M.S. Davidson
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24. Cyrus
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 16:05:02 +0000 UTC"What do you mean, they're all booked out?" Cassie demanded, her voice carrying an edge. "It's the day after a fucking monster attack!"
"I'm sorry, Lady Cassandra." The small Albinus Vildar behind the counter had gentle eyes that didn't quite match the apologetic wince crossing his features. This had to be Cyrus—his long brown duster was practically a mobile toolkit, bristling with writing implements, magnifying glasses, and what looked like at least three different measuring devices. "Several circumstances beyond my control, I'm afraid."
"Well, what do you have?" Cassie asked, scanning the cramped interior like she was planning an invasion.
The shop felt more like a bibliophile's fever dream than an actual business. Books climbed every available surface from floor to ceiling in towering, precarious stacks that reminded me of the used bookstore section at a chaotic flea market. The air hung thick with the musty sweetness of old paper and binding glue.
"Well, your mother's reading room is available, but—"
"Nope!" Cassie cut him off so fast I almost felt sorry for the guy. "Just a regular room, please."
"I'm truly sorry," Cyrus repeated, wringing his hands. "Several Arcanists led by Seeker Dorian came in not too long ago and booked them all out… for three days. I can write you in for when they're available again."
I swear I watched Cassie's left eye develop a microscopic twitch.
"Fine." The word came out flat as roadkill. She thrust a small leather pouch at me—it jingled with the promising weight of actual money. "This is your cut from the crabs you brought in for processing. Pearls make a lot of coins, so Arcanists convert them into smaller pieces for powering techno-magic."
"And creating potions, pills, and other wonderful consumables!" Cyrus's entire demeanor shifted like someone had flipped a switch, his voice jumping from apologetic to full-blown infomercial host. "Of which we have many! Please, esteemed customers, right this way."
The transformation was honestly impressive—like watching a customer service ninja in action.
If I couldn't get information, at least I could score some healing supplies. And potions. Did they actually have magical potions here?
Cyrus practically bounced through his maze of bookshelves, hopping onto counters with surprising agility to maintain eye contact as he led us deeper into the shop. Eventually, we arrived at an alcove that felt like stepping into an alchemist's wet dream. Glass counters gleamed under soft lighting, displaying an array of contraptions that belonged somewhere between a medieval apothecary and a mad scientist's lab.
The scents hit me immediately—rich, earthy aromatics spread across wooden trays. Sage and cinnamon mingled with the warm bite of cardamom. A thick, gnarled root that screamed ginseng sat next to a bowl of dried lavender, while an open tin of cloves added its sharp sweetness to the mix.
My stomach gave a traitorous rumble. Throw in some curry leaves and I could make a killer chicken dish. Did they even have chicken in this world?
"Now, venerable customers," Cyrus began, rubbing his hands together with entrepreneurial glee, "what can old Cyrus craft for you today? Perhaps some healing pills or potions? Meditation oils? Or maybe some endurance decoctions for those longer expeditions?"
"What's the difference between a healing pill and a potion?" I asked.
Cyrus gave me a look that suggested it was a well-known fact I had just asked about.
"Cyrus, this is Acolyte Ben Crawford—the Breaker," Cassie said with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "He's actually Unbidden, so help him out."
"The Brine Tyrant slayer is Unbidden?" Cyrus let out a low whistle that somehow conveyed both surprise and dollar signs. "Welcome to our world, young man! Here—"
The Vildar stepped carefully through his ingredient display like he was navigating a minefield, then dropped behind the counter to rummage through a series of drawers. He emerged with a small wooden box, beckoning me closer.
Inside, tiny vials no bigger than perfume samples gleamed like liquid amber, each filled with a slightly yellow oil that caught the light.
"Please take one—the finest Class-E healing potions I have, made from genuine Winters ginseng." His voice carried the pride of a craftsman showing off his masterpiece. "A pill might suppress your mana flow temporarily, but potions work with it. You'll want to be careful not to drink one if your body's running low on mana after a fight. Usually, potions are for mid-combat when you have energy to spare. You can have that one, but these beauties are two red coins each. Pills run one red apiece."
"Healing potions use your mana but work way faster than pills," Cassie explained, then added with something that almost sounded like embarrassment, "My family owns a ginseng farm outside the city. Our healing products are why so many trading ships come to the island."
I peered into the pouch and counted a handful of red coins—each about quarter-sized compared to the dime-sized blue ones I'd seen before. Not exactly a fortune, but better than nothing.
"Okay, one potion and two pills, please?" I said, fishing out two red coins.
