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Chapter 125: Not Meant For Greatness
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 12:00:15 +0000 UTC“Fahptis is so unbearable now,” Zeris said in Code, as she tore open another bag of holding with a knife and damaged its enchantments. Dozens of them lay shredded on the bed around her, where she sat. “He keeps talking about how he fought you to a standstill and would have whittled you down if he’d had more time.”
“Well, he’s not entirely wrong,” Caen said, as he restitched one of the shredded bags with a Flora spell chain. At the same time, he carefully added a string of modifiers to the Transmutation spell he was casting.
He sat at an ornate table, hunched over a pitcher of water that was slowly freezing.
Zeris’s bedroom in their great-grandmother’s mansion was large and elegantly designed. The smooth marble walls and the thick rugs further accented the stark mural of the Faithful Descent faction on the ceiling. The floor, however, was littered with shredded spatial bags.
“I would probably have run away eventually. That armor is actually a pain to get past.”
Zeris snorted. “I’ve had to hear him drone on and on about that. Ancestors. After the trial, he wore the armor everywhere for the rest of the day, can you believe? Even at supper.”
Caen chuckled. “It’s not hard to believe at all. He’s now ranked in twelfth place on the scoreboards. Of course, he’d be proud.” He finished restitching the bag and placed it with the others. “On my way in, I made the mistake of congratulating him, and he pulled me aside to give me tips on how to ‘overcome my abjection’.”
“Oh, ancestors,” Zeris laughed. “Why are you just telling me this now? What did he say?”
“It all comes down to hard work and humility, apparently.” Caen shook his head. “And spending more time around experienced practicians like him.”
“Ugh! That halfwit,” Zeris said, as she tossed aside the bag she’d been abusing. “Alright. Are you done with those?”
“Yup.” There was a pile of restitched bags on the table he was sitting at. Using a Kinesis spell, he roughly levitated them and propelled them at her. “You’re ready to cast it?”
“I think I have a clearer idea of how the enchantments are folding space within the bags,” she said. “But let’s see.”
She was trying to expand the space within the bags using a spell. It would be a much less stable working than the enchantments themselves, but she’d been looking forward to doing this for months now. Caen was excited about it, too.
Once she’d run out of spatial bags, he’d contributed the ones he’d ‘acquired’ in the trials. And as soon as Chasma was done with the sack, he’d give that to her as well. Her examination of the enchantments ultimately resulted in her completely destroying said enchantments, but that was a small price for magical improvement. Besides, the bags of holding they’d been given at the trials weren’t made to last long.
They worked in companionable silence.
The pitcher of water in front of Caen was mostly frozen over. While still maintaining his ongoing transmutation, Caen held the side of the pitcher and began casting a heating spell. Both spell effects warred against each other, applying great strain to the Transmutation process but not to such an extent that it was halted.
A few minutes later, the water within the pitcher was frozen solid. As soon as Caen stopped feeding mana into the spell construct, the ice began to melt rapidly, despite the room being quite chilly. Stable transmutations were still very much beyond him at this point. He was, of course, currently Mimicking Zeris’s Transmutation affinity, which felt like a 2, maybe a 3.
His transmutations were not yet ‘clean’, which meant that they essentially corrupted his target materials. He’d have to throw out the water after this or just use absorption on it. He began heating the pitcher, and soon the water within was boiling. He began transmuting the water back into ice. Transmutations that imitated natural occurrences were much easier to execute.
By the time he’d frozen the water again, Zeris let out a breath.
“Success?” Caen asked.
“See for yourself,” she said with a smug smile, tossing the heavily stitched bag to him. It was only big enough to hold a watermelon.
Caen stretched out a hand to the shelf nearby and used Kinesis magic to wrench thick tomes towards himself. His finesse with the discipline was lacking, so most of his workings involved abrupt manipulations of force. They slammed into his hands each time. Once he’d gotten ten of them, he stuffed the large books into the bag, and they all fit with space to spare. He took pillows from her bed, and only after he’d shoved in three of them, did Zeris object.
“You’ll overload the spell if you go any further.”
Caen lifted the bag one-handed. It was rather heavy, as the spell she was using didn’t account for weight. “Zeris, this is very impressive. Good job.”
“Thanks.” She let out a pleased sigh.
“Want to experiment?”
“I’d like to try using different modifiers, sure, but it’s evening already. You can’t miss your party, wake day boy.”
