MaeveMcCarthy
patreon
Chapter XLV
🕑 Added 2023-12-01 10:31:31 +0000 UTCThis is the longest chapter I've written so far. I wanted to keep the whole 'training montage' aspect as condensed as possible, with two chapters max for the before and after.
So, enjoy these 8.000 words!
Lily found the process of trading information with Brother Hadrian more taxing than she had anticipated. The meticulousness of the man, who insisted on documenting every fragment of their discussion in his translucent book, added a mind-boggling layer of tedium to their exchanges.
As she sat across from Hadrian, Lily pondered the nature of the information she’d shared. She wondered whether certain details should have been omitted for safety or simplicity. But she quickly dismissed these concerns, her reasoning being that in a world where the [Pope] could incinerate thousands with a mere gesture, the mention of firearms would scarcely raise an eyebrow.
At least that’s what she had expected—but the reality, instead, was even more surprising.
“The Court of Roses has a widespread use of this gunpowder of yours. And guns.”
“I didn’t know that,” Lily frowned.
“The Court of Roses is a big island whose inhabitants mostly sail to other, less developed countries. I imagine your [Teachers] wouldn’t care to teach you about how the adventuring noblemen sail around the world.”
“Oh, adventurers? Do they belong to some kind of an organization?” she inquired, her gaze locked into Hadrian with genuine curiosity.
“No,” Hadrian responded, his frown deepening.
Lily’s mind raced through the snippets of information she had gathered over the years about fantastic worlds, particularly during her babysitting days, which had been a means to earn some extra money. She vaguely recalled a mention of ‘adventurers’ being tasked with ‘clearing dungeons.’
“Who clears the Dungeons then?” she asked, the question emerging more from her curiosity than what they had been discussing previously.
Hadrian’s response was accompanied by another blank stare. “The military handles that.”
“Are there wild Dungeons that the military doesn’t clear? Who takes care of those?”
“There are a few,” Hadrian replied, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he dredged up memories. “There’s a low-level Dungeon nearby, teeming with Steeltusk Boars. If your father intends for you to stay here until your class manifests, it might be worth a visit. It’s unmanned, save for the occasional clearing by Marcus to prevent the beasts from overpopulating. It’s also the easiest source of meat around these parts.”
As Hadrian spoke, Lily clenched her fists. One could only enter the Dungeons after they had received a class—it was a rule enforced by the system for some unknown reason.
...
Hours later, the scene was the same.
Brother Hadrian, seated across from Lily, was engrossed in his unusual task. In his hands, he held a book unlike any other – translucent and shimmering with a subtle glow, its pages appeared more like sheets of thin, ethereal glass than paper.
As Lily spoke, recounting the details of her world, Hadrian’s quill danced across the translucent pages. The quill itself was peculiar, emitting a faint light as it moved, leaving behind a glowing script that slowly faded into a more subdued hue. The words seemed to be etched into the pages, though not with ink but rather with light itself.
His expression was one of intense concentration, his brows furrowed and his lips moving silently as he read back what he had written. Occasionally, he would pause, his eyes lifting to meet Lily’s as he sought clarification on a point or delved deeper into a topic, his quill temporarily stilling in his hand.
This went on for longer than Lily had initially anticipated.
...
Three exhausting days later, Brother Hadrian finally leaned back into his chair, stretching his arms with a groan that echoed through the quiet library. Across from him, Lily rubbed her eyes that were reddened from strain and fatigue. The constant exchange of knowledge had taken its toll on both.
“This is enough for now,” Hadrian announced, his voice a mix of weariness and satisfaction. He glanced at Lily, who looked equally drained. “You have provided an astonishing amount of information. It’s more than sufficient to trade for not one but three skills. My class has progressed more in these past three days than it has in the last three years, child.”
Lily, bristling at the term ‘child,’ snapped back with a tired edge to her voice, “You know I’m not a child.” Her exhaustion was evident, but so was her irritation with being underestimated.
Hadrian gave her a nod, an expression of newfound respect etching his features. “I know,” he conceded. “Even if you weren’t recognized as a great scholar in your world, the depth and breadth of our discussions have been truly enlightening. Such erudite conversations are a rarity in these parts.”
“I was a teacher,” Lily groaned, her voice heavy with fatigue, her patience for Hadrian’s antics wearing thin.
“Still not a scholar,” Hadrian quipped back, but the tone of his voice held a tinge of amusement.
“Whatever,” Lily muttered, rolling her eyes. She wanted to move past the banter. “So, about those three skills you mentioned?”
“Yes, indeed,” Hadrian said, his smugness giving way to seriousness. “Three skills in exchange for the wealth of knowledge you’ve shared and in exchange for more trades in the future. Also, I will offer you something else as well. I will personally tutor and train you in the basic skills you seem to lack.”
“Lack? Like what?” Lily asked, her curiosity piqued despite her tiredness.
“Your Mana-related skills are quite underdeveloped,” Hadrian pointed out. “I’m referring to [Mana Sense] and [Mana Shaping].”
