Novel Asheva: A Summoner's Tale - [Book-1 Complete]

Spoiler: Chapter-78 Sindra

Chapter-78 Sindra

About a week later, in an abandoned villa on the outskirts of the forest.

“Nana.” Ewan shook her. “Wake up,” he said.

She groaned and rolled to the other side, wrapping the blanket around.

“Nana, its morning.” He shook her again.

“Five more….,” she mumbled.

“We have things to do, wake up already,” he said and rattled her. Her groans and moans oscillated with her, and she growled. “Nana!”

She turned towards him, her eyes still closed, and chomped his hand.

“It’s bleeding! Let go! Let go!!” Ewan yelled and slapped her forehead, pushing her away. Her bite left a deep teeth mark on his hand, and it stung.

The escalated outburst that night loosened her shackles, and the revenge freed her of her chains, it must’ve taken a huge burden off her shoulders. Her steps were now lighter, and she smiled more with occasional giggles. His childhood Nana, her past self, trickled back in. But with it came all the habits she had back then. She still bit like a dog…

Ewan blew on the marks, easing the burning sensation. The pain triggered nostalgia. But he couldn’t indulge and waste time, he’d planned his breakthrough this morning. His spirit brimmed and peaked and it was time for the fifth awakening, time for ‘Sindra’.

He sat on the porch gulping lungfuls of petrichor, the rained earth’s breath. The untimely rain hurried the arrival of Greenbirth, the forest woke up overnight. The leaves were ever so vibrant, the air glided with fresh breeze, and the birds cheered the dawn. The insects sang in harmony, the animals roared their calls. Yet they all dimmed and hushed when Ewan cut himself off from his surroundings and started his attempt, leaving his and Nana’s safety in his Astylinds’ hands.

…

…

…

Sindra—Ice Favored.

Ice-Anima danced around him, swirling into a torrent, exciting his ice rune. Ewan reined them in and they moved like his fingers. They saturated his body and soul, comforting him with an icy hug filled with warmth. He was the child of ice and snow right now, and they heeded all his commands. This was the level of affinity Frost enjoyed each day, a common occurrence for him yet an envious prospect for Ewan.

Soon the burden wore out his soul, and he had to stop. The receding Ice-Anima left him and his ice rune hungered for more. He craved that level of control again, but he was a Human, his forte lay somewhere else. ‘Wisdom rules all’—he couldn’t revel, and let his own skill dictate him.

Rested and a calming walk in the serene woods later, Ewan tried again. As a spellcaster, ‘Grein’ suited him more, permanently engraved spell circuits were a better fit for him. It could remove his dependence on the Spellbook and increase his efficiency in battles. But he was a Severynth, not a Cerade. This was the bed he made, he had to lie in it.

Sindra—Heal.

The skill sucked his Blood-Anima and healed the bleeding wound he created with a sharp stick. It took longer to heal than Iris, but the result satisfied him. Once he was proficient enough, he could use it mid-battle, Iris wouldn’t need to come out in dangerous situations anymore.

“Food’s ready,” Nana hollered from inside the villa as Ewan finished his tests. So, he grabbed all his Astylinds and went in. After breakfast, he had to visit the hub once. If his refreshed balance after selling the cores allowed him, Orange would be the next to grade up.

…..

Ewan succeeded in eight tries and Orange did in one, saving him some Novas. The process went the same as Frost. Orange also suffered through the upgrade, worrying Ewan, but came out the victor in the end, gaining a dormant skill and meeting his rival’s strides. The flickering fire on his forehead burned brighter, and his fur adopted a glossy glaze as the Fire-Anima calmed down around him.

Identify.

[Astylind Name: Fire Monkey (Mutant)]

[Astylind Level: Level-5]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-B]

[Anima Affinity: Fire]

[Skills: Fire-Recipient | Wrath-Inferno (Dormant)]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Airadia. They are blessed with decent fire-element affinity (Recipient) but lack the skill to make use of it.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Noble Rite (Zik Aroig)—A toast to fire, feast on slumbering lava for one month.]

[Remark 1: Can be trained as a vanguard but require more attention with the elemental skills.]

[Remark 2: They look cool, so can make them your mascot.]

[Remark 3: I agree with the second remark, lol.]

Unless he ventured out of the colony and expanded his reach, Grade-B looked to be the limit for his Astylinds. He couldn’t perform either of the Noble Rites here. And the successive pattern dictated that Iris’s rite would also follow the same concept. Getting out was already on top of his priority list, this only added to the motivations behind it.

“How’s your progress? When can you break through?” Ewan asked, lounging on the sofa after bringing a drained Orange inside the rune.

“Another week maybe,” Nana said, playing with Lime, the Wood Squirrel, on another sofa.

“Do you want to try for Grade-B?”

“Should I?” She looked at Ewan.

“It’ll be helpful.” Ewan nodded. “Your ‘Spirit’ will increase faster.”

“When can you make the potion then?”

“Gather the ingredients, I’ll try tonight before we leave,” he said. “I’ll take my service charge.”

Nana pouted. “Discount,” she said.

Ewan sunk in the sofa deeper. “Twenty percent, family discount,” he said.

Nana put Lime on her lap and showed him nine fingers, barely keeping the tenth down halfway. “Ninety-five,” she said.

“Just rob me!” Ewan barked.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [5th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.6

Spirit: 9.2

Anima: [Fire – 9.2 | Ice – 9.2 | Blood – 9.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [5th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-5] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-5] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-5] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 43
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-79 Bridge

Chapter-79 Bridge

The rubble, the debris, and the moribund buildings narrowed the streets, their shades deepening the gloom of the night. Haunting silence reigned supreme, but the occasional howls disrupted its continuance.

They walked, their boots crunching the pebbles and the pieces of shattered concrete underfoot, and reached the end of the street. Up ahead it opened to a semi-clean plaza, showering in the violet-silver moonlight. Broken fountain sprayed water beyond its initial limits, its allure long lost. Three baby-Astylinds splashed the ankle-deep puddle, rolling and tossing, while an adult wheezed by the side, its snores rippling the pool. Craggy and cracked skin, four stumpy legs, and a pointy horn on the nose reaching for the sky—"Earth Rhino,” Ewan whispered and pushed Nana back, hiding by the wall.

“Are we fighting?” Nana asked, Xylla nestled in her arms.

Ewan glanced at the three newborn Astylinds, they were a good number of Novas, and he needed some balance. Frost and Orange were already at Grade-B, but Iris remained at ‘C’. Her weak consciousness might prove to be detrimental to her success, so he needed to prepare for her failure. But the fight could attract unwanted audience and delay them, they were so close to their destination now….

Level-6, D, male….

“Let’s fight, we both can use some Novas. You should stop selling uncle’s materials too,” Ewan said.

Nana peeked out. “There’s three, winner gets two, loser one,” she said. “Rock paper scissors.”

Ewan smirked. “You never win, why don’t you just give up.”

“I’ll win this time,” she said and took a deep breath, putting Xylla on the ground before rotating her shoulders and stretching her neck.

“I already know what you’ll throw before you throw it,” he said with a smug smile. Whenever he roused her up, she always played rock. It was either her defense mechanism or she was trying to fight back.

“Shuddup,” she said, getting ready. “Rock paper scissors!”

She threw rock, Ewan threw paper.

“See.” He laughed.

“Again,” she said, fuming.

Ewan shrugged and indulged her. She lost with rock, so she would move down the sequence, a forced submissive attack.

And she threw paper, he threw scissors.

He laughed and flicked her forehead. “I can read you like an open book,” he said, while she stared at her palm.

“Didn’t you say you can't read my mind…,” she said under her breath.

Ewan coughed and cleared his throat. “Don’t mind that, cast <Drizzle> and send Luna to scout. Toast will back her up.”

Earth Rhinos lived in pairs after they mated—the male was here; the female should be nearby. Getting flanked was the last thing he wished for.

Frost, Orange, go!

……

Hunts, fights, and reroutes delayed them. Days of distance stretched into weeks while Obria slipped away from under Human’s control. Kyrons didn’t belong here, they were powerless, so they lost the fight without even fighting it. Their numbers dwindled each day, they didn’t need the ‘cruel’ Severynths to butcher them like cattle anymore.

The law of nature that had creeped in from the crumbled walls also didn’t spare the Ashevas, they died a dime a dozen. The weak lost their lives, the strong became stronger. And so, days went by without their path crossing anyone else’s. No screams, no cries for help. Now, if only Nana kept her mouth shut, his world would become serene and peaceful again…but alas, he could only wish.

“We’re here,” Ewan said, watching the dropping arc of the saffron barrier from atop a concrete slab, minding the torn rebars.

Rampaging Astylinds had long flattened the outskirts. Not even a hint of its past showed in its ravaged present. The proud wall, the bustling taverns, the nose-burning stench, nothing survived. When the fences came down, civilization lost in front of sheer carnage that barged in.

“How do we contact him now?” Nana asked, gaping at the ‘flatlands’ in front.

The greenery outside the barrier contrasted the grays inside too much, even with the sepia tint that the saffron of the barrier added. “Let’s rest here for now, we’ll think about that later,” he said. Since the moment he stepped foot in this area, his instincts went haywire. Someone peeked at him, someone whose reach he couldn’t imagine, someone he could never contest. His instincts warned him, again and again, he had to struggle against it to stay here.

It was the new Crown declaring his presence, he was sure. Though he didn’t expect this, it did solve the problem of contacting him for the trade. But it wasn’t time yet. Ewan had already concluded his research on the saffron shield but had one last thing to do before meeting him.

“Get some sleep, I’ll keep watch,” Ewan said, brushing the dust and dirt away from under the giant concrete boulder. The shade it provided was good enough for a makeshift camp.

“I’m not sleepy though,” Nana said, helping him clean, hacking when the cloud of white dust assaulted her.

“Lie down anyway, we need to be at our best for this,” he said. “Give Xylla to me, you just get some shut eye.”

The fox screeched at Ewan and grabbed onto Nana’s sleeves.

Quite perceptive, aren’t you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe,” he said.

“She doesn’t like you,” Nana said, trying to free her top from the fox’s sharp claws.

“It’s fine, she’ll come to like me soon.” Ewan scruffed the fox and shooed Nana away after brushing the powdered dust off her hair.

Bridge, extract, condense, cleanse, and merge—they were the five parts of the spell for Bralek, the fourth innate skill.

Bridge!

He aimed at the raging fox and cast the spell. His soul sent out a thread to her soul, it connected while Ewan suppressed her with Ryvia. She struggled and snarled, but he held her down and jammed the thread in.

….

….

“We’re on the same boat now, I die you die. So, stop fighting,” he snickered when the spell succeeded.

The fox settled down and glared at him, hanging by her scruff. If only her stare could kill….

“Nana, forget about sleeping, its time.”

Let’s end this.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.8

Anima: [Fire – 12.8 | Ice – 12.8 | Blood – 12.8]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-80 Trade [Part-I]

Chapter-80 Trade [Part-I]

“Sir,” Ewan yelled towards the sky. “My name is Ewan Ayres and she’s Havanna Elsworth. We would like to trouble you for a trade, may we?”

“Can he hear us?” Nana whispered, inching closer to Ewan, panning her eyes around.

“Nana,” he said. “Don’t say anything, let me speak to him. No matter what I do from now on, be patient. And don’t mention the contract.”

She nodded.

“Two brave little Ashevas, what a sight.” It was a gruff voice and a mellow accent, and it came from behind.

Ewan turned and hid Nana behind him, stepping back.

Scars raced on his ocean-blue skin, pearly teeth that might as well be fangs, long jet hair tied in a low ponytail, flaming mauve tattoos covering half his face and his neck. He squatted on the concrete block that Ewan stood on before, wearing an alabaster overcoat with taut collars and a pair of charcoal-black baggy pants.

Branded…

Those tattoos, they were too obvious, no one could misread them, especially someone in the know. The Crown was a ‘Branded’, the exiled lineage, he could use this…

“Hello, Sir Valenza. We would like to trade with you.” Ewan put one hand on his chest—at his heart—and bowed, gulping, his forehead chilled with sweat.

“Let me guess, you want to get out.” He grinned, revealing his pearly ‘fangs’. “So? What will you trade for it?” he asked.

