DB Lazarus
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40. Chairside Procedure - II
🕑 Added 2025-01-19 06:00:05 +0000 UTCIn the water, the strands floated, twirling around each other and releasing bursts of light in a hypnotic dance. They moved so organically. Perhaps if bubbles filled the glasses, I could have attributed the movement to the effervescence, but even in still water, the strands danced like worms.
Could the Marks be alive?
I quickly chided myself; I didn’t know anything about the fluid. Fluid mechanics alone could explain the phenomenon. If not that, then the strands’ growth could cause unequal tension, leading to twists and turns. However, I couldn’t help but wonder. If so, the implications…I had enough on my plate as it was.
Instead, I sat, eyes glued to the sample as the hypnotic dance wound down and the lights intensified.
“What’s happening?”
“Your Mark exhibits more colors than most. Curious. Most Marks have a preference. I have only seen such a broad spectrum after harvesting a young child’s Mark. Maybe it’s your level?” She tapped her lips with a finger. “That might explain it. Either way, you are lucky to see this—it is quite rare.”
“Preference?”
“I am sure that you’ve noticed that when people use certain skills, they emit light from their Marks. While every Mark absorbs Aether, how the Aether is converted into Energy and channeled through a body differs. Certain colors tend to suggest different effects. While I would like to tell you that there’s a hard and fast rule, there isn’t. However, the general rule of thumb is that physical skills emit red and mental skills emit blue. However, as you just saw, there are other options there.”
“Does anyone know why?”
“It is debated. Without a doubt, some of it is familial. Certain shades run in families and are more common in certain people than others. However, the same skill can emit different light even within a family. Much of that is probably related to the different techniques used to learn or trigger a skill. Childhood or, possibly, the early levels are a key time for this. Once set, preferences tend to propagate.”
“So basically nature versus nurture.” As frustrating as it was, at least some things seemed constant between the two worlds. Rarely did a single gene cause a trait or a disease. Most diseases need environmental factors interacting with multiple genes—overwhelmingly frustrating if you were trying to prognosticate or reassure a person with a family history of cancer or Alzheimer’s. However, on the flip side, if you had said genes, it was potentially reassuring.
Unfortunately, my flippant remark earned me an appraising look. “That is a rather succinct way of putting it.”
She waited for me to expound further, which I promptly declined. Of course, nature versus nurture was not a common framework here. They probably knew nothing about genetics, and I didn’t dare give the slightest introduction to the topic. Someone of her intellect might glean far too much.
She frowned but continued. “As far as we can tell, nature, as you called it, has little impact on the actual skills—at least, not at an individual level. Some postulate that we all—Oresiani, Ættir, Volki, and Humans—have been shaped by the land much like the simpler creatures.”
I raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “It is very clear that markings found in animals and plants are more representative of the Aether around them than their abilities.”
“Just how different can the Aether be?”
“Quite. Have you not noticed the difference between the mine and here?”
I shook my head. “Only the strength.” With everything going on, I had not put too much thought into the differences.
“Given what you have been going through, I am not too surprised. Aether comes in different types. And when you focus on it, you can sense the differences. Some register it as a taste; others, as a sensation. However, most describe the different types as flavors since everyone agrees that an ingredient’s markings affect its taste.”
“Huh. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Give it time. I am sure your,” she winked, “heritage hasn’t helped.”
I tried not to stiffen at the subtle reminder of how much she suspected. “How about with monsters?”
“Oh, such an interesting topic. There are no rules with those abominations.” She waggled a finger at me. “And if someone hasn’t told you this, be very careful with what parts of a monster you consume. I would not recommend anything unless you have a skilled [Chef] preparing it. The risks are too great.”
“So all those terrorvoles we kill in the mine, their meat is wasted?”
She let out an amused, melodic chuckle that belied her age. “Oh, foolish boy. We don’t waste anything. Just because most can’t tolerate it doesn’t mean we all can’t.” She gave me a devilish grin. “Some of us find the meat quite delicious.“
Thank you, scary grandma, for reminding me—again—of just how powerful you are.