Lily waited, expecting Hadrian to elaborate, but he simply looked at her with a smug expression, clearly enjoying the moment.
“I’ve never been more reminded of the spoiled students I used to teach back home than when I am talking to you,” she retorted, her tone laced with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
Even though Hadrian could be a real A-hole, she rather enjoyed his straightforward and honest manners. It was refreshing after spending so much time with the bureaucratic monsters back on Earth and the real monsters of the Church in this world.
Hadrian chuckled. “Now, now,” he said, “I’m sure that back in the Citadel, they hailed you a prodigy. Even the [Pope] must have pissed his pants from at seeing your talents—I can imagine the little sniveling rat slobbering at the idea of having yet another enslaved classer do his bidding. But, child, I have traveled far and wide and encountered various civilizations. I can assure you that the Papal State pales in comparison to the vastness of the world. If it weren’t for the persistent efforts of this continent and the better half of the southern one to eliminate my class, you would understand the true scale of things.”
Lily listened, her frustration giving way to a sense of awe and curiosity about the world Hadrian described.
“Now, regarding your training,” Hadrian continued, “I have a selection of training regimes from across the world that will give you an edge. You’ve already taken your first steps into Death Magic, which I have no objection to, as long as you refrain from necromancy—I find such practices distasteful.”
“I want to be a fighter,” Lily declared, her voice firm with determination.
“You aim to be a fighter and regain your Light Magic, among other things. Let’s focus on what’s achievable for now,” Hadrian said, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. “First of all, take a look at this.”
He gestured, and nine small, square projections in the form of cards appeared in the air between them. They were mostly translucent, with a bluish tinge, and each bore a word or two.
[Running]
[Mana Shaping]
[Boxing]
[Meditation]
[Death Touch]
[Seven Worlds of the Soul]
[Mana Sense]
[Divine Geometry]
[Mandala of Eradication]
“These are the foundational skills, or the prerequisites, that we shall work on,” Hadrian explained. “In addition to these, I’ll teach you three more skills, as promised. Now, observe this arrangement.”
With a wave of his hand, the projected cards shuffled and grouped themselves into new configurations:
[Running] + [Boxing]
[Mana Sense] + [Mana Shaping]
[Meditation] + [Seven Worlds of the Soul]
[Death Touch] + [Mandala of Eradication] + [Divine Geometry]
“We’ll group them more or less like this for training purposes. Then, we need to discuss your future class. We can’t afford to let you manifest random classes if you’re to achieve anything noteworthy in this world.”
“Hadrian,” Lily interrupted him, her tone serious. “What about my Light Magic?”
The [Librarian] sighed, his expression turning somber. “Light Magic is currently out of the question. We don’t know what exactly stripped you of it. We have suspicions about who might be responsible but not how they did it. My best guess, Liliana, is that your attempt at using the Book of the Dead took a toll on your soul. Light Magic is inherently linked to the concept of life, so the book might have stripped you of any life-related magic without directly harming your own life force. That you survived such an ordeal is nothing short of miraculous.”
“I’ve dedicated my life to studying Light Magic – ever since I was a child,” Lily said, her voice laced with passion and a hint of desperation. “I feel a natural affinity for healing, Hadrian. I want back what was mine, no matter the cost.”
Hadrian was about to respond with a snide remark, but the intensity in Lily’s deep blue eyes stopped him. He saw in her not just a stubborn child but the determination and conviction of someone who truly believed in their cause.
“I can’t turn back time,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. “If I could, I wouldn’t be hiding here. What I can offer you, though, is the power to defend yourself, to be free. Your knowledge could liberate entire continents, perhaps even the world,” he added, his hand caressing the translucent book before him. “But as for Light Magic, I’m sorry, Liliana Claudia. That’s beyond my power to restore.”
Lily exhaled deeply, a mix of frustration and resignation flowing through her. “I understand,” she said, though her voice betrayed her disappointment.
“However,” Hadrian continued, “even though I can’t restore your Light Magic, I can teach you how to heal yourself. Many fighters would kill for such an ability, and many have.”
“Heal myself? Without Light Magic?” Lily asked, her interest piqued.
“Yes,” Hadrian replied, standing up and retrieving four black scrolls with white ink from a shelf. “You’re not the only one to have utilized Death Magic in creative ways. These scrolls contain a skill that no one outside of the [Librarian] class can fully comprehend. But given your unique background, you might just have the necessary knowledge to unlock it.”
“And what skill would that be?” Lily inquired, her curiosity fully engaged.
“[Necrotic Restoration],” Hadrian revealed, handing the scrolls to her.
...
Lily’s head throbbed with a dull ache, the relentless influx of information from the past few days catching up to her. Hadrian, noticing her discomfort, let out a deep sigh, his tone shifting to one of introspection.
They had been discussing arrangements, possibilities, and the future of her class.
“[Librarians] were originally meant to be teachers,” he began, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet of the library. “Our class was conceived to stand alongside the great explorers, the chroniclers of history, and the discoverers of new knowledge. Our purpose was to ensure that such wisdom was not lost to time and that the brave souls who risked everything to delve into the many deep crevasses of our world were duly rewarded.”