“This, sir.” Ewan took out the diary that he wrote all his theories and conclusions in and presented it to the Crown. It floated on its own as he let go and fell into the Valenza’s hand. He’d rolled the die, the only thing to do now was to believe in his own ability, that his research was good enough to buy their freedom.

It took the Crown minutes as he flipped the pages, his smile long gone.

“Not bad,” he finally commented, closing the diary with a dull thump. “Color me impressed, not many care to theorize with such depth and details.” And he grinned again. “But you already gave it to me, do you think I’ll honor the deal?”

“You may not, sir, but I hope you do,” Ewan said and glimpsed his neck, a furtive yet noticeable glance at the area where the Valenza’s ‘Branded’ tattoo was.

The Crown squinted at Ewan, and he choked. His chest didn’t budge for his breath, his body didn’t respond for even a twitch. His vision darkened, he suffocated, and his gasps hitched.

Before he went blue though, the pressure receded, clarity washed over him, and the Crown smiled again. “Do tell me, why did you risk coming here? You might’ve survived inside the colony, I would’ve let you go then,” he said.

“I-I d-didn’t want to wait around and hope for the best,” Ewan said, hyperventilating. Nana heaved behind him too, clutching the back of his t-shirt. “A-And who knows if we can really stay alive till the end.”

“Yes, who knows….” A smile tugged at his lips.

“S-So?” Ewan asked. “Are we free to go, sir?”

“You are, but not her,” Valenza said, grinning with malice, looking at Nana cowering behind Ewan.

“No deal then, sir, I apologize,” Ewan said. “If you would allow us again, we’ll take our chances inside the colony.”

“What, you’ll risk your life for her?”

“I’ll stay!” Nana yelled, stepping away from Ewan, her fists clenched hard. Her knuckles paled and her shoulders trembled; she stared at Valenza.

Ewan grabbed her arm and pulled her back in, glowering at her. “I’m not risking anything,” he said, turning to the Crown again. “I intend to live, and I intend to keep her alive.”

“Please,” she whispered, tugging on Ewan’s t-shirt, her eyes getting misty.

“Can you tell me why?” Valenza asked.

“No reason really, sir,” Ewan said. “It’ll just be a boring life without her.”

The Crown lifted his brows then guffawed, the pebbles quaking with his outburst. “Right, right, a little bit of burden is necessary to spice things up. It’ll be too boring otherwise,” he said. “But…”

He floated down from the concrete block, his overcoat melted the rebar when they touched, and he stepped forward once his pointy boots met the ground. His locked hands held the diary behind his back; he stood a head taller than Ewan.

“Only you can go, she stays.”

Ewan took a deep breath. “Then I must apologize again in advance,” he said.

Valenza chuckled. “What?”

“If I may, sir, I would like to introduce you to this little headache,” he said, scruffing Xylla away from Nana and bringing the flailing fox forward.

Soon the Crown frowned and backed off, his nostrils flaring—he scowled at Ewan.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.8

Anima: [Fire – 12.8 | Ice – 12.8 | Blood – 12.8]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-81 Trade [Part-II]

Chapter-81 Trade [Part-II]

“How did you manage to get your hands on that?” His scowl turned into a smirk, but his lips shook, and the Crown glanced at the sky.

“Bad luck, sir,” Ewan said. He held his palm below the ‘thread’ connecting his soul to the fox and roused up some Ice-Anima. The white particles swirled around the thread and glued to it, making it glimmer. The fox shivered; her breath misted as she panted with her tongue out.

“Ewan, she’s hurting,” Nana said and pleaded. But he held her back.

“Bridge…,” Valenza said under his breath, his smirk fading. “Are you touched in the head?”

“Sir, I’m also helpless,” Ewan said. “I just want us to live, no matter the cost.”

The Crown laughed. “Love really blinds people,” he said.

“I can't go out without her, sir,” Ewan said.

After a moment of silence and a stare match, the Crown heaved a sigh. “Fine,” he said. “You both can leave.” He shooed them away.

“Thank you.” Ewan smiled and bowed with his hand at his heart again, his shoulders loosening. Freedom was now at his arm’s length, and a bout of dizziness assaulted him as his rigid nerves eased.

“Ewan.” Nana supported him.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “I’ll be fine.” The back and forth with the Crown sapped him dry.

“Teal,” Valenza said, watching Ewan and Nana.

A young girl, about the same age as Ewan, came out from behind the concrete block upon his call. She was shuddering as she glared at Ewan, grinding her teeth, tears rolling down her bloodshot eyes—it had already soaked her orange v-collar.

“Take this,” he said, handing her the diary. “Study it. I want it organized by the next morning.”

“Master, please kill him.” She begged and looked towards Ewan.

“What?” Ewan furrowed his brows and said in alarm. Was his luck this bad? The trade was a success, he was free, Nana was free. They were about to get out of this mess, and now this happened. Where did this miss calamity come from? What did he ever do to her?

“There must be some misunderstanding,” Ewan said. “I don’t even know you, Miss.”

Was it because of the blood festival again? Did she suffer some tragedy because of it too? He cursed that woman who spread his information. It was trivial at first but was chomping his ass right now. Till when would this haunt him? None of the contingencies he made could deal with this situation, he never saw this coming. The threat of the fox was still there though. Was she important enough to ignore that risk? He looked at the Crown.

“Girl,” Valenza said. “Do not speak unless you’re spoken to.” He smiled at her, but there was no warmth in his ravening eyes.

“But Master…”

“I am not your master.” He interrupted her. “And defy me again and I’ll forget your mother’s favor.”

She lowered her head, her trembles worsening. “Y-Yes sir,” she said and took the diary.

Ewan breathed a sigh of relief—luckily, she wasn’t. No matter her grudge, the ending was in his favor. But still, he burned her figure in his mind. She hated him enough to kill him, she was a threat—he needed to end her if a chance ever came.

“We’ll take our leave, sir. I apologize again for my insolence, thank you for your mercy, and may your rite be a success,” Ewan said and bowed out, bringing Nana towards the saffron barrier. As they moved closer, a large gap rolled in the shield, bringing in breaths of fresh grass. Ewan sped up and dashed out, dragging Nana by hand.

Cool and calming breeze brushed his face and neck, and his raven hair danced. The smell of wood, lush green, and raw earth replaced the dirt and the powdered dust. Old-growth trees instead of the concrete jungle, sky-reaching crowns instead of the chopped stumps, dense ancient forest instead of the sparse young saplings—this was the world beyond the walls, where nature ruled. The survival of the fittest superseded any laws of the Starons here. The weak were cast away, and only the apt survived.

Ewan breathed in a lungful of crisp air. Though his exit wasn’t what he envisioned when he dreamt of this, he was at least free. He finally set foot in the open world. Nana too took a deep breath, beaming, and combed her rumpled chestnut hair back with her fingers.

An endless horizon was within Ewan’s reach, his adventure would now begin; exhilaration clutched his mind and body. His imagination went wild. He could go anywhere; he could do anything. They would travel to places together and rise above all.

Yet, it all shattered when a voice reached his ears.

“Ewan, you came out?”

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.8

Anima: [Fire – 12.8 | Ice – 12.8 | Blood – 12.8]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-82 Luck Roulette

Chapter-82 Luck Roulette

“Slate?” Ewan halted his steps and hid Nana behind him again. This was yet another menace, something he could do without for one day, it was tiring. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. Since the day she picked him up, he’d been his mother’s shadow, so she must’ve sent him here, though the purpose eluded him.

“You still remember me,” Slate said, smiling, as he ambled towards Ewan and Nana. “Your mother sent me to check up on you.”

“I’m fine,” Ewan said, pushing Nana back and stepping away from Slate. He just dealt with the terrifying Crown and now had to deal with him. He was a threat, more so than his ‘relatives’. Even his Pa warned him about this man.

‘His overreaching ambitions and his yearning to be Thea’s son will one day extend their claws at you’, his Pa said. ‘Your mother can't control him; she only brews the illusion that she can. He can do anything for her sake, even if it garnered her hatred.’

“Your mother was worried about you,” Slate said, stopping at a distance.

“I’m fine, you can give her the good news,” Ewan said. This man was at Step-1, he was an Asheva at the Spirit-Nebula stage. His aura couldn’t compare to the Crown, nowhere near actually, but it didn’t matter—either could crush him like a mosquito. So, the further he stayed from him, the better.

“You stress her out too much, Ewan, her health has worsened because of you. She keeps thinking about you, it makes her…mercurial.” He strained the word.

“What, you want to kill me to put her mind at ease then?” Ewan asked.

“That is a nice suggestion,” Slate said with a smile. “May I?”

Ewan narrowed his eyes. “Or you can simply tell her that I died. I don’t intend to meet her ever; she won't find out.”

“That won't do.” Slate pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up. “It’s better to kill you and rest her anxiety for good.”

“Won't she be sad though? That her son died,” Ewan said. “And that too at the hands of her another son.”

“She will be, but it’ll be for her benefit. And she won't find out it was me.”

Ewan took a deep breath. “I’m at my wits end then,” he said. Dealing with the Crown was far easier, it was pure business—he offered a good deal and the trade ended in success. But this was personal, this man wanted to kill him—there was no trade to be had here, only threats would work.

Ewan scruffed the fox again. “Can you check her details?”

Slate tilted his head. “What am I supposed to see?”

“It’s a Nine-Tailed Fox, the World Eater, can't you see her?” Ewan grimaced.

Slate chuckled. “It’s a Fire Wolf, Ewan, not a mythical fox. Are you suggesting I let you go in exchange for her?”

Ewan clenched his jaws with a deep frown.

Bitch, undo your spell or we’ll both die here. Nana will die too; you want her to live right?

The active thought passed to her through the ‘Bridge’, and the baby fox glared at Ewan. Her counterattack came at the worst possible time. If Slate was stronger, this would’ve ended here. But he wasn’t, and her illusion worked on him…

“Do you want to die here!” Ewan roared at her, and she snarled at him.

“Give it a rest, this is beneath your intellect.” Slate said. “Don’t disappoint me so.”

“She really is a Nine-Tailed Fox, you’re under her suggestion. I’m connected to her with ‘Bridge’, if you kill me, she dies too. And her kin sitting outside Airadia will mince you,” Ewan said it all in one breath.

Slate laughed. “You really expect me to believe that, don’t you?” he said. “Are you that desperate? I always thought you didn’t care much about whether you lived or died, I even respected your nonchalance towards life.”

Ewan rubbed his forehead, his hands trembling—this would not work.

“But I understand,” Slate said. “Anyone would be, once faced with the reality of death. I just thought you were stronger than this, than me, but I guess we’re the same.”

The only viable way to disturb her spell in the current situation was pain, but there was no way Slate would hurt himself just because Ewan said so. He was truly at his wits end now….

“We’re not the same,” Ewan murmured then sighed. “I really didn’t want to use it.” And he initiated the final trump card he kept for the Crown. If the fox hadn't worked, he would’ve spun the Luck Roulette, it was his final option which he didn’t want to choose. It could save him today, but the backlash might kill him tomorrow, it was a deal with the devil.

The wheel tattoo on his hand throbbed and awakened, it roused his soul, and reeled. Everything depended on ‘luck’ now.

“Nana.” He turned around. The roulette needed time; he could pit Slate during that. And if ‘luck’ didn’t work, he would drag the man down with him. “Do you still believe Xylla’s been with you the longest, and not me?” he asked.

“W-What? Why would you ask that?” Nana asked.

The fog was thick, he needed more to break through.

“Why weren’t you home when Aunt Ella and Uncle Keith died, Nana? You could’ve saved them,” Ewan said. It harrowed him to claw open her scabbed wound like this, but this was the only option now.

Nana blanked, her pupils dilated, she stared at Ewan with a hollow gaze.

“Have you finally lost it, Ewan?” Slate frowned. “Even I wouldn’t say that to someone I loved; you’ve become quite pathetic since the last time I saw you.”

Not enough?

“You were always a burden on Aunt Ella and Uncle Keith, and now you’re a burden on me,” Ewan said. “How can you still smile with that guilt? Did you forget everything? Will you also get me killed like them?”

Each word he said stabbed him deep, he loathed himself for it. She might not remember any of this, the fog might wash it all out, but he would, and he would relive every second of it his whole life…

She still stared at him, dazed, but her eyes wavered, and she shook.