“So…because I have all these colors, I have a lot of options for skills?”
“Possibly, but most classes don’t have this range. Given your tier, your Mark could just be immature. It isn’t common for your age, but neither is your level. It is likely some combination of the two, though,” she drummed her fingers on the table, “your class could be a root class, which just means many classes can branch off it.”
“Something like a [Warrior] or [Healer].”
“Exactly. However, even then, this is more than I would have expected. Maybe your unique background...null zone and Human? You are really lucky with this. A Mark this versatile will make your new equipment quite open to growth. Would you be open to providing more for study?”
When I shuddered at the thought, she just laughed. However, I had no doubt that she would not hesitate if I took her up on the offer.
Our conversation drifted into peaceful silence as we sat back and watched the remainder of the light show. The blue water faded to clear. Then, not long after, those strands lost their iridescence and started to dissolve, returning to a translucent blue”
“You’ll definitely have a mental focus.”
“Because it ended blue?“
“Yes, which is also not surprising given your Mark’s location.“
“So all that talk about a diversity of skills?”
“Still applies.” She picked up the glass and carried it to a table in the corner. “With this, we are done. At least for tonight. You’ll need to come back every few nights over the next week so that I can draw your blood.“
“How much do you need?”
“I won’t know until I start.”
I just nodded. Not that I had any other choice. “If I’m done, then I am going to see if there’s anything left for me to eat.“
“You didn’t have anything before you came?“
“No.“ Without meaning to, I let some of my anger at my assault slip out.
She gave me a sad smile. “It has to be hard being the only Human here.“
“Yes,“ I managed, taking a moment to choke back my tears. “It’s…been an adjustment.” I had never been bullied, much less almost beaten to death.
“You should know that despite how valuable this opportunity is to me, I still would not have done it if not for Dorian. He has clearly found another…project.” My eyes narrowed, but she continued undeterred. “One that I think will bear unexpected fruit. Still, you do not know what you ask by just existing here. Dorian is loyal to his friends, even if he makes them too easily. He also underestimates potential risks. His position here is strong yet tenuous. While you are clearly shouldering a heavy burden, it would be best if you shoulder it alone.“
Her words carried a hard edge. I stared at her, teeth clenched. Even if she didn’t know the exact details, she had a strong inkling of what I had experienced. The pain from my procedure had allowed me to forget the ache that still filled my body, but I would feel it tomorrow. I wanted to get angry, but in her eyes, I caught a subtle plea. Though she tried to hide it, a kind grandma lingered behind her hard facade—at least when it came to Dorian.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I stood up, debated, and then spoke my mind. “You know what? You could have just asked instead of threatening me. But don’t worry. I’ll watch out for him. He has been the only one here to actually give a damn about someone outside their clan or tribe. That alone is something worth protecting.”
I took it as a win that the pressure in the room didn’t increase as I turned around and walked through the door.
***
“Are you all right?” Dorian asked after I landed a heavy and awkward blow. Here at least, mining was about endurance and precision, and I had let my anger ruin my concentration.
“I’m fine. Just tired.” Of course, that was only partly true. Last night, I developed bouts of a hacking cough. A side effect of my “surgery?” Who knew?
However, even if the truth hovered on the tip of my tongue, I couldn’t bring myself to discuss it. Kyria Rhaptis’s words echoed in my head. He had done a lot—too much—already. When I got home after finishing with the [Tailor], a tray of food had been waiting for me. Only one person would have done that. As much as I appreciated it, he needed to stop before he got caught up in the politics. He was already on thin ice with the Verndari.
I went back to swinging. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get into a rhythm. The frustrations of yesterday kept distracting me, so I tried another tack: venting my pent-up bitterness and rage via the point of my pick. It worked until it didn’t.
