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Chapter 110 - Mournful, SC
🕑 Added 2024-09-13 21:43:29 +0000 UTCThe spells were safely left in Mera’s dungeons, despite Elora’s insistence for Sunday to attempt using them all right there. She was as excited as him and was particularly interested in the so-called Shovel. Sunday doubted it was as simple as the name suggested.
Adib had prodded and asked for more arts, but the man had no spells that interested Sunday. It was quite a disappointing shopping trip, although he was very excited about the summon. A wolf or a bear, or maybe something else? Under the Berserk Moon, it would be a foe for any vampire or suicidal bastard looking for trouble.
Sunday had an open slot, but he wanted to prepare mentally first and get some practice first while leaving his mind unburdened by a new spell. Adding more variables to his already strange kit was asking for overcomplication and trouble. He was still unsure if he had managed to use even a part of the Fearful’s strength. The spear had felt reluctant, oddly standoffish as if it was a living thing.
Mera had mentioned that it could be a result of the will of its previous owner since bonding changed both spells and magi. A stab of it was supposed to overwhelm the mind of the victim with terror unlike any, but the hound hadn’t felt all that.
Ah, and then there was the issue of still NOT having a fireball spell. A preposterous insult to any transmigrator, if there was one.
Sunday slapped the dummy before him with all the force he could muster. The strike left his hand trembling and numb. The wood was surprisingly hard and the dummy remained unreactive, but that was to be expected. Arcanum-produced practice dummies were supposed to be hard to destroy and he had asked for one of the best ones – supposedly able to mimic a living being’s presence.
He was using one of the training rooms – a destitute little space in the basements of the Arcanum. It looked underused, forgotten, and gloomy. Even the ever-burning lamps giving off light were trying to defy their monicker by flickering slightly.
Still, he didn’t want to practice his spells or talents where he could be seen. Slapping a dummy over and over again was going to draw some eyes, especially considering that he was under surveillance everywhere he went.
It bothered him more and more, but Sunday was nothing if not resourceful. It gave him twisted satisfaction to trounce around naked, unashamed of the prying eyes, pick on his nose, talk to himself, and pretend the darkness was about to eat him. That would give them topics to discuss! Whispering to his stash of gold was also one thing he had started doing, hoping that showing love for money would make those sly bastards shower him with it.
Knowing some of the vampires, and what a circus the Arcanum was, he didn’t doubt some of it would give results. Alas, it didn’t seem to be the same for his current morning practice.
Come on you piece of shit. Work!
He struck again, but nothing happened.
The Slap was one of the abilities that had been with him since the very beginning. It just worked. Sure, the effects changed and sometimes it took over him, like inspiration came to an artist, and made him behave like going around and slapping people was some sort of an art, but…
It was goddamn useful.
And oh, so satisfying.
His hand landed on the cheek of the dummy with little result. It just felt like hitting wood, since technically it was what he was doing.
I wonder if the Baron will agree to lend me a few vampires. Rubien maybe? I should see how far I can push them. How much patience comes with living as long as they do? Rubien was certainly an example of that. Despite his temper, he allowed me to slap him around like there was no tomorrow and didn’t fight back. Ah.
This was going nowhere. The slap simply refused to work on the inanimate dummy. Sunday left dejected, lamenting the small number of points he had used up. Maybe Zihei would agree to help, with a payment? Sunday had neglected him lately, with everything going on.
But no, he had a meeting with the Baron to prepare for. He had promised Elora to bring her along, which was just fine since her presence would make them think things were going their way. She was a spy after all.
Maybe some worshippers would pop up and he would be able to practice the slap on them. Sunday half expected the one that had allowed him this Talent to appear in a dream or something, but there was nothing. Not even a word, apart from the newly added message on the golden page’s description that he was not doing well.
It was depressing.
At least the brewery was going well. The money from the Baron had made the lives of the Empty Manor kids much better, and no one dared touch or mock them, no matter their family history or reputation. And Sunday’s pockets had grown deeper yet. He was looking for a permanent home to buy. Staying at the Rat was growing tiresome, although Mera’s cave was quite comfortable.
There was also the issue of Riya and avoiding her… Ah, women.
Sunday reached the Wayward Rat and after a brief hesitation plunged into the tunnels beyond the cellars. Mera was there, as usual. She was like a silent observer of it all. Always ready to assist, but not intruding in any of Sunday’s decisions or acts. She had not spoken much after the first meeting.
It felt quite nice. Almost like having a motherly figure of sorts. At least he was certain no one else was spying on him in her abode.
“I’ll go wrangle a spell, wanna watch?” Sunday said to the air. He often did that just in case. This time he was correct.
Kallus appeared in his side view, leaning on a wall as if he’d always been there. Today he had chosen a spectacular purple suit made adorned with pieces of fur at the collars. It made the wight look even more alien.
“Why, a heroic deed in the making? A new tale? Something to destroy this doomsaying boredom that hangs above me like a storm cloud? I’ll partake, thank you!”
Weirdo.
At least there was someone to watch the show. Sunday had quite the selection of spells now. The Fearful Skewer, Flowing Flesh, the sketchy Messenger spell he had won and he didn’t plan to touch in case it was a brain worm specializing in eating corpses in disguise. And his new purchases.
His Smash Ball was held there too. Mera’s attempts had resulted in the stoppage of its degradation. Sunday wanted to figure out how to fix the spell and keep it safe and usable for the future. With the addition of the Berserk Moon, it would be downright terrifying. He was giddy just thinking about it.