Lily watched, her fatigue momentarily forgotten, as Hadrian moved gracefully around the library. With each book he touched, a translucent card materialized mid-air, hovering like a ghostly apparition. The cards shimmered with a soft glow and then began hovering around the magical part of the library that the [Librarian] had summoned again to avoid indiscreet ears from picking up their conversation.
“One of our most sacred duties, one we don’t trade or barter for, is to help those in search of guidance to find the class best suited for them,” Hadrian continued, his voice taking on a reverent tone. The air around him seemed to thrum with energy as more cards appeared.
“Every one of these,” he gestured to the floating cards, “represents a potential class.” He plucked one from the air and held it out for Lily to see. [Necrotic Fighter] read the card in bold, ethereal script.
“This class, unlocked through the mastery of [Necrotic Restoration], is tailored for those who thrive on endurance and resilience. It’s not known for its offensive power, but its users can outlast most in a slugging contest – a valuable trait in combat. However, you’d be at a disadvantage against more agile opponents, like rogues and powerful casters,” he explained, his eyes studying Lily’s reaction.
“I don’t like it,” Lily responded quickly, her instinctive reaction mirrored in her furrowed brow.
Hadrian wasn’t surprised. “I thought as much,” he said, allowing the card to dissolve into thin air. “Your physique, while lean, has potential for agility and speed. Let’s consider another option.”
He reached into the swirling mass of cards, selecting another and bringing it forward. [Wraith’s Shadow] hovered before Lily, its title shimmering with an eerie light.
“This is a rogue class built upon stealth and evasion. Mastering [Wraithform] to its second stage is a prerequisite. It’s demanding, but the rewards are substantial. You’d be a ghost on the battlefield, elusive and deadly. A perfect choice if you plan to challenge the Church or evade them entirely,” Hadrian explained, watching Lily closely.
Lily’s eyes narrowed as she considered the class. [Wraithform] was a movement skill—the second skill Hadrian had offered her after [Necrotic Restoration]. “It’s intriguing, but it doesn’t feel quite right for me,” she said after a moment, her voice firm.
Hadrian nodded, a look of understanding crossing his features. “It’s important that your class aligns with your instincts. So, tell me, Liliana, what do you envision for yourself? Which path calls to you?”
Lily paused, gathering her thoughts. “I’m thinking of something more versatile. Full-body combat, not limited to just boxing. I’d prefer bare hands or perhaps gauntlets. I’m quick, and I want to be effective against a wide range of opponents, even if it means not being exceptionally powerful against any one type.”
“A generalist,” Hadrian mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, I see where you’re going with this. Given your natural affinity for raw power – evidenced by the door whose lock you ruined with your skill, which I haven’t forgotten – you could decimate casters and rogues. And with [Necrotic Restoration], you’d bridge the gap between warriors and yourself. However, your approach would leave gaps in defense. You’d be vulnerable, easily taken down by most classes, except perhaps supports.”
Lily’s smile was tinged with determination. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Also, you haven’t mentioned the third skill you promised.”
Hadrian’s expression turned serious. “That’s because I’m still considering whether to set you on that path. It’s not a decision to be made lightly.” His gaze shifted back to the sea of cards floating around him, with some worry coloring his brow now. “Choosing a class is not just about gaining skills; it’s about defining your destiny. And that, Liliana, is something we must approach with utmost care.”
...
The Day Before
The day before he presented the girl with potential classes had been one of contemplation and solitude for Brother Hadrian. Alone in his study, he found himself deep in thought, pondering the future of the youngling who had unexpectedly become his… pupil. He recognized in her not just raw talent but a potential force capable of shaking the very foundations of the Church and possibly altering the course of history itself. He had promised her three skills, yet so far, only two seemed to align perfectly with her unique abilities and aspirations—at least as far as he knew.
Hadrian let out a heavy sigh, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Activating the skill that all the [Librarians] of level 180 and above possessed, he prepared himself to delve into the [Akashic Record]. This mystical tome was more than just a compendium of knowledge; it was a living entity, an ever-changing and evolving repository of all that the [Librarians] had learned and discovered. The skill was notoriously difficult to master, its contents vast and often cryptic, fluctuating with the ebbs and flows of the collective consciousness of its users.
The [Akashic Record] materialized before him, its translucent pages shimmering with an otherworldly light. Hadrian started consulting the arcane artifact, which did not come without risks. He had nearly lost his life the last time he had sought its guidance for the girl.
He paused, gathering his courage. The decision to consult the [Akashic Record] for insights into Lily’s future was not one he took lightly. He was acutely aware that meddling with forces beyond his understanding could have dire consequences. Yet, he knew that guiding the girl correctly was crucial, not just to liberate her destiny but for his own kind as well.
With a deep breath, Hadrian opened the book. A rush of energy surged from its pages, enveloping him in a whirlwind of whispers and visions. Images from past, present, and potential futures flickered before his eyes, each a thread in the intricate tapestry of time. The experience was overwhelming; the sheer magnitude of knowledge contained within