"Excellent choice. You can get lower-quality pills for cheaper, but there's nothing like Winters ginseng." Cyrus accepted the coins with a satisfied nod, then used delicate forceps to place two small white pills into a glass vial with the precision of a pharmacist. "Your family's reputation for quality is well-deserved, Lady Cassandra."
"Winters?" I asked, glancing between them. "Like Cassie's family?"
"My family are farmers," she said, and for once her voice held pure pride instead of its usual bite. "We have been for generations, even back in the Central Lands. We just happen to be very good at growing… valuable crops."
"Oh please, the Winters family are the richest bunch of assholes this side of the Azure Span." The voice dripped with aristocratic disdain from somewhere deeper in the store. "Too bad we took the last room."
All three of us turned to see a Gaian man in black robes emerging from between the bookshelves. I recognized him immediately—one of Dorian's crew from earlier today. Pale, with that stupid pageboy haircut that screamed "I peaked in magical prep school" and a kind of punchable face that probably got him in trouble regularly.
"Fuck you, Malcolm!" Cassie snarled, already tensing to move.
Malcolm. Problem solved.
I put a hand on Cassie's arm, feeling her muscles coiled like springs. Then I reached for Bravery, and the world shifted.
The rune flickered to life in my mind, and suddenly my awareness expanded and contracted simultaneously—broader in scope but laser-focused on Malcolm alone. His breathing quickened almost imperceptibly. His heartbeat followed suit, a rapid percussion I could somehow sense rather than hear. A single bead of sweat traced down his forehead as his eyes darted toward the door, then back to me.
Everything else faded into background noise. Cyrus's nervous shuffling, Cassie's frustrated breathing, the musty smell of old books—all of it dimmed to nothing. There was only Malcolm, and the crystal-clear understanding that despite his bravado, he was scared.
As I approached, he straightened his shoulders in a performance of confidence, but the Bravery rune in my mind saw right through it. His understanding of courage was hollow, performative—and true bravery found him wanting. Could this guy kick my ass in a straight fight? Probably. But standing this close, reading every micro-expression and nervous tell, I knew with absolute certainty he wouldn't even try.
I'd only used the rune this way once before, during the Carapax fight, and that had been pure survival instinct. Now I could see why I'd missed those other crabs creeping up the street—this level of focus came at a cost. The intensity was incredible, but it was like viewing the world through a telescope while wearing blinders.
I pulled out my last red coin and tossed it to him.
"Hey Malcolm, hopefully this helps pay for the reading rooms. Karma and all that." I released the focus, and my surroundings slammed back into focus like someone had just turned the volume back up on reality, my aura now thin and spread out. "Sorry we took your room in the tower. It was valuable time for me, so it's only fair I help you out in return."
The change in Malcolm was immediate and visible—like I'd just released the scruff of his shirt. His shoulders relaxed, his breathing slowed, and something that almost resembled a genuine smile crossed his face.
"I see," he said, pocketing the coin with a nod. "Congratulations on your breakthrough. Your aura is… impressive."
"Thanks." I clapped him on the shoulder, friendly but firm. "Now that we're square, can you do me a favor and apologize to Cassie? I'd owe you one."
Neither of us was a big guy, but sometimes size wasn't the point. Malcolm glanced around at the suddenly attentive audience, then shot a look at Cassie behind me. To his credit, he hesitated only for a moment before walking past me.
"My apologies, Lady Cassandra," he said with what sounded like actual sincerity, then made his exit through the double doors.
I turned back to find Cassie staring at me like I'd just performed a magic trick involving quantum physics and juggling.
"He's not that bad," I said with a shrug. "I could tell his heart wasn't in it. Now he might think twice about being a prick."
Cassie let out a snort of laughter. "Gaia's tits, Ben. What the hell was that?"
"Diplomacy?" I offered, then turned my attention back to the shopkeeper. "Now, Cyrus, let's talk about how much some of that cinnamon costs."
***
"You're supposed to haggle!" Cassie blurted out the moment we stepped back onto the street. "Never pay full price unless you absolutely have to. Do humans not do that?"
"What can I say? He smiled, and I…" I shrugged, holding up my new pouches of 'alchemical' reagents. "Caved."
The small cloth bags held cinnamon, clove, and cardamom—scents that immediately transported me back to my mom's kitchen. She would've been mortified watching me pay Cyrus's asking price without even a token protest. I could practically hear her channeling my Aapo's voice: "If the person selling to you is smiling, they'll take less." My grandmother had always said it in Cantonese, usually while counting coins with the satisfied air of someone who'd just won a small but meaningful victory.