The blow on her would weaken the fox, he wanted her fragile for the next part. He also needed her help in suppressing the fox—using his Ryvia would distract him while he extracted her soul, so he had to break the fog this way. If it didn’t work though, he could only give up on this plan and kill the fox.

Last try….

And he pulled her in with her collar and slapped her.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.8

Anima: [Fire – 12.8 | Ice – 12.8 | Blood – 12.8]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-83 Luck

Chapter-83 Luck

Nana stumbled back, her neck strained to her right; her eyes widened, and her lips bled. Her cheek soon reddened with a palm print, and she teared up.

“Do you still remember Xylla?” Ewan asked, still feeling the stinging burn in his palm, and the hurtful twinge in his heart.

“W-What happened?” She looked at him, a teardrop caressing down the slap, and asked as her pupils contracted.

Ewan gently wiped the blood off her lips with a sigh and licked it on instinct—it had lost the bitterness. His method worked, the fog shattered, or at least thinned enough for her to regain herself. “Hold her down, don’t let her move,” he said, handing her the thrashing but weakened fox. “Hold her down tight.”

Nana obeyed, her eyes still a bit blank and wet, and restrained the fox in the air with her Ryvia.

“The absolute gap in power can't diminish with tricks.” Slate squinted at them from a distance.

Give me more time…

“So, let’s end this farce now. Be on your way, I have things to do,” he said and aimed at Ewan. “Apologize to her for the slap and your hurtful words if you find her in afterlife, be a decent man there at least.”

Fuck!!

Extract!

Ewan clawed the fox’s head and cast the spell. The ‘thread’ stretched taut as he pulled on her soul with the spell. The baby fox howled, it struggled and tussled, but Nana’s Ryvia held her down.

“Almost there!!” Ewan grinded his teeth as a deathly pressure crushed him down. His chest constricted, and he suffocated again.

“Goodbye, Ewan,” Slate said and moved his hand down. “And you too, Ms. Elsworth. I wish you meet your parents again.”

“E-Ewan, I-I ca-can’t brea…..” Nana almost crumbled under the pressure but still held the fox in place.

And with a roar that took all his breath away, Ewan yanked the soul out.

“H-Have fun with it,” he said in a coarse voice, sweat burning his eyes, and flung the soulless body of the fox towards Slate.

The wheel of the Luck Roulette dinged in his mind—the seeker kissed the number two, the highest his soul could sustain currently.

Slate minced the corpse midair and aimed for Ewan again. But before the blood splattered the grass, before her mushed body plopped to the ground, before her argent core glimmered, the sky had seethed.
An enormous claw ripped open the fabrics of the sky and let in a raging howl. It shook the ground, tore the clouds apart, and the space cracked around the area. The birds stayed put, the Astylinds shushed. No one moved, not even a twitch—no one made any sounds, not even a gulp. The Nine-Tailed Fox slammed its head onto the unfitting crack, its narrowed amber iris staring at Slate from the other side.

The wind halted again, the sunlight faded, and the world muted. The pressure from the fox drowned everyone, but most of it was on Slate. His knees buckled and he gasped for air, gaping at the gigantic eye in the sky, the horror draining the blood away from his face.

Condense!

Before the fox could find anything out, Ewan traced the circuit. The spell compressed the misty soul threads he’d pulled out and dragged them towards a central point. Soon it formed a glossy inky pearl with silver specks. Ewan kept it in his claw-ring and prepared for the roulette’s effect. He’d already dealt the cards; the situation was now out of his hands.

“You were warned, now pay the price.” The Guardian’s husky voice resonated in the sky, breaking the silent state. The world resumed its life as Slate fell on all his fours, panting, streams of sweat trickling down his nose.

“Stay close,” Ewan whispered and grabbed Nana’s hand. She stood behind him, grabbing his t-shirt, shivering as she stared at the menace in the sky.

“W-Will we die?” she asked, her warm breath tickling his neck.

The fox roared, the crack gaped, and it barged in.

“We won't,” he said.

We won't…. He hoped.

An orange streak bombarded the fox, and it fought back, its seven alabaster-furred tails swaying about.

“I’m sorry,” Nana said, looking down, her eyes watering up again.

The fox and the orange streak crashed in the air, their booms echoed, and the earth trembled under their barrage. The vibrations rolled the fox’s core over to Ewan’s feet.

“It’s not your fault.” Ewan tightened his grip on her hand and ignored the core, it was a hot potato right now. “The fox wasn’t your fault, and neither is this,” he said.

It’s my mess….

The fox aimed at Slate, over and over, but the Guardian pushed it back. Its wounds increased, and warm blood brimming with Mystic-Anima showered on the earth.

“I just wanted to live with you.” She rested her head on his back and sobbed, biting the scabbed wound on her lip.

Ewan chuckled. “We’ll live together,” he said. “We’ll live, no matter what.” He looked up and squinted.

The fox only aimed at Slate; it mustn’t have recognized Ewan as the killer. Extracting her soul didn’t kill the little fox, she died when Slate crushed her to pulp… Or was this the effect of the ‘Luck Roulette’? If so, if the ‘number two’ could affect an entity such as the World Eater, he couldn’t imagine its backlash… Ewan broke out in cold sweat, he’d dug his own grave, out of the frying pan and into the fire…

But worrying over it was pointless. What was to come would come, he couldn’t control it anymore.

“Son of Ulrath!!” The man’s husky voice resounded in the sky again. And the ground beneath Ewan rent apart.

Shit!

Both him and Nana plunged into the unending abyss with flashing lights of the torn sky zooming away from them, the lingering howls fading out.

“You’ll pay me for this!!!” the Guardian roared.

“Ewan!!” Nana yelled; her hand slipped away from his. It was the last thing Ewan heard before the darkness engulfed all his senses.

It wasn’t the fox; it was the space cracks….

And he blacked out.

-------------------------------------------------------Vol-1 END-------------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.8

Anima: [Fire – 12.8 | Ice – 12.8 | Blood – 12.8]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-84 Ocean

Chapter-84 Ocean

Cold and suffocating—the darkness smothered him when Ewan came to, a bit dazed. The crushing pressure and the roaring silence jolted him awake. Water gushed into him, bloating his stomach. His ribs creaked, his eyes burned, and his throat ached as he flailed his limbs to no avail. This wasn’t the space crack anymore, he was drowning. His Pa taught him many things, he learned a lot from his teachers, but swimming wasn’t one of them.

Ewan clenched his fists and stopped moving, drifting down, the pressure crushing him with each inch. He wasn’t a Kyron, he didn’t need the Kyron’s way of survival—he pushed down with Ryvia and propelled up, the stress alleviating as he rose up.

Faster.

He thrusted hard and rocketed towards the surface, leaving a trail of stream behind. There was no light at the end, it was all murky with the water turbulent up ahead. Ewan broke out from the top and emerged into a raging storm, the deluge of rain and squall slapping him. He gasped, lungfuls of air stuffing his chest, and choked. The towering waves thrashed him, shoving him back in. He pushed back and came out again, panting.

He looked around, rocking with the waves. Beyond the darkness, there was no end. Water was everywhere, it met the interminable horizon with no land in sight.

Where was he? Ewan gaped; his heaves hitched. This river had no banks, how wide was it? Its depth almost crushed him; this wasn’t what he read. Rivers weren’t like this. Was it…an ocean? He licked his lips and tasted the water, it was salty—too salty—and left a fishy taste at the back of his throat. Ewan retched and vomited the water he’d ingested. After emptying his stomach contents and gaining his breath back, the realization hammered him.

Nana!

They’d separated the moment they fell into the space crack. Did she come here too? Did she drown? His heart thumped. No, no, she was strong, he made her strong, she wouldn’t die like that. He lunged back into the water and propelled down with Ryvia, faster than he came up. His emotions howled that she was alive, his logic disputed she wasn’t, she couldn’t be. Even he barely survived.

The pressure squashed him again, and the weight spiked as he shot down. He enveloped himself in Ryvia, pushed away, and countered the pressure before moving down again.

He searched and searched but couldn’t find any trace. She wasn’t here, she was never here, the signs said, or a lack thereof. His search pattern was random, but he didn’t miss anything, not even a tremble in the water. If she was alive, he would save her; if she was dead... No, she wasn’t dead, she wasn’t... His determination eventually took him to the sandy bottom, the depths of the unending ocean. The absolute lack of light here troubled even his evolved eyes; it glowed an emerald shade as Ewan strained them.

If she came out here with him, she couldn’t have drifted that far. The currents crawled down here; they couldn’t have taken her away. He looked for her inside a reasonable radius, then extended to an unreasonable range when he couldn’t find her. Bit by bit, his logic adjusted. The lack of any trace was obvious, she never came out with him. She should’ve arrived somewhere else. He must contact her in the hub, else his restless heart would never settle down.

He propelled back up again but stopped when his Ryvia shifted the sand at the bottom. It exposed a circle of rocks surrounding an egg. Ewan checked the wheel of his ‘Luck Roulette’, the skill was still in effect. So, this was a forced lucky encounter. He had no time for this though, and he couldn’t carry it away either—it would become a burden during the backlash. At most, he would come back to it after confirming Nana’s status and finding solid ground again.

The skill dinged in his mind, and a sense of dread enveloped him. The first part of the ‘Luck Roulette’—the good part—was over, and now he had to survive the backlash. He stabilized where he was and pushed his Ryvia out. Luck was random, he couldn’t read it. The threat it would bring could come from anywhere.

The favorable part had only affected the position of the space cracks and presented him with this egg. The backlash from that shouldn’t be too bad, he hoped.

Come, I’m ready.

A school of fish rushed out from under the loose sand and assaulted him, barging inside his Ryvia sphere. Their teeth, or bladed fangs rather, shredded his skin on the first round.

Fuck!

It was only skin wounds, but he bled all over and his ripped clothes hung loose.

Blood Rein!

He cast and used the blood he shed. The school of fanged fishes u-turned at a distance and came at him again, his blood and flesh dangling from their mouths. He aimed at them, and the blob of blood extended out into needled branches, and soon a barbed shrub stood in front of him. The fishes didn’t stop and barreled into the thorny branches. The blood needles stood firm and tore apart the incoming school, turning the area wine-red. The taste of iron overtook the saltiness of the ocean for a moment but soon reverted to the fishy taste again.

That can't be all…

When he finished the thought, a tentacle reached from a distance smacked Ewan down into the sand.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.9

Anima: [Fire – 12.9 | Ice – 12.9 | Blood – 0.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 491
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-85 Backlash

Chapter-85 Backlash

He hacked up blood with all the air inside him and took a second before finding his bearings. The tentacle with suction cups came at him again. He rolled over and clawed away, but the shockwave of the attack rammed him and hurled him back. Two attacks were enough to know, he wasn’t this Astylind’s opponent. If not at the limits of Step-0, it was at least close to it.

So, he pushed his spirit to its limits and soared up. But the tentacle reached for him and whacked him down into the sand once more. Ewan jerked from the shock and vomited everything he had in him; a sharp rock below punctured his waist. His neck hurt, he suffered from whiplash, and something cracked in his body. Yet, all this could wait, his injuries weren’t a priority, his life was. He thrusted and charged up. The tentacle came at him as the water quivered from its roar. Ewan braked and halted where he was, and the tentacle missed, ripping the water apart in front of him.

He took the moment of respite and shot up, hauling his weight as hard as he could. The Astylind howled and stretched out its tentacles, but Ewan was already out of its reach.

Is it done?

His mind churned as he raced for the surface, his vigilance at its peak. It was dark all around, and even with his eyes and Ryvia, it confined his sight. Anything could come at him from anywhere, the dread seeped into him. Alone, injured, and against the infinite and the mighty ocean. The realization of his powerlessness shook his resolve, his confidence.

Can't give up, can't give up…

He repeated to himself and marched on. This wasn’t the end of his path, he still breathed, his heart still beat. He was still alive, so he would crawl if he had to, but he wouldn’t give up.

Ice Daggers!

The cast of the spell supported his crumbling morale, his collapsing spirit. The ice daggers plunged the temperature around him, frigid water blanketed him, comforted him, it also became another form of defense. The increased density from lower temperature burdened the thrust of his Ryvia, but he could sustain this much.