I mistimed and overpowered a strike, and the tunnel wall exploded in a shower of stone. While I did manage to leave a large circle of cracks radiating out from the impact point, it came with a spray of shrapnel.
“Crap,” I muttered. Pinpricks of fire dotted my face and neck. What had I been thinking? Worse, I couldn’t pass it off as a valid mining technique. Unlike my Ættarsk partner, I didn’t have the skill to channel the force. Instead, I just wasted Energy and made a mess.
Dorian put his shovel down and dusted off a few pebbles. “You really okay?”
“I….” What was I to say? Even a stranger would have known I was lying through my teeth.
Thankfully, he gave me an out. “Was it backlash for the essence enchantment? I have heard they hurt.”
I let out a long exhale. That excuse would do. “They do. A lot. I had nightmares about it. I think it weakened my imm—it just weakened me. I caught a pretty nasty cough, and that isn’t helping.”
He didn’t notice that I failed to answer his question. Instead, he apologized, “I hope you didn’t feel like I pushed into it. I promise you, it will be worth it. Her work is unrivaled. Have you tried a healing potion?”
I had. If anything, it made it worse, but that could have been a coincidence more than anything. It was late, and I’d been tired when I tried it. In a new place and with no natural immunity, I was ripe for illness. “Just a small amount. I might try again later.” I put my pickaxe down on the ground. ”I do appreciate all you have done. It is just so different from home. It is…hard.”
“I can’t imagine. Just let me know if I can help.”
More than you have done? That earnest smile was heartbreaking. Even if I looked it, I wasn’t young. I had seen firsthand how the world could chew up and spit out people like Dorian. Too many of my medical school friends had chosen high-paying specialties they hated to pay off the $300,000-plus loans they carried only to be burnt out by the job—not that it took loans to do that. Maybe he wouldn’t lose that cheer. Plenty didn’t, even if I wasn’t one of them.
“I will,” I lied. He shook his head, but he let the topic drop. Before he returned to work, I asked, “Actually, can we take lunch?”
“Yeah?”
“I am not at full strength, and I shouldn’t act like it. I should take a break.”
”Okay then.”
“How about eating in the main cave?”
He arched an eyebrow in question. Ættir started early and ate early. We typically missed each other during our lunch breaks, which worked well for Dorian. It had taken me a long time to realize that he avoided interactions with Ættir as much as possible. However, I had something to check, and his opinion on it would be valuable.
He followed my lead and took a seat at the tunnel’s edge. From here, we had a decent view of our company. I settled in, pulled out my hard tack, and took a bite. Nothing was redeeming about the texture or taste, but it did provide the calories we needed. It also gave me an excuse to confirm what I had noticed when I arrived this morning: most of our company hadn’t used their potions after yesterday’s fight.
I whispered my suspicions to Dorian.
He nodded. “They are likely conserving them.” That might be an understatement. Even from just this morning, many of the Ættir sported fresh bandages. I could even age the injuries because, for whatever reason, they didn’t change their bandages even when they became soiled. “At least it is for a good reason. It looks like they hit another load.” So he had noticed the new injuries as well. “They are far too aggressive.”
While new to mining, with the increasing number of injured Ættir, I couldn’t disagree. Life-debt or not, this rate of injuries seemed unsustainable. “How long before they get another resupply?”
“Can’t be too much longer. They will be on the top of the list with the hauls they are bringing in.”
”But…”
“Brewing them takes time and resources. I have heard that we are running low on the reagents. The Alfa should be due back soon, but until then, it will be hard to resupply an entire company.”
“So, I could help them.”
”You could, but it would be a waste of your time.”
“You think so?”
“Those greenskins would rather die than owe a debt.”
I let those words sink in. They would rather die?
For some reason, they hadn’t gone to a [Healer]. “With this many wounds, they’ll have to start using potion. They can’t keep this up—I give them a day, tops.”
Dorian just snorted.
***
Comments
Ruben B
Thank you for the chapter! 😄
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