"Now I'm going to have to babysit you when you go shopping," Cassie muttered, leading me through streets that had shifted into the thick, muggy heat of afternoon. "Do you even know how to use these herbs? They smell like shit, by the way."
"You know, Diana wasn't wrong about Gaians and their sense of smell," I replied, earning myself a sharp look.
"I can smell your sweaty ass from here," she shot back. I glanced down at myself—I wasn't that sweaty.
"Uh-huh. You just don't appreciate complex aromas."
"Keep telling yourself that, Curtain-Guy."
I let out a happy sigh. "I'm honestly surprised you have the same spices as Earth. Wasn't expecting to find cinnamon in a magical world."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds our footsteps on cobblestone and the distant murmur of harbor activity. Cassie seemed to wrestle with something, her usual confident stride carrying an edge of uncertainty.
"Thanks," she said finally, the word coming out smaller than usual. "I get too angry at them. Dorian's been trying to goad me into a fight for a long time now."
"Well, at least you know Malcolm sucks less than Dorian," I said. "Besides, now I owe him a favor. I'm curious what he might ask for."
"Probably some shady shit."
"Nah, then I wouldn't do it. He knows it was offered in good faith."
Cassie shot me a sideways look. "I wouldn't be so sure."
The words hit me with the uncomfortable weight of truth. I had no idea how this world actually worked—I'd just assumed Malcolm understood the social contract I'd offered him. A small favor between acquaintances. But maybe apologizing wasn't small for someone like him. Maybe I'd just handed him leverage I couldn't afford to give.
"Wanna take a shortcut to Katie's?" Cassie asked, her tone shifting back to something more familiar. "Could use some exercise."
"As long as you don't speed off into the sunset without me," I laughed, tucking the herb pouches securely into my vest.
I fixed her with the sternest glare I could muster.
"I'll go slow," she said with a grin that should've been my first warning.
Then she exploded into a dead sprint up the street.
"What the fuck!" I shouted, scrambling after her. "I'm not even wearing shoes!"
Calling Cassie fast was like calling the ocean damp. She didn't just run—she flowed through the urban landscape like water finding the path of least resistance. Vaulting over carts, weaving between startled pedestrians, scaling walls to cut corners that shouldn't have been cuttable. People stopped to stare, vendors leaning out of their stalls with expressions of pure wonder. A few children pointed and cheered as she passed, her movements carrying the fluid grace of someone who'd turned the entire city into her personal playground.
I reached for Bravery, feeling the rune flicker to life in my mind with crystalline clarity. This time, instead of the laser focus I'd used on Malcolm, I kept it controlled—my awareness expanding in a manageable sphere about ten meters in every direction. The sensation was still strange, like developing a sense I'd never known I was missing, but the controlled scope made it far less overwhelming.
Cassie darted into what looked like a dead-end alley, then practically ran up the wall to grab a ladder hanging impossibly high from one building.
"Meet you at the top!" she called, already hauling herself upward with casual efficiency.
I sighed, spotting a stack of crates against the back wall. They looked sturdy enough to get me to the opposite roof—assuming I didn't break my neck.
Holding the Bravery rune felt effortless, like flexing a muscle that had always been there. But as I approached the wall, I felt something shift. Mana surged through my legs, not from the rune itself but in response to it—like my body was learning to channel energy where I needed it most. I kicked off the back wall in a spinning leap, feeling the impact resonate through my knee even as supernatural reinforcement absorbed most of the shock.
The boxes held my weight as I scrambled onto the wall dividing the alley, discovering another narrow passage on the other side. The layout struck me as odd—walls placed seemingly at random, creating a maze that felt designed to confuse rather than facilitate movement.
I ran along the wall's edge, nearly losing my balance when loose bricks shifted under my feet. For a terrifying moment, I felt myself tilting toward a nasty fall—then energy pulsed through my soles, and suddenly my feet stuck to the stone like invisible magnets, pulling me back to safety.
That was definitely new.
I climbed onto the roof just as Cassie neared the top of the taller building across from me. The gap between us yawned like a canyon—nearly ten meters of empty air over a very unforgiving alley.
Stop being a pansy and jump!
I froze. That thought definitely wasn't mine, and it sure as hell wasn't Ted's voice echoing in my head. The words carried a reckless confidence that felt foreign yet familiar, like someone else's courage bleeding into my thoughts. The Bravery rune. It had to be—after all, this was Bravery magic, and apparently it came with its own commentary track.