As his head broke out the water surface, and as he heaved, lungfuls and lungfuls, a pair of talons dug into both his shoulders and flapped him away towards the stormy clouds with a sharp peal.

Fuck!!

Before the man-sized bird could fly him high enough though, he attacked it with his daggers. The bird screeched and struggled, swatting the daggers away, its altitude dipping. Ewan attacked again and again, forgetting the stinging pain in his shoulders and his whole body. A few attacks later, the bird dropped him and flew away with another peal.

He crashed into the water with a splashing thud, groaning and gasping—something broke again.

….

….

Nimbus clouds parted for the moons, their familiar moonlight gleaming over the ocean reminding Ewan of home. He sprawled on the water; the tides rocked him up and down. His vision faded in and out as he struggled to hold on, bleeding away into the salty ocean.

Frost…

He opened the Dekoth and let Frost out, holding him above the water. His unstable situation could cause complications if he brought his Astylinds out, but he had no other choice now.

Frost cried when he saw Ewan, then howled, looking around for the enemy. The temperature plummeted and bits of ice crystals appeared around Ewan.

There’s no enemy…freeze a block….

Frost cried at Ewan again, staring at him with watery eyes.

I’ll be fine.

Frost aimed at the side—the white Anima soared—and froze a part of the ocean water into an ice block while glimpsing Ewan’s wounds, worried. Ewan let go and Frost dropped onto the floating ice block, dragging Ewan onboard. The glacial block chilled his skin, cramped his muscles, numbed his nerves, but it was better than rotting in the water.

Ewan glanced at his wheel tattoo and frowned; the skill continued. What would come next? He wondered.

The pain started with an itch and developed into a gut-wrenching ache. His joints twinged, his ears rang, his head throbbed, and he wanted to retch. The symptoms came out of nowhere; they matched the textbooks word by word. The backlash didn’t only mean external enemies.

Decompression….

And the roulette dinged in his mind, the backlash left him sick and died out.

…..

A frantic Iris healed him for the next few hours before his pain eased, his condition improved, and he connected to the hub. He couldn’t delay the matter, he needed to know Nana’s status, he needed to contact her.

In the hub.

The sight of his all too familiar shop gave him some mental respite, he was still on Airadia, the space crack didn’t throw him to some unknown world. But nostalgia and relief could come later, first he checked his transaction records. His automated worker couldn’t take messages, so Nana could’ve left some kind of obvious trace if she wanted to contact him. And indeed, someone had bought a Level-1 Astylind Core at nineteen times the market price.

It was her. Ewan laughed; all his tension and anxiety deflated in a moment. Her contemplation over the price was obvious from the transaction record. Nineteen times, she must’ve wanted to leave no doubt behind.

“Every day at sunrise.” He navigated to her shop and left the message with her automated worker. The Novas she spent on it could only allow this many words, anymore and it would overwrite. The fragility of the current situation prompted him to think about upgrading them, both his and Nana’s. Once his situation improved and stabilized, he would discuss it with her.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured

Step-0 [6th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.7

Spirit: 12.9

Anima: [Fire – 12.9 | Ice – 12.9 | Blood – 12.9]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [6th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 523
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-86 Bralek

Chapter-86 Bralek

Time was a Severynth’s friend, its path made it so. The longer he lived, the stronger he would be, the constant feedback would keep nudging him ahead. But it required certain conditions—keeping his Astylinds strong was one and breaking through the barriers was another. Negative of the first would cease the feedback, and the same of the second would render it useless, which was Ewan’s current problem.

His first try ended in failure, his second too followed the same pattern. The frigid ice block, the relentless threats of the ocean, unknown destination, fear of surviving the tomorrow—all these distractions kept him away from success.

Nana was good at managing them, she could even break through when the wolves’ threat was imminent. Did she trust him that much? He wondered what went on in her mind…

Each trial took time, and when he recovered from his third, the sun’s arc broke out from the horizon. A giant fireball emerging from the endless water, lighting up the sky, its reflection gleaming on the rocking ocean; he could never witness this inside the walls. He gawked in awe, standing tall against the morning breeze; fresh but the salt coated his tongue. Floating in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight tolled his mind. But this breathtaking sight blew it all away, this was his adventure, how he imagined it would be.

His inner child brought a grin to his face as he opened his arms and felt the sun and the wind against his skin, his Astylinds idling around him. The sound of the waves, the whistling wind, the warmth of the dawn—his serenity peaked. He could succeed in his breakthrough now, confidence coursed through him.

……

His spirit pool broke the barrier with ease this time, he finally experienced his seventh awakening with the syrupy cloud drifting out. And with it came his fourth innate skill—Bralek. It was soul defense in essence, yet the freedom of choice for the source made it one of the two most customizable innate skills; other being Varos—the physical defense.

Ewan’s choice for Bralek was the Nine-Tailed Fox, the World Eater. The risks he took with her weren’t for her defense though, it was for the ability she could gift him with. Even If nothing else, just getting the ability to use ‘suggestion’ was worth everything he went through.

The glossy jet pearl glimmered, the argent specks swirling around. Bridge, extract, and condense; he’d completed three parts of the spell, it was now time for ‘cleanse’. Ewan sat cross legged, his eyes closed, and the pearl hovered before him. His spirit invaded it and targeted the fox’s memories, her consciousness, her will. The pearl throbbed; a deathly scream echoed in Ewan’s soul space. His runes trembled and his spirit pool bellowed. It wasn’t easy wiping a World Eater’s existence, but he persisted.

She was dead, he was alive; she was an Astylind, he was a Staron—possibilities smiled upon him.

Sindra—Ice Favored.

He attacked the pearl with Ice-Anima, cornered her, and chipped away at her resistance.

Finally, after his spirit almost drained against the defiance, the pearl stilled. Her basic consciousness couldn’t create traps, but Ewan still completed another round of cleansing before confirming his success. The soul pearl was now his to do whatever he wanted. So, he cast the last part of the spell—merge—and absorbed the pearl inside his soul space. Like a candy in his mouth, it melted in his soul and merged with his spirit pool. Soon an argent barrier enveloped his soul space, flickering and a bit unstable; his nigh depleted spirit couldn’t carry its weight.

Ewan inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He reached out and silver particles rushed at him, cheering, and playing around. He could sense them now, they were Mystic-Anima.

Mystic Favored….

This was the same as when he used Frost’s ‘Ice-Favored’ with his Sindra—the second level of affinity. Yet, the ice was temporary, the mystic was permanent. He could control the Mystic-Anima as he wished; they moved on his will, acted on his thoughts.

He shook his head and sighed, culling his excitement. Without the mystic rune or a Cerade’s ‘core’, his spells would have minimal effect. His human body limited him too, it would hinder the passage of Mystic-Anima before the completion of ‘Elementalist’ modification.

Still, this surpassed his expectations, much better than the ‘suggestion’ he was hoping for. Though the cost to performance ratio would be horrendous, he could at least cast mystic spells with external Mystic-Anima.

……

It was the first promised sunrise, so once his spirit recovered, he connected to the hub and navigated to Nana’s shop.

‘Hopes & Wishes’ the tilted board above the shop read in fancy fonts. Ewan’s spirit blob floated before the gate for a few seconds before he entered. The ring of the bell and a well decorated shop greeted him; a chandelier hung from the artistic ceiling, an algae-green orb floated to the side, and a sky-blue rug hugged the floor.

“Nana?” Ewan asked, letting the gate close behind him on its own, and the bell rang again.

“Ewan?” A spirit blob sprung up behind the u-shaped counter. “It’s really you!” Nana said and bolted towards Ewan.

“Calm down a bit,” he said. She halted and hovered in front of him, agitated, much smaller than his spirit blob. “Are you hurt? Where did you end up?” he asked.

“I’m good, I fell on an island. The ocean’s ginormous, I never thought it would be this big,” she said, hopping up and down. “It is an ocean, right? It’s not a river, right?”

“It’s an ocean, rivers don’t taste like that,” he said. “Have you explored the island yet? Is there any danger?”

“I don’t know, I just stayed on the beach. I built a small hut there,” she said, her blob fidgeting around, restless. “How does it taste? Is it really salty?”

“It is, way too salty, try it yourself but don’t drink too much,” he said. “And be careful when you explore. Just stay on the beach if you’re not confident, and also don’t go too deep in the ocean.”

“Okay!” she said. “What about you? Where’re you? Did you get hurt?” Her words sped up with each question.

Ewan chuckled. “I fell in the middle of the ocean. I’m floating there right now,” he said.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 13.2

Anima: [Fire – 13.2 | Ice – 13.2 | Blood – 13.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 523
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-87 Enthrall

Chapter-87 Enthrall

“Is it safe there?” Nana asked.

“As safe as it could be,” Ewan said. “I didn’t get hurt, don’t worry.”

“Like you’ll tell me even if you did,” she said.

“Hello, do you sell spells?” A customer walked in and asked, his spirit blob about the same size as Ewan’s.

“Not now, we’re closed,” Nana said and sent him away.

“You were listed…” And he grumbled his way out.

“You’ll lose your business if you keep doing that,” Ewan said, floating to the automated worker and checking it out. “Do you have enough Novas? Let’s buy better workers if you do.”

“I do.” She hovered closer to him. “We can leave messages then!” she said, bouncing on the counter.

“Not by selling uncle’s materials. Do you have enough of your own?” Ewan asked.

“I-I should have,” she said, still hopping. “By the way, I have something for you.” She dove behind the counter and brought him a bean-sized argent core, the Nine-Tailed Fox’s core that fell into the space crack with him.

“It was with you?” Ewan asked, examining it.

“I found it beside me when I woke up, thought you could use it,” she said, bouncing into rapid bobs.

“Why’re you so fidgety?” he asked. “Did you eat something weird?”

“I-I might’ve. The berries on the beach smelled good.”

Ewan frowned. She had food packed in her pendant; she didn’t need those berries. And more so, she must’ve checked them with her <Identify> before eating them.

“Nana,” Ewan said. “Did you lose your pendant?” It shouldn’t be the case since she could connect to the hub with her connector, but he still asked.

“No, why?”

“Then is your soul hurt?” The berries agitated her spirit, she must’ve taken them to connect to the hub.

“N-No,” she said and backed off.

Ewan snapped. “Why’d you connect if your soul was hurt!” he yelled, and Nana flinched.

“Y-you said sunrise….” Her voice dimmed.

Ewan took deep a breath and tried to calm down, and the bubbling heat cooled down to a simmer.

“D-Did you get my message? That nineteen times was hinting at my age,” Nana said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Ewan said. “I’ll go buy the worker, make sure this orb can receive it. And go rest after that, don’t connect again until you’re healed.” He barged off; the door slammed behind him, and the title board dangled loose.

…….

The ice block floated on the open waters for a week, Ewan’s adjusted life continued through the sunrises and the sunsets, through the storms and through the quiet. The instability was a bane for brewing potions, so his Astylinds remained stuck at their levels. Frost too couldn’t train much for he was responsible for the durability of the ice block; whenever it melted, he refroze it.

The threat loomed on all sides, yet Ewan’s days remained peaceful; as peaceful as they could get in the middle of the ocean, with nature testing his mettle every now and then. He studied the mystic spells in his Spellbook, nurtured <Bloodlust>, observed and detailed down the cores for <Transmute>, practiced Ryvia and Sindra, and started a diary named ‘Ewan’s Adventures Log’—the first part of which was his story up till here.

Enthrall!

He traced the familiar spell circuit that he practiced for the last week, but the spell ended without any effect. It not only lacked a target but also the Mystic-Anima as its fuel. Ewan traced it again, chomping a mouthful of dried meat jerky, letting the Mystic Anima seep in, drop by drop. Slow and steady, he controlled the floodgate. Still, even that tiny amount clashed against his other Anima and rampaged inside him. His ‘Mystic-Favored’ and his other runes helped him manage them and suppress the fight, but the havoc left him groaning in agony. The jerky helped as a distraction, so he bit once again and chewed through the pain. Until he brewed the mystic potion and modified his heart again for the ‘Elementalist’, he had to tolerate this.

Enthrall!

He retraced it, and the circuit crumbled after he let go. It was a ‘suggestion’ type spell, basic and standard, unfit for combat. Both its min and max Anima points were humbler compared to the other spells he focused on, but it could do the job otherwise.