The side of the cube holding his spell became liquid, just like it had before and Sunday touched the spell. Instantly, a terrifying but somewhat sad roar washed over his mind, and then calmed down, willingly accepting him as its new master.
That was good. Spells that had easily accepted him were his strongest. He felt it nestle in his soul space, and the essence churned as it integrated the new spell.
The golden page unfurled.
Spells 5/5
Phantasmal Fall (Bonded)
Omen of Duality
Visage of the Berserk Moon
Essence Ward
Mournful Spirit Bear
A bear? Alright, that was fun. He didn’t particularly like the ‘mournful’ part. Why would a spell mourn? Why would it…
“Was that it?” Kallus asked, perched on his favorite rock. “Are you not going to battle the spell, and then lay dying as I stroke your hair and then lick my pinkie and stick it in your ear just as you pass?”
Sunday looked toward the wight. Today was one of those days. Their latest talks had been good, but Kallus was Kallus.
“Dude… wet willy as I’m dying? Have you no shame?”
“What’s a wet willy?”
“Never mind.”
It took quite a bit of essence. Sunday exhaled, as he felt it was only right to do so. Threads of translucent energy traveled through the air from his mouth until they slowly grew into the image of a massive bear. Or something like a bear. If there was a hound next to it, it would just look like a puppy.
Sunday had thought he had been scammed reading that name, but apparently, the summon was powerful. He could feel the strength of it. The essence of the world was supporting the spell too, as if his own was not enough or not yet worthy.
Little by little the beast became more real, but its form still exuded ghostly energy. It’s teeth and claws were sharper and bigger than any bear he had seen before, and its features were twisted into a demonic visage.
The Hunter looks on interested. Perhaps he was wrong about you… perhaps you have redeeming qualities.
Sunday narrowed his eyes. The fucking Hunter again. Who was he and why was he peeping too?! What had Sunday ever done to the Hunter? Wasn’t it enough all the perverts of the city were having a competition on who would learn the most about him?
No matter. He would show them all. He would wrangle those hounds and use them as sled dogs through the barren mountain the Hunter lived in.
But first… why was the grand demonic spirit beast before him lying on the ground, with its fearsome head that could terrify death itself buried in its oversized front legs?
Strange moaning sounds reached Sunday’s ears, and his eyes grew wide.
“Oi, brother. Bro. That’s a great monster bear and all, but… is it crying?”
Sunday bit his lip. This was… unexpected. Weren’t spells supposed to serve him? He tried to mentally will the Bear to move, as he did with the moths, but all that hit him was a wave of sadness.
“This is… interesting,” Mera said.
She had come to observe apparently. Sunday didn’t like her tone. The fearsome dreadful nightmare bear that could put the hounds of the dumb Hunter to shame was… crying. Furthermore, it was refusing all instructions.
Did Abid know? Surely not. He said no one had been able to tame this spell, but the process had been quite easy in reality.
Did my eagerness to summon something through the Berserk Moon lead me to getting scammed? Shit. Fuck. No, I refuse to believe this!
“Miss Mera, may I ask for your assistance?” Sunday asked.
“Bro…”
Mera blinked at him, then smiled. “With what?”
“I’ll make the bear go crazy, so can you… stop it from killing me? I’m doubtful it can kill either of you.”
Mera nodded. “That’s my duty.”
“Bro…”
Sunday ignored Kallus. He dismissed the Bear and then willed the Vision of the Berserk Moon to the living world. Casting the spell felt exhilarating now. Almost as if a deep, dark part of him was anticipating touching upon that red world again. What was it? Why was it there?
The Bear came next. A ghostly beast with eyes that swallowed hope and spewed hatred. They were red now, the only part of the summon that had changed. And as it was with the moths, the redness started growing.
A roar shook the caverns and Sunday barely managed to react as the beast rushed toward him. A pillar of Mesmer Steel rose to meet its charge, and the space around shook once again.
“This…” Mera gasped. “Try to dismiss it.”
Sunday’s eyes widened. She was as strong as a rank four! This was not possible!
The Mesmer Steel had cracked a bit, and the bear was taking out its frustrations on it. After a few heavy strikes of claws that were like abyssal knives, the pillar broke apart and the pieces melted. The summon was still going, and Sunday tried to cancel the spell.
It didn’t work.
Wha—
A claw reached him but Mesmer Steel appeared again, this time in the shape of a plate, and blocked the attack. Spikes shot out one after the other, in even intervals, piercing the ghostly body of the Bear. Sunday half expected it to do as the hounds did and turn into smoke, but even if that was an option, it wasn’t doing it now.
It took more than half a dozen attacks for the creature to dissipate into mist. Sunday felt it return to his soul space and tried to focus on it, but all he got was the image of the depressed abyssal beast.
“Bro! That was… awesome!” Kallus yelled. “This monster! It’s the perfect mount for our heroic deeds! Can you imagine? Riding it through the city! Ah, the ladies will get drench—”
“Kallus!” Mera scolded.
Sunday nodded. He could imagine. He could imagine being torn apart by his own summon if he was not careful. Mera wouldn’t be there the next time.
However, another thought was overwhelming caution. The Berserking Bear was akin to having a hound on demand. He could wreak havoc with a simple cast. It took a lot of essence, but not nearly enough to leave him drained and helpless.
This was a mutually assured destruction spell. The bear would just rip apart anyone, or give them depression. It was a win-win for Sunday either way.
And what Kallus was saying was reasonable too. It would make a completely badass mount.
So long as it didn’t try to maul him.