He chuckled, glancing at the time display spell in the corner of his vision. “Let’s get going then.”
“Orissa’s performing here in the second stratum tonight. But she says she’s going to make it up to you.”
Zeris’s sister, Orissa, was a musician and was currently on tour here on the Island. She was very busy.
They chatted as they walked along the hallway. There was some bustle in the foyer where one of the private warp gates sat.
One of Caen’s great-uncles, Armintil, was issuing instructions to the house staff and several members of the family faction, most of whom were decked in armor. The man looked to be in his fifties, even though he was older than Caen’s grandparents.
The old man turned to Caen and Zeris. “Ah, yes, Caen. There you are. We need more F-ranks. You are a Gatherer now, aren’t you? Fahptis is going into Wraith-burrow for a celebratory hunt.”
Wraith-burrow was one of the unique Planes here on Ser-gwu Island. Caen had never gotten the opportunity to go into it or any other here, and he was actually tempted.
“We’ll provide defenses for you, of course, and you won’t be put in harm's way lest you hurt yourself,” Armintil said.
“Thank you for the offer, Ketur, but my grandmother—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever Elemna asked you to do, it can wait. This is more important.”
“It’s actually my wake day today, Ketur,” Caen said respectfully. “My grandparents have prepared a small celebration for me.”
The man paused, pity etching his face. “Oh. It’s that time of the year already, isn’t it? My condolences. Go on.”
Caen and Zeris walked past, and he heard someone mumble, “Poor sod. And he seemed to have such a bright future.”
“Well, not all of us are meant for greatness,” Armintil said. “Alright, where’s Gebda?"
Caen and Zeris exchanged an amused look as they headed for the warp gate.
***
“You’re supposed to be on my side, Caen, you sleep once a week!” Zeris accused as she cut a large slice of cake for herself.
Vensha guffawed where she sat at the dining table, another bottle of alcohol in her hand; its potency was evident in its sharp tang, barely suppressed by the flowery aroma of the drink.
They were all in Elemna and Niodt’s apartment, perched around the dining and the living room.
“I am on your side,” Caen said, laughing. “We both have terrible sleep habits, but yours are far worse.”
“Using a spell to supplement your sleep is no better than a scarce few hours of heavily interrupted sleep through the night,” Niodt said, shaking his head. He was on his eighth bottle of liquor and looked as clear-eyed as ever.
“I only wake up to jot ideas,” Zeris huffed.
“Yes, dear, it’s not your fault that you’re a genius,” Grena said dryly.
Caen’s parents sat cuddling on a sofa, chuckling.
“Grandma, they’re bullying me,” Zeris said to Elemna.
Elemna was seated beside Vensha at the dining table. “Stop bullying Zeris, everyone. Let’s bully Nio and Ven instead.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Vensha said, after knocking back another bottle. “Slow it down. It’s not a competition.”
Blood-healers, Body-enhancers, and Venefic practicians had the highest tolerance for potent intoxicants like alcohol.
“Wait, how many bottles have you both had today?” Grena asked, seeming concerned.
“Five, I think,” Vensha said with a shrug.
“Six,” Niodt said, smugly.
“Actually, it’s seven for you, Aunt Vensha,” Caen said. “Grandpa’s had eight.”
“Oh, shush, you tattletale,” Vensha grunted good-naturedly. “And why haven’t you had any? It’s your wake day.”
“I don’t like the taste,” Caen admitted. “But I’d probably win this game.”
Niodt shook his head. “Kid gets one mind-boggling magical ability and suddenly becomes overconfident.”
There were chuckles all round.
“It’s time, Caen,” Elemna said, clapping her hands, “for your present.”
Sh’leinu spoke up from the sofa she was sharing with Ergen. “Everyone, get comfortable. We’re going to Uncle Vai’s astral domain for this part.”
Caen squinted at that. His present was in the Deep Astral. Curious.
“Caen, you’ll have to give me a hand,” she said.
Sh’leinu could transport herself and two other people at once without issue, but that was far too taxing for Caen to do quickly enough, so he had to ferry Zeris and Niodt one after the other.
Vai and Sh’kteiro were waiting for them.
Comments
Mel
I feel like the grumpy sword is slowly being won over by Caen… just whether that will outweigh him not being that talented at swording as he would rather use magic…
dethrothes
Nice break from all the action. I hope the last trial is a tournament duel of some sort. That would be sick.