If only….

If only he had the mystic rune, his new affinity wouldn’t go to waste. His mind wandered as he played with Mystic-Anima around him; the first glare of dawn brightened his dome, and the silver specks glimmered in the sunlight.
The rune would instead make it stronger; he would surpass even Frost in terms of affinity and might reach the third level—[Endued]. More control, more power, less cost, increased efficiency overall—this was what the higher affinity levels promised.

He was at the seventh awakening, inching towards the next breakthrough. Soon he would stand at the peak of this step and would attempt to advance to the next—Spirit Nebula. And the bubbling soul essence would let him contract another Astylind. If he could find or buy a mystic type, it would solve his problem and his gift would shine.

Frost, Orange, and Toast, all three cried and pulled him out of his thoughts, they found something. Ewan exited the dome he stayed in, gulping the last bite of the meat, and looked at the sun’s arc rising from the horizon. A dark spot blemished the flawless sight today. From nail-tip size to a pea, the blot ballooned.

Ewan squinted and let his eyes adjust to the dazzle. It was too far away to identify but its blurry outline reminded him of something—a manmade carriage that ran on water.

Ship.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 14.2

Anima: [Fire – 14.2 | Ice – 14.2 | Blood – 14.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 128
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-88 Ship

Chapter-88 Ship

Airadia was a plane, the center of its star system, it had been for ages. Then why did the horizon on the ocean behave as if it was a curved world? Ewan drifted in his thoughts as his calculations about the ship’s speed errored. A mystical blur now obscured the enamoring vista. But it was not the time to mull over the mystery, he had to prepare for the ship. Be it hostile or friendly, he couldn’t miss it if he wanted to stand on soil again.

His presumed distance to the horizon didn’t work, so Ewan took an average ship’s size as written in his textbooks and calculated again. The inflation rate of that speck in the sunrise gave him a vague answer—it would arrive in an hour. It was enough for his preparations. He gathered his Astylinds back in the runes, changed back into his tattered clothes, dove into the water, and pushed the ice block down into the ocean with his spirit interference. It thawed and melted inside the water as Ewan shot up a couple of fireballs in the air. It could not only give the ship his position but also identify him as an Asheva.

He did everything he could do, it now depended on the ship, he could only wait.

The dot in the sun ballooned as minutes rolled. Half an hour later, the image cleared up and the ship appeared in all its glory as Ewan hurled another fireball to the sky. Aged ebony wooden frame with a naked maiden figurehead, towering masts, ropes running around, unfurled sails; the ship raced on the ocean, leaving a trail of frothy water in its wake—they were coming towards Ewan.

…….

“Howdy, mister stranded Asheva, care for ah lift?” a middle-aged man with patchy stubbles asked in common tongue but with an accent, leaning out of the ship’s railing.

“Yes please,” Ewan said, the disturbed waves rocking him back. “I’ll be…grateful.” He coughed out the water. The ship was bigger than the average size mentioned in the books. Its shadow threw him in the darkness when it sailed closer, the wooden frame creaking and singing with the ocean.

“Would rather get your coins,” the middle-aged man said. “Novas, not Crelith.”

“How much?” Ewan asked. It was a rip-off, but if some Novas coins could solve his plight, he would be glad to part with them.

“Forty if ya pay coins, the same in grams if ya do crystals,” he said.

“Too much, make it ten, I’ll pay with coins.”

“Not in a position to bargain, are ya? Pay me thirty and I’ll let ya up, food and room included.”

“Fine, but I’ll only pay half now.”

“Sure mate.” The middle-aged man grinned and signaled the other workers with a whistle. They scampered around, the deck groaning under their steps. Soon a rope ladder dropped down the port side, its rungs moldy and rotten. Ewan latched on and climbed, supporting most of his weight on Ryvia, and jumped onto the deck from the last step.

“Are you the captain?” he asked, rubbing his hands clean and shaking his hair dry.

“It’s me, name’s Cork. Welcome to ma humble ‘Maiden’s Wish’,” the middle-aged man said with a smile, reaching out.

Ewan shook his hand. “Thank you for your help. I’m Ewan,” he said, creating a puddle where he stood, the drenched clothes weighing him down. The captain was also an Asheva but not stronger than him. The Anima fluctuations and the spirit disturbance around him put him at the fifth awakening or its equivalent— his <Identify> confirmed it.

Pockmarked-face, tangled greasy hair hanging over his ears, yellowed teeth accompanying the stinky breath, over-washed coat that was losing its navy-blue color, and a pair of airy trousers drooping beyond his bare and dirty feet. Cork had lived long enough to be at Step-1, yet he wasn’t. Either he remained stuck at the final point—where most stumbled—or his Astylinds had died if he was a Severynth, Ewan surmised. The difference in strength was big enough that his mischievous side boiled, he wanted to try his new spell <Enthrall> on him and duck the payment.

If he succeeded, all would be good. But if he didn’t, the consequences could be heavy. Best case scenario, he would pay more and pacify the situation. Worst case scenario, he would have to kill everyone, getting stuck on the ship instead of the ice block, and he couldn’t navigate. Unwanted and needless risks in unknown situations was a recipe for disaster, but it could give him some important data on his spell and could save him Novas. It would also leave him with something good to write in his ‘adventure diary’….

Eventually, his rationality overpowered his impish side and kept him in check. Unfamiliar territory, uncharted relations, someone more powerful than him could be behind this ship—a subtle book cover often hid an explosive story. After all, they sailed the treacherous waters and the ship remained intact, just a captain at the fifth awakening couldn’t explain that. Ewan smothered the idea of the spell and paid the man fifteen Novas coins.

“Here’s half, I’ll pay the rest when we go ashore,” he said.

“How’d ya end up here anyway?” The captain opened the pouch and checked the coins, one by one.

“Fell from the sky,” Ewan said.

“Ha, ain’t even tryin'.”

“Truth will cost you a discount.”

“Na mate, coins are better. They outlive the truth,” Cork said, biting the coins then scrubbing them against his overcoat. “All’s good. Come, lemme show ya the digs.”

The shipmates stared at Ewan as he followed Cork through the door and down the deck. A musty chemical stench mixed with piss, shit, sweat, and rotting flesh assaulted him. Dim glass lanterns burned on the walls; the wooden floor squeaked with each step. And cages crammed with chained Starons lined both sides of the narrow corridor, their dead yet feral eyes unmasking the ‘goods’.

This was a slave ship.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 14.2

Anima: [Fire – 14.2 | Ice – 14.2 | Blood – 14.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 113
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-89 Kidd

Chapter-89 Kidd

“Just up ahead,” Cork said, taking down a lantern off the wall and leading Ewan to the floor below; the stretched corridor at the stairs end had a couple of closed doors on both sides.

“Slaves, right? Why’d you keep them up there?” Ewan asked, minding his head on the low arch. “Shouldn’t they be on the bottom deck?”

“We got a nasty bunch this round,” Cork said, taking out a ring with bunch of keys from his overcoat. “They might poke a hole in ma baby if I let’em and drown us. Don’t worry, the stench won't reach ya.” He grinned and opened the door to a room on the right side; the gate creaked open, and the stuffy waft blended with the must. It was a compact compartment with a bed and a table, and the round glass window let some light in. Spiders patrolled their cobwebs in the corners, and a thick layer of dust and salt sheeted the floor and the furniture—their presence commented on the lack of care, the room hadn’t seen any guest in a good while.

“How’s it?” Cork asked, letting Ewan enter.

“Good enough,” Ewan said. “Thanks again.” He shook hands with the captain.

“Top deck’s open, feel free to walk around. Just don’t go below, ma boys are a bit touchy about their space,” he said. “Someone’ll send ya food soon, our cook’s mighty good, you’ll like it for sure. Rest up, room’s all yours till we see land.”

…….

Ewan rid the room of the dirt and the spiders, changed clothes, replaced the dusty and salty bedsheet with his own, and took a nap on the bed while Orange and Toast guarded him. His sheet smelled sun dried, it was the scent of home, and it comforted him. He curled up and drifted off with a smile.

The sole glass window brightened the room as the sun rose to its peak, dust specks floating in the pillars of light. The knock on the door dragged Ewan back. “Yeah?” he asked, yawning and stretching with a comfortable groan, wrinkling the sheets.

“Captain told me to bring you food,” a childlike voice answered.

“Put it on the table,” Ewan said, opening the door. Orange and Toast already went inside the rune and the tattoo. “Thank the captain for me.”

Ewan sat on the bed. “What’s your name?” he asked. It was a boy, too young to be on this ship—his voice had barely broken, and his face was hairless.

“Kidd, sir,” the boy said, chancing a glance at the food and gulping as he removed the cloche. The tips of his messy beige hair brushed his ears, his ashen irises mirrored the bread, faint charcoal streaks ran over his cheeks and nose. And he clothed a fair tank top that had turned coal-black and cuffed and belted khaki trousers that was too long and too roomy for him.

“Your parents couldn’t find a better name?” Ewan chuckled.

“I was born on the ship, and everyone just called me ‘kid’, so Cork named me Kidd, with an extra ‘d’.” He took another peek at the food and his nose twitched.

“So, what do you do here?”

“Chores. I’m trying to join the crew officially, but Cork won't let me,” Kidd said, hanging his head down and flicking the non-existent pebble with his toe.

“You must know the routes then?” Ewan asked.

“I know a lot of things.” Kidd puffed his bony chest, his ribs jutting out the sides. “I can reach places no one else can, I’m the smartest on the ship.”

Ewan lifted his brows and his lips curled into a playful smile. It could be dangerous if he ditched payment with <Enthrall>, but this kid was safe. At best, someone would perceive him as the curious kind.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“N-No,” Kidd said, gulping with his eyes on the food again.

“Come, eat with me. It’s too much, I can't eat it all.”

“I-I shouldn’t disturb you, sir,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it. Come, sit,” Ewan said.

Kidd sat on the bed beside him while Ewan dragged the table to them, the grating wooden legs rumbling in the room. Freshly baked bread with meat stew and grilled fish and veggies on the side, the dish looked appetizing enough.

“Dig in.”

Kidd hesitated for a few seconds but soon assaulted the food. He ripped the bread, drowned it into the stew, and stuffed his mouth, shoving some grilled fish after.

“Slowly, you’ll choke,” Ewan said. “Do they not feed you?”

“If’s espeshially mafe for you,” Kidd said, or at least tried to with his cheeks puffed to their limits, spitting bits of food everywhere. “If’s too fasty.”

Ewan smiled and poured him a water of glass. Even if they spiked the food, it wasn’t the quick acting type.

Kidd swallowed and tore another piece of bread.

“So, where’re we going?” Ewan asked when his mouth was empty, before he could scarf again.

“Drarith, it’s our hometown. We’ll reach in a couple of weeks.”

“Nice name,” Ewan said. “Tell me about this place, how do they treat outsiders?”

“You’ll fit right in,” Kidd said, cramming his mouth. “Lots of foreign Ashevas come to Drarith, it’s the only port city around.”

……

The information just oozed out of Kidd nonstop, it was far too easy. Ewan’s smile vanished and he reined back all thoughts about exploring the boy for more info. He was a blabbermouth; the captain must’ve known that. Ewan didn’t even need to use <Enthrall> and the boy recited the history of the city. Either Cork sent him as a courtesy, or he was feeding him wrong information…

Ewan frowned; he was confident in his presumption—the boy wasn’t the deceiving type. If he was, he was a master at it, which was the unlikely case. Perhaps he was being too careful… No, it was best to remain cautious. If the captain inferred his actions, then using <Enthrall> to tinker with the kid’s head could be risky. Any distortion in his memories could alert Cork. But Ewan could use it to validate his suspicions. And so, he acted.

Enthrall!

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 14.2

Anima: [Fire – 14.2 | Ice – 14.2 | Blood – 14.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 113
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-90 Water Potion

Chapter-90 Water Potion

Kidd leaned back on the bed, his stomach stretched round, and exhaled a long breath, his eyes dazed.

“Full?” Ewan asked, ignoring the grinding burn that Anima friction caused inside his body.