"That's an absolutely terrible idea," I muttered, but the rune blazed brighter in my mind, drowning out my very reasonable objections.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was running. My heart slammed against my ribs as mana surged through my legs like liquid fire. The sensation was overwhelming—every muscle fiber supercharged beyond human limits. I hit the edge of the roof and launched myself into space, and for a split second, I felt like I'd been shot from a catapult.
"No, no, no! Fuuuuck!" The words tore out of my throat as I sailed through the air, arms windmilling uselessly.
I'd aimed for the ladder but overshot it by a country mile, crashing onto the flat stone roof with bone-jarring force. The impact sent me skidding across the surface like I was made of ice instead of flesh and bone, stone scraping against every exposed inch of skin. My ribs screamed in protest, my legs burned like I'd torn every muscle fiber, and the Bravery rune flickered out of my mind as pain took center stage.
"Ow," I groaned, rolling onto my back and clutching ribs that felt like they'd been used for drum practice. Everything hurt, specifically suggesting I'd done something magnificently stupid.
"Ben! That was awes—oh shit, are you alright?" Cassie finished her much more sensible climb and rushed over, excitement rapidly shifting to concern. "I figured you'd find a way up, but damn. Maybe don't lean so hard on your Bravery spell. It seems a bit… unstable."
"A bit?" I wheezed, struggling to sit up. "How the hell did I do that? I'm pretty sure I just broke every long jump record on Earth."
"I told you—mana can make you more resilient." She crouched beside me, wincing at the road rash painting my arms. "Remember the brick wall thing?"
Maybe mana really did make me stronger. It definitely pushed way past normal human limits. Moving the energy around felt effortless, like flexing a muscle that could change size at will. But actually using it? That was a different story entirely.
"Might be a good time to try that potion," Cassie said, settling down beside my mangled form. "Brace yourself, though."
I fumbled the tiny vial from my vest pocket, hands shaking slightly as I popped the cork. The liquid inside looked innocent enough—amber-gold like honey.
I tipped it back and immediately regretted every life choice that had led to this moment.
The bitterness hit like a physical assault, sharp as quinine mixed with liquid dirt and something that might have been cinnamon—there only to make it taste less shitty. My entire mouth puckered in revolt, but before I could even properly gag, the actual show started.
A pulse of energy exploded through my mana pathways, and I felt my reserves plummet like someone had pulled the drain plug on a bathtub. My muscles locked up involuntarily as warmth spread through my body—not the gentle heat of a heating pad, but something that felt like my blood had been replaced with liquid sunshine. For several seconds, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but sit there and let the magic work.
Then it faded, leaving me gasping.
"Holy shit," I breathed, poking experimentally at ribs that no longer felt like broken glass. The scrapes on my face were still bleeding, but underneath the blood, smooth skin had replaced the raw wounds. "That's incredible."
“Normal healing potions aren’t nearly as awesome; that’s why people want our crops,” Cassie flicked her thick braid over her shoulder with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I got carried away—was running like you'd arrived off a boat instead of through a portal. I'm too competitive for my own good."
Sitting up fully, I tested my newly healed body. Most of the external damage had vanished, leaving only minor scrapes that looked days old instead of minutes.
"That's a pretty roundabout way to admit I beat you to the roof," I said with the smuggest grin I could muster.
Cassie snorted out a laugh despite herself. "Asshole. I'm trying to be sincere here. I didn't think you'd have to push yourself that hard to keep up."
"But?"
"But you beat me to the roof," she admitted through gritted teeth, her smile razor-sharp with fake sweetness. "Even though you totally cheated."
I flexed my legs experimentally. They ached like the day after an Olympic workout, but they were functional. Apparently, I could now jump over ten meters. That seemed like something that should come with a manual.
Standing took more effort than I cared to admit, but I managed it without falling over again. The healing potion was miraculous, even if it had drained most of my mana reserves. Still, trading energy for instant healing felt like a pretty good deal.
From this vantage point, the true scale of the city revealed itself, and I nearly staggered backward. La-Roc stretched to the horizon in every direction, a sprawling maze of stone and timber radiating out from the central citadel like ripples in a pond. In the distance, a solitary mountain pierced the skyline, its snow-capped peak catching the afternoon sun like a beacon. Even the clouds looked wrong—towering formations that dwarfed anything I'd ever seen on Earth.
Just how big was this world for us to be on an island that could stretch past the horizon and hold a mountain?
"You good?" Cassie asked, joining me at the roof's edge.
"About as good as someone who just discovered he can nearly fly," I replied, still staring at the impossible vista. "This world keeps getting bigger."
"Just wait until we get to the harbor," Cass said, her grin turning absolutely wicked. "You're gonna shit your pants."