“Y-Yes, thank you,” Kidd said, sitting straight again. The boy emptied the plates; he diligently wiped even the crumbles and the drops. Yet, he stayed awake and alive—the food was clean.

“So,” Ewan said, looking into Kidd’s eyes, clutching his mind. “Did the captain tell you anything before sending you here?”

“H-He told me you were our guest, and to do as you say.”

Ewan dove deeper, clearing any inhibition that could be in the boy’s head, and dragged him to his deepest subconscious. “How’d you know everything you told me?” he asked.

“Rumors, gossips. D-Drunks talk a lot,” Kidd said.

“They do, don’t they.” Ewan smiled. Either the captain didn’t think too much about it or he sent the boy as a courtesy, the confirmation eased him. “How about this? You tell me these rumors, stories, what you hear, what you see, anything you know about Drarith, and you can have a share of my food,” he said, releasing the grip on Kidd’s mind.

“Can I?” The boy jumped up, beaming. But soon he deflated. “Cork will beast my ass, that’s your food.”

“He won't,” Ewan said. “Tell him I let you eat.”

The boy grinned. “Thank you. I’ll tell you everything I know,” he said.

“Now, take the dishes and clean the table.” Ewan shooed him away, breaking the spell’s effect.

The captain showed courtesy, so he too reciprocated and didn’t ask anything sensitive about the ship or his slave trading business. After all, the captain emphasized that he was a ‘guest’ here—he intended to remain as such for the duration of the journey. Information was important but so were relations. Ewan disliked most kinds of social relationships, informal affairs, but business and formal connections were crucial, especially in a new and unknown place. He just might need the captain’s services one day.

…….

Cork might or might not be the strongest on the ship, there was no feasible way to confirm it. Revealing his secrets under the circumstances, even if inside the room, was a death call. So, anything related to <Transmute> was a negative.

Though it also had an element of risk, he steered towards brewing potions for the body modification, he’d put it off for long enough. It had two layers, he had to finish both before he broke through to Step-1. There was a lot left to do, so he busied himself.

Because he had ‘Mystic Favored’, he opted for the mystic potion first. But a quick search in the hub’s trade list shocked him. Not a single shop listed anything related to the mystic-type ingredients. Ewan combed the crevices, probed other spirit blobs, explored the hub, yet couldn’t find any. If the ingredients had this problem, what about the Astylinds themselves? He pursued the thought and looked for an unhatched, newborn, or even an infant mystic-type Astylind. All he received in return though was rejection and disappointment, and it gave him a headache. He planned to contract a mystic-type after reaching Step-1 to get the rune, but all his ideas crumbled before reality.

Mystic potion was still doable, he had the fox’s core and the blood. He could use <Transmute> and create the potion as many times as he wanted. But the rune….

There must be a way, he clenched his jaws and took a deep breath. If he couldn’t buy an Astylind from the hub, then he would look for one himself. If he couldn’t find one even then, he would search for a way to create the rune without an Astylind. No matter what, he wanted that mystic rune.

But none of it was possible from the confines of the room, so he killed his bubbling theories and moved on to other potions—he chose ‘water’ first.

…

…

…

It had been some time since he last created a potion for this technique, yet his skills hadn't rusted. Even when the ship rocked as much as it did, he adjusted. Eighth attempt, and he had a test tube half-filled with cerulean liquid. It sounded of ocean waves when it sloshed, frothing up—this was the water potion.

……

Ewan lay on the drenched bed, panting, the wooden ceiling wobbling before him. Cold sweat trickled down his skin, crashing waves blared in his ears, and the retch knocked on his throat. The bed could be a mess if he did it there, so he dragged himself to the edge and puked. Icy water gushed out of his mouth, puddling on the floor, reflecting his bloodless face as he gasped for air. Sweat streamed down his nose and dripped on the pool as he hung his torso by the edge of the bed.

Each potion had different side effects when modifying his heart, this was the water potion’s. He’d suffered from numbing frigidity, from scorching heat, from bleeding buckets, but this was by far the worst. The gags braked his breaths, it smothered him. The numbness, the pain, the dizziness, all was fine, but the suffocation made him helpless.

When the potion’s effect ended, when it modified his heart, Ewan closed his eyes and rested on the bed, not minding the soaked sheets. His Astylinds guarded him around the room. His condition had them worried, their concerns bombarded his soul, but they calmed down when he stabilized.

The roaring tides hushed; the hissing winds dimmed down; a wave of fatigue assaulted him, and he rode it to the dream world. The mess he created in the room was a chore for tomorrow, tonight he didn’t even want to lift a finger.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 14.3

Anima: [Fire – 14.3 | Ice – 14.3 | Blood – 14.3]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 109
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-91 Nanny

Chapter-91 Nanny

A morning walk on the top deck against the breeze broke Ewan’s torpor, it woke him up. He stood at the bow, facing the boundless ocean, the choir of the squawking seagulls adorning the backdrop. The ship sailed away from the dawn, westwards, renting the waters apart, yet the lack of a reference point stilled it against the endlessness.

“Had a nice sleep?” The captain climbed the stairs behind him and joined him on the bow.

“I did,” Ewan said, smiling.

“I heard ya fed our Kidd?”

“I shouldn’t have?” Ewan asked.

The captain broke into hearty laughter. “Ya can, ya can,” he said. “Did he keep ya entertained?”

“Very well so,” Ewan said. “I have you to thank for that I reckon.”

“Just bein’ helpful.” Cork chuckled and took out a damp cigar.

“Can I ask you something?” Ewan cast <Ember> and lit the cigar’s end, drying it before the desired smoke oozed out. “These seagulls are here, so there must be land nearby, right?”

“Mmhmm.” The captain took a deep puff, the red burned brighter, and exhaled. “Not our stop though,” he said.

“Why can't we see anything then?” Only water surrounded them, not even a hint of land appeared in sight.

Cork smiled. “The ocean remembers,” he said.

Ewan frowned and looked at him.

“It’s a folklore, a legend among the sailors and those who live near the ocean.”

“What does it mean?” Ewan asked.

The captain pointed ahead with his chin. “All ya see, it’s just an illusion.”

“You mean the horizon?” Ewan stared at that line dividing the sky and the ocean. “How?” he asked under his breath.

“Who knows.” Cork took another puff. “Must be some Anima shit, doesn’t matter much, we have our ways of navigating,” he said.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Seen it my whole shitty life mate, already numb to it,” he said. “Not from around the ocean, are ya?”

Ewan smiled. “Discount if I answer that?”

The captain chuckled. “I’ll leave ya to your sightseen',” he said and walked away.

Ewan shook his head and observed the ocean again, his hands in his cargo pockets. If it was all an illusion, it must be related to Mystic-Anima then. But what did the ocean remember? It showed them the horizon, as if the world still traced a curve…

He reveled in the mystery, it excited him. What he was seeing could be a sight from the past, when Airadia was still a planet. Landscapes changed, people changed, islands emerged and drowned as Airadia advanced and became a plane, but the ocean still remembered….

This must go in his diary, Ewan grinned. No textbook could tell him about this, no lesson could convey the experience. His adventure so far had stood up to his expectations.

……

“So, the idiot pissed his pants and ran back to his old dad,” Kidd said, gobbling the stir-fried crabs and veggies.

“Dad? Wasn’t he the grandson?” Ewan asked.

“Dad, grandad, it’s all confusing.” Kidd swallowed before stuffing again. “The old man was sleeping with his only great-grandson’s wife behind his back, who knows if the idiot’s his son or great-great-grandson,” he said.

Ewan lifted his brows at the unnecessary yet amusing gossip.

“He’s been pissing at our business for a while, trying to shut us down. If not for the old man, we would’ve fed him to the fishes long ago.”

“So, who is this old man?”

Kidd chugged down half a pint of ale and wiped his mouth. “He’s the lord of our city, he owns it. But he’s too old now, can't manage shit.” His face flushed and he hiccupped. “Cork respects him, he says the old man was unbeatable in his prime, but I don’t see it,” he said.

Ewan looked at his drooping eyes, this was it for today, anymore and the boy would pass out in his room—not a hassle he wanted to deal with.

“It’s enough,” he said, taking the pint of ale away from Kidd. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Now take the dishes away.”

“But I still haven’t told you about his daughter,” Kidd said. He blabbered as Ewan pushed him out of the room. “She’s so beautiful, I’m going to marry her when I become a Severynth. Wait!” Ewan closed the door in his face.

The day was still young, he could brew another potion for his body modification today. There was no benefit of choosing one over the other, so he picked at random—dark.

…

…

…

His routine repeated every day as he cozied up on the ship. From Anima Potions for his Astylinds to practicing his innate skills; from nurturing ‘Bloodlust’ to studying spell circuits; from chatting up the captain and touring the top deck to listening to Kidd blather away.

Continuous brews pushed his skill higher, he improved with each potion, and soon chipped down the attempt count to less than five for the modification potions. The ingredients expenses went down, productivity went up; his efficiency soared.

Dark potion—wind potion—earth potion—wood potion—light potion—lightning potion.

He knocked down one element after another and strode past the first layer in about a week, with only the mystic element left.

His Astylinds didn’t laze around either. The tiny room hindered their combat practice, so they strived to improve their levels, Ewan’s potions supporting them. Frost led the pack, Iris followed close, Orange too was diligent enough. Even Toast lay silent on Ewan’s lap and let his siblings train in peace.

They were all maturing; the notion grew in Ewan’s mind, but he snuffed it. The back-to-back dangerous situations forced their current behavior. Once he found a stable place and spent enough time in peace, they would go back to being the rowdy bunch they were.

Severynths were but nannies in disguise, his mind couldn’t help but wander.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [7th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.8

Spirit: 14.9

Anima: [Fire – 14.9 | Ice – 14.9 | Blood – 14.9]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 94
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-92 Krorkey

Chapter-92 Krorkey

Though he wasn’t safe per se, the level of risks had plunged. Deadly concerns didn’t distract him, immediate threats didn’t surround him anymore. The slight spooky hum from beneath the water wasn’t here to keep him on edge, the fins of death didn’t circle his iceberg, and he’d left those massive tentacles behind that bode their time for a chance to strangle him.
His Astylinds secured the place, they stood on yellow alert around him—on the table, on the bed, near the door. The conditions were as favorable as it could get for him on the ship. So, he attempted his breakthrough for the eighth awakening.

…

…

…

He exhaled the long-held breath, his lungs emptied, and his tension left with the warm damp air. He breathed in, and the cold but salty wind packed his chest.
The feeble wall had finally crumbled; he demolished it and strode over to the next level. He now stood at the eighth awakening, one step away from the peak. His spirit calmed down, he fell back and lay on the bed, his breaths and his heartbeats echoing in his ears.

“Krorks spotted! Starboard ninety degrees, ten minutes out!” Someone hollered on the top deck, it broke the serene silence.

That was a warning call; Ewan sent all his Astylinds in the runes and headed out. The slaves who’d yet to shatter eyed him, their feral glance tingling his senses, yet only the hubbub from above echoed in the corridor and their breaths reigned quiet.
Mayhem gripped the usual systematic deck, but it had a rhythm to it. The shipmates dashed around, brushing shoulders but never colliding. Some hauled the ropes to furl the sails, some prepared swords and sabers, and some readied their Astylinds. Most had a bird type of the wind element; a handful had the water type.

The captain was on the poop deck by the wheel, scanning the starboard side with his patinated scope.

“Trigger the shield,” the captain said to the shipmate beside him as Ewan approached them.

“Cap, we’re running short of crystals and coins. It won't hold for long,” the shipmate said in a husky voice. He probably just woke up from a long nap.

“We should have some in reserve,” the captain said.

“That’s the last of ‘em.”

“Use some of it, buy some time,” Cork said and sent the shipmate away.

“Need help?” Ewan asked.

“Usual shit, just didn’t expect them to hit us so close to the shore,” Cork said. “If ya can help, I’ll give ya your discount.”

Ewan panned his eyes across the starboard—the ocean was calm, as calm as it could be with the tides; he couldn’t see anything from there. But the sentry had called, there must be some danger heading for the ship. And if it didn’t have the captain breaking in cold sweat, then it was something he could wipe the floor with.

“I want half the loot,” he said. “Plus, thirty percent discount.”

The captain laughed. “Is your help worth that much?”

“Your sailors might get injured, but I won't let any die,” he said. “If you up the discount to fifty, I won't even let them get injured.”

Cork stared at Ewan, tapping the scope on the wheel; the metal clattered against the wood, and the lens quivered in its notch. “And if ya can't?” he asked.

“I’ll let go of my share and will pay you full,” Ewan said, chuckling. “You’re not taking much risk with me. Even if I do fail, I won’t get in the way, it’ll all be the usual for you.”

A milky transparent barrier encased the ship, random pale streaks racing on its surface. It isolated the ship from outside, not even the wind came in. The ship came to a gradual halt, swaying with the waves as the mast creaked.

“Fine,” the captain said, looking at the shield. “Get ready, ya have fifteen minutes.”

……

Ewan observed the barrier while the shipmates readied for battle. This was a sustained barrier of ice element, unlike what caged Obria. The structure was solid but brittle, one crack could bring the whole thing down. He followed its connection to the main mast and used his Ryvia to scan the spell circuit inside. It was crude, prone to damage, and had no defense against inside attack. He could kill the shield with a thought if he wanted to.

The quality and the construction gave him an idea of the ship’s background. Even if the barrier couldn’t compare to the one that shoved Obria to its demise, it still wasn’t something an Asheva at the fifth awakening could buy. Unless Cork was opulent in secret, this scenario couldn’t come true. But if he was, he wouldn’t dive into slave trading. Someone more powerful than Ewan backed this ship, he now had confirmation. And he heaved a sigh of relief and thanked his prudence that eventually defeated his impish side. If those bleak years hadn't turned him into a cynic and a skeptic, he would’ve created an avoidable enemy here.

“We’re ready, cap. Save the crystals,” one of the shipmates that led the group on the main deck yelled.

The ‘Krorks’ were wrestling with the shield so far but were unsuccessful. Ewan leaned over the railing and scanned one of them as the barrier flickered.

Krorkey—native Starons of Airadia. Half an average Human’s height; pale-ivory skin; frog-like face; fins for ears; a large, bladed fin on their back; and a flat tail that acted as a rudder. They matched their description in the explorer’s edition books he had up to even the small details.

Dumb, dim-witted, and dull, yet they had a short fuse, they saw red in a heartbeat. Their lack of a spoken language and their fondness for violence hindered the formation of a working society. They lived in small packs underwater and opted to loot and hunt instead of striving for self-sustenance. Their habits made them the perfect pirates, it amused Ewan.

The Krorkeys climbed the ship, their claws bored holes in the wood.

“Get ready!” the leader of the shipmates yelled; and the Water Pelican perched on his shoulder squawked with his wings unfurled.

The Krorkeys shrieked in response.

Ewan moved back to the main mast, to the center of the deck. The strongest of the Krorkey was at about Level-3 or 4, he didn’t need his big guns.

They mounted the railings and jumped on the deck, howling, as the sailors attacked. But before they clashed, Ewan threw his hands sideways and chained all the Krorkeys in place with his billowing Ryvia; some hovering in the air, some ready to claw. Ghost-silence washed over the deck; the shipmates gaped at him after the initial confusion.

“Go ahead, you can kill them now,” Ewan said and shattered the moment.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [8th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.9

Spirit: 15.2

Anima: [Fire – 15.2 | Ice – 15.2 | Blood – 15.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 94
Crelith: 4984

 

Spoiler: Chapter-93 Drarith

Chapter-93 Drarith

No one hindered the loot division after the easy triumph. The shipmates even offered to carve Ewan’s share and deliver for free—he gave a nod. Instead of his share of the fins, the fangs, and the gills, he asked for more cores.

Krorkey had the natural ability to train with Anima, they had cores like Astylinds and many other Starons. But they were a Staron, not an Astylind. Was there any difference between their cores and the Astylinds’? Ewan had yet to hold a Staron Core, it intrigued him. Cerades mimicked this ability and created a core to train. They faltered, the incompatibility collapsed their path, but their thought process only added to his curiosity. Though it wasn’t a priority, he could study it in his off time.

“Ya got some skills,” Cork said, climbing to the poop deck where Ewan was.

“Is that envy I hear?” Ewan asked with a hint of a smile.

The captain chuckled. “I ain’t submitted to despair yet,” he said. “I ain’t givin' up.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Ewan said and walked away. “Find me if you need me, I can help for a price.” He waved a goodbye and went back to the room.

……

A week later.

The shoreline widened from a blip with the break of dawn, the ship’s shadow stretching its hands towards it, accompanying the cheers and the hoorays. Sailors prepared for the dock, and the captain stood tall at the helm, a smile lingering on his weary face.

“Home sweet home,” he murmured.

“How long will you stay?” Ewan asked, gazing at the shore that covered the horizon.

“A few months at least, maybe a year or more,” Cork said. “What bout’ ya? Staying in Drarith?”

Ewan nodded. He planned on staying for the time being, till he had enough information about the geography of this place at least.

“Come to the docks if ya need me for anything.”

“I will,” Ewan said and walked towards the main mast, where the exiting plank would connect the starboard to the pier.

The hubbub of the port soon faded in amidst the squeaking seagulls and the roaring waves. Different sizes of ships lined the dock. Some battered—some new. Some old and crumbling under the pressure of time—some young, ready to confront the ocean with fresh vigor. The crowd was a chaotic mess yet there was a sense of order in place. The horde at the fish market, the crates loading on the ships for export, the slaves lining up for auction… The shore inched in, and Ewan basked in the scenery that exceeded his imaginations.

The city sizzled on his tongue; this was the city of spices—Drarith. Unwalled and the only port city around, it the lorded the area. If nothing went wrong, he was going to stay here for a while, this would be his home.

While Cork sorted his slaves and readied for the auction, Ewan bid his farewell and took off. A permanent residence was ideal for the longer stay, but he settled for a good inn for now. They lined the streets near the docks, perfect lodgings for sailors who partied after their voyage. They all lacked the quiet Ewan wanted, so he headed further in. The spice market succeeded the pier, and the tingle in his nose worsened.

Bags of raw and grounded spice were up for wholesale, slaves and workers lugged the packed crates. Yells, hollers, and shouts blended in with the customers bargaining back and forth at the top of their lungs, it all became indistinct and garbled chatter. He threaded his way through the crammed market, squeezing, pushing, all while protecting his sensitive nose with Ryvia.

Finally, after several minutes of battling the crowd, he navigated out and reached another street, heaving a sigh of relief. It was early morning; the place ran desolate except for the cleaners who broomed and watered the paved streets. Kidd said the inns in this area were expensive but much better than those near the shore. The well-maintained buildings with properly scrubbed façade on both sides of the street verified his words, they were indeed much better. But this was still too close to the spice market, so Ewan took the empty tram and headed further in, as its rusted wheels squealed with each round.

……

Five Crelith coins per day, and Ewan rented a good room. A bedroom with a separate hall and a balcony that opened to the ocean. The single set of sofas and a table in the hall left enough space for his Astylinds to train and practice, and the bedroom was quiet enough for him to study in peace—it was coins spent well. Still, he couldn’t stay here for long, or his expenses would skyrocket. He had a lot to do, a lot to study, a lot to research, and a lot to brew, but earning Crelith coins weren’t among them. So, he had to manage with what he had.

After he freshened up, settled in, and had a spiced egg sandwich for breakfast, he headed out to roam the streets. Words were just words after all, they couldn’t do justice to the scenery of the city. Most of all, he had to validate all that Kidd blabbered about before making any move, not to mention he also had to register his identity here. Luckily, the city accepted foreign Ashevas with open arms, so his registration went without a hitch—he only had to give his name, age, and level.

It was the official registration, up next was the ‘unofficial’ one, a visitation to the one who ruled. As an outsider, greeting the lord of the city was the norm, and he didn’t intend to go against it. So, he packed twenty Novas coins and a hundred Crelith coins in two separate pouches and took the tram to the Ensil Villa. This much should be good enough as a gift for the first meeting, he reckoned. Especially, the Novas coins, which was a sign of his goodwill. Unless the Governor had a screw loose, he should accept his offerings.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [8th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.9

Spirit: 15.9

Anima: [Fire – 15.9 | Ice – 15.9 | Blood – 15.9]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-8] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 74
Crelith: 4874

 

Spoiler: Chapter-94 Ensil

Chapter-94 Ensil

Ewan sat in the guestroom, admiring the asymmetric patterns on the wall. They resembled the style of the Ashocan Kingdom—an ancient giant that existed long ago on the appointed eastern end of the Lostrax Continent, kissing the Morinfair Ocean. If the Governor inherited its legacy and this city sat above its ruins, then he was still on the same continent. The space crack at least didn’t fling him off to any extreme corner of Airadia.

There was also a lack of any advanced technology here that Obria had, the room was so and the crawling route that took all his morning declared such as well. Except for the run-down tram, the city even lacked basic conveniences. It could be deliberate, he reckoned. This was an unwalled city, which meant living with death just outside the door. The air was thick with the hint of blood when he strolled the streets, even the Kyron citizens had the aura of death lingering around them.

If developing towards a combat-oriented city was the aim, the lack of ‘peaceful’ conveniences made sense. The absence of protection from the perimeter walls would keep the citizens on edge, and the existence of outside threat would keep them united. Ewan couldn’t help but admire the Governor’s methods of reigning over others and maintaining order. The idea aside, it was the willingness to employ those ruthless methods that garnered his respect.

While the thoughts took him on a ride, a young man of about Nana’s age pushed the cotton-curtains aside and walked in. His unusual ocean-bay colored hair hung over his neck; his earring jerked with his steps.

“Hello, Ewan?” He greeted with a smile, flashing his pearly canines.
His name and details had made their way to the Ensil Villa before he did, he wondered which secret tram the information took that was faster than those corroded wheels. Ewan stood up, pushing the thought aside, and shook his hand. The man barely matched his height, a bit shorter even if not for his boots with thick soles.

“Ewan Ayres, nice to meet you Mr. Ensil,” he said. This must be the young man that Kidd told him about, who tried to shut their slave business down. Though, he didn’t seem to be the kind to piss his pants—must’ve been an exaggeration or a metaphor. Or a page of such trait hid behind his sophisticated book cover.

“Please, call me Kiev,” the young man said. “Gramps couldn’t free his hand, so he sent me to greet you instead.” He nestled on the sofa opposite Ewan and gestured for him to do the same.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you by coming unannounced,” Ewan said and took out the pouches from his inner-jacket pocket, pushing them towards the Kiev on the table. “My offering of goodwill and a gift for the first meeting, hope you accept them.”

“Not at all, not at all.” Kiev grinned and pocketed the pouches. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“I had some breakfast.”

“Come with me for lunch then, I was about to head out. I’ll bring you to the best restaurant in the city.”

…..

They sat by the open window on the third floor. The restaurant towered beside the spice market, the laced breeze drifting in tormented Ewan’s nose, and he barely kept the sneeze in. Though his nose reddened as a cherry. But he was a guest, helpless against the power that controlled the city. He couldn’t be impolite and unfurl his Ryvia to keep the menace out, let alone voice his opinion and have the window closed. Especially when the scenery outside interested this ‘grandson’ of the Governor so.

The waiter took their order and Ewan turned to look at what had trapped Kiev’s attention for so long—it was indeed the ongoing slave auction at the docks.

“Are you interested in buying?” Ewan asked, sipping the chilled water to wash away the tingles in his throat. He didn’t like being nosy, it was a waste of time and effort. But the current situation nudged him to do so, after all it concerned his wellbeing in the city. He needed to integrate, and this man was his way in.

“No, just looking,” Kiev said with a smile.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I heard you don’t like that business.”

“Where did you hear that?” Kiev smirked and looked at Ewan.

“Sailors have nothing much to do on the ocean, the gossips go around,” Ewan said. “I hear the drunks talk a lot too.”

“What is your opinion on it?” Kiev asked.

Ewan shook his head. “Don’t have any. I don’t know or care enough to either oppose it or support it,” he said.

Kiev laughed. “Yes, most are like that,” he said. “And I’m not any different.” He looked out the window again. One man in the crowd huddled around the auction stage roared his bids one after another, defeating all buyers with opulent prices. Size, gender, race, condition, he bought them all regardless, and his throat croaked at the end. Kiev looked at him and his lips curled.

That was his man bidding for him, Ewan guessed.

“Will you release them?” he asked, looking at the number of slaves dwindling on the stage.

“Do you wish to have one?” Kiev asked.

“Not really,” Ewan said. The waiter brought all the food on a large tray and served them both. Ewan couldn’t name any of the dishes, but the aroma made him salivate. The reddish-brown gravy, the succulent chicken, and the generous dollop of butter on top—the cooked and bloomed spices didn’t hurt his senses like the raw ones, they aroused them instead.

“May I ask why though?”

Kiev smiled. “How long will you stay in the city?” he asked.

Ewan took the hint and dropped the topic before he touched a nerve he shouldn’t. “I’m planning on staying for some time. Can I trouble you for some recommendation?”

“How about that?” Kiev pointed and asked. Beyond the docks, the land curved out to meet the ocean, almost a small panhandle, rolling chains of mountains shading the area. “We have some villas up in the mountains, many foreign Ashevas like you live there. But rental isn’t possible, you’ll have to buy one if you wish to stay,” he said.

“How much would it set me back?” Ewan asked.

Kiev’s smile widened into a sly one. “If you pay with Novas coins, it’ll be cheaper.”

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [8th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.9

Spirit: 15.9

Anima: [Fire – 15.9 | Ice – 15.9 | Blood – 15.9]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-8] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 74
Crelith: 4874

 

Spoiler: Chapter-95 Transmute

Chapter-95 Transmute

A pathway paved with coarse stones snaked up the mountain, cutting through the steep but dense forest. Each step took him higher and higher than the ocean. His destination—one of the many villas that dotted the mountain.

Birds called, animals bayed, and the forest sang. With the smell of petrichor, the morning dew on the leaves, and the sound of a creek burbling in the background, the traces of serenity thickened the air.

When the Starons down at the docks became indistinct peas, though off-colored, Ewan reached his destination. Dense fog blocked his way. It hindered the sight, it plugged the sounds, and it smothered the smell of anything beyond the churning white. It even occluded his Ryvia from sensing anything.

He took out a charcoal-black pentagonal token from his claw-ring and ran his spirit through it. The fog roiled before him and spread apart to make way, nigh saluting him from the sides. Once the protective shield was open, he crushed the temporary token and threw the powdered pieces into the forest, the spell circuit in it sparked and crumbled with a pop.

He had to buy the villa; rental wasn’t possible as Kiev Ensil said. It was a move to tie him and the other Ashevas down with the city’s fate and involve them in the issues, to strengthen their ranks. A rental house was dispensable for most, but many would hesitate to give up their permanent residence that they ‘owned’. Though being on the receiving end of the subtle manipulation left a sour taste in his mouth, Ewan was also helpless; he had to settle in the city and the price of renting a room in an inn would pile up after some time.

Thus, he forked out the cost and purchased the deed, which meant everything related to the villa was his. And so, for caution’s sake, he couldn’t use the security measures employed before.

The villa was a one-story manor with a large, partial-fenced courtyard circling it. Dust-ridden recliners faced the ocean, dried-brown leaves, overgrown grass, and rotten twigs covered the lawn.

The inside of the house wasn’t any better either, worse even, as the grimy door handle previewed. The musty air stuffed his breath, his boots cut apart the layer of dust on the floor and exposed the ivory tiles. The white clothes covering the furniture had long yellowed, and some even held a few doubtful dark patches. He sighed; this place needed a lot of hours before it could become livable.

But before doing anything, Ewan went down to the basement, into the last room at the end of the dark and damp corridor that contained the control spell circuit and took care of the protective shield. For the token replacement, he used his claw-ring and had the spell circuit recognize it as the key. The energy was also running low, so he replaced the old Novas coins and put in new ones into the notches—it needed three, regardless of the element, and would sustain for a long time.

Once he activated the protective fog again, he heaved a breath of relief and slouched. After so long, he finally had his own place to stretch his legs.

……

It took Ewan two days to get the house in order and organize everything—two days and a lot of Novas. After deducting the payment for the villa, which was suspiciously underpriced, and the coins needed to run the protective spell circuit, he ran low on Novas. Luckily, his situation was stable now, he could focus on making some profits off the Potioneering skill he’d honed so far. Most of all, his ‘Spirit’ had long fulfilled the criteria for <Transmute>. When his observations and analyses crammed diaries after diaries, the spell would shine in all its glory.

Dawn broke and Ewan prepared for an arduous day ahead with a mug of milk tea—still tasted bland as ever. The division of rooms in the basement made it easier for him to work, even down to the smallest details aimed towards helping an Asheva.
Though the different finishing, the contrasting shades of age that the passage of time left on the walls, remarked that the basement came long after the birth of the villa. It had its own story that the bricks and the concrete of different hues were eager to tell.

His Astylinds went in separate training rooms, modified to favor their elements. While Ewan went into the bright Potioneering room on the left. Before working on his own skill and spells, he had to start earning from his shop. He’d named it ‘Brewed-Awakening’ with the aim of making it a potion shop. And till date, he had yet to sell any.

For starters, he went with the Anima Potion. It was a simple potion that always remained in high demand. He had many water-element cores and the corresponding blood on hand, so he chose that and readied his tools.

….

….

….

An hour later, four water-element Anima Potions suitable for Level-7 and Level-8 Astylinds sat on his table. His success rate hit the peak at four potions with four attempts—zero failure. The pride and the arrogance that came with surpassing his past-self seeped into his bones, but he didn’t let them interfere and worked with a clear mind, an open mind. The lack of reference and comparison to other Potioneers also reined him in, it budded a seed of doubt, marring his pride. Perhaps his dazzling success rate was a common occurrence in their eyes….

Ewan didn’t intend to put the potions in the shop for now, so he stored them in his claw-ring. Because of high demand, the potion market was the easiest to get into, yet was also the hardest to maintain a stable standing in. Once he couldn’t keep up with his opponents, they would drown him with numbers. He was a no-name newbie right now, no one paid any attention to him or his shop. He wanted to take advantage of this and chomp a chunk of the market share before anyone realized what happened.

For that, he needed huge batches of potions to dump into the market at a low price. The profit margin for Anima Potions differed based on the level, Ewan planned on sinking his teeth into the high-level market first—remaining inside Step-0. After all, his <Transmute> spell gave him a sharp advantage in this field.

And so, Ewan took out three Level-2 cores of water element and arranged them in a triangle on a separate stone table by the side—they were the sacrifice. After he took a deep breath and placated the butterflies in his stomach, he drew the spell circuit for <Transmute> in the center with a brush, detailing the result that he wanted in its strokes and curves. The streaks of the thick vibrant blood inked his creation, and its red contrasted the white-marbled table.

The last edge completed the circuit, and after double checking it with its book and his own notes, Ewan traced the same spell circuit in his soul space and cast the spell.

Transmute!

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [8th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.9

Spirit: 16.1

Anima: [Fire – 16.1 | Ice – 16.1 | Blood – 16.1]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-8] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 19
Crelith: 4722

 

Spoiler: Chapter-96 One Year

Chapter-96 One Year

His spirit dimmed. The blood ink in the center resonated with his cast and shone with a bleak tinge. It squirmed at every other heartbeat then dispersed into wine-red threads, sinking into the three cores. They trembled and soon powdered into dust, leaving flecks of cerulean light that hovered and swarmed towards the center. It took minutes for the light specks to merge and stabilize, and when they did, an orange-colored Level-8 Astylind Core of the fire element sat in front of Ewan, gleaming and reflecting his gaping astonishment. He checked and confirmed with his <Lens> spell, it was an actual core of the fire element, no different than the ones he hunted or bought.

And he broke into a quivering grin. The prospects of the spell flooded him with excitement. It could create shortcuts, saving him much time and effort. The only requirement was his research. The more knowledge he had, the more the spell would glimmer. If he employed it well, the profits would soon rain upon him. He was proud of his Pa and his grandpa for creating such a spell, yet the same also pressured him. Continuing those monsters’ legacy wouldn’t be an easy task….

The door of his room slammed open and his Astylinds barged in one after another, creating a ruckus with their synced cries, shattering his wandering thoughts. They didn’t want to practice alone in those rooms. Even the diligent Frost was of the same mind, and his complaints echoed with the others. Ewan shook his head and let them stay with him.

A lot had happened but only months had gone by since he became a Severynth and contracted them. His Astylinds were only a few months old, mere babies. Expecting them to be mature and focus on training in solitary was a miss on his part. It wasn’t a big deal anyway. He was a Potioneer, he could enhance their levels without those modified rooms.

“Don’t make too much noise,” he said and went back to brewing potions—this time with the core he transmuted. Though it wasn’t necessary, a brewed potion’s effect could further confirm its authenticity.

……

Around a week later.

Ewan lounged on the recliner out in the yard, facing the ocean through the gap he opened in the fog-cover, his family’s journal sprawled on his chest.

The red dusk shimmered on the waters, the breeze rocked the waves, the chirping birds returned home against the setting sun, but his churning mind couldn’t appreciate any of it right now, he didn’t have the capacity to.

He teetered at the boundary of the ninth awakening and had many things to consider before moving forward. The most important of which was his mystic-favored affinity. He scoured the hub for days, looking for any information regarding a mystic-type Astylind, but nothing came up—fake or otherwise. The lack of any reports or hints of such sightings bound his hands and feet, he was helpless. Though he wanted an Astylind of mystic element, he wasn’t impulsive enough to hunt for one without any data; he didn’t want to waste his time looking for a needle in a haystack. At least for that, he could burn the haystack and take the needle out, but he wasn’t capable of burning the world to find an Astylind…

So, to take advantage of his unexpected affinity and not let it rot in some corner, he only had one option left—create the rune by himself without any Astylind. Others might stumble here, but his confidence came from his <Transmute> spell. Except for creating any living beings, the spell showed no limitations so far. The theory of it even supported transmuting a breathing creature with a heartbeat, so a rune shouldn’t be an issue, Ewan surmised. The only hiccup was the lack of information regarding the rune. The spell worked based on his knowledge. Unless he studied the mystic rune in detail, transmuting it was only a pipe dream.

It could be that his level was too low to contact such data. If he was right, then he had to wait till after he broke through to Step-1, it might even stretch to Step-2. Or he could climb the ladder in the city and get the Governor’s help. At his level, getting the information on runes should be feasible.

Ewan made up his mind, he would chase this plan. He might fail. All his time, effort, and resources might go to waste. But all investments had an element of risk. If he shirked every time, he would soon find himself at the door of mediocrity.

He noted down his plans in the diary and left them for the future. Now, he had to pay attention to more immediate matters—his choice for Varos. It was a defensive innate skill but differed based on the material used. His family’s journal advised using earth-element materials, but Ewan was a bit reluctant. He chose mystic element for Bralek—the soul defense, choosing the same for Varos might give him another surprise, or so he hoped.

He tapped the pen on his diary, the nib dotting the page. The same issue with the mystic-type Astylind hindered him here too. He had no means to buy any mystic-type material….

One year, he finally wrote down and circled it—he gave his obstinance an ultimatum of one year. He had a lot of work to do before attempting to break through to Step-1. From completing his modification-cycle for ‘Elementalist’ to breaking into the potion market, from upgrading his Astylinds to learning more spells. His estimate for everything came to about one year. If he still couldn’t find anything in that time, he would follow his predecessors’ advice and choose the earth element.

The faint cheers and the hollers trickled in as the world darkened and took him away from the diary. He looked down at the city—towards the vast central plaza—through the crowns of the towering trees. A huge bonfire blazed in the center, its flames reaching for the sky, dancing in rhythm with the jolly crowd around. The purple sky had reddened for the city.

Ewan chuckled. The constant fear of death lying outside their doors had loosened the shackles of the citizens of Drarith. They lived their days as if it was their last. Unrestrained sex, flowing booze, sumptuous feasts; they caroused almost every night, for they’d survived another day. It was a contrast from the lawful colony he was familiar with, and it amused him. But the mere amusement couldn’t make him join them. He put his diary back in the claw-ring and went inside the house, he had a lot of work pending.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [8th Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.9

Spirit: 16.7

Anima: [Fire – 16.7 | Ice – 16.7 | Blood – 16.7]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-8] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 14
Crelith: 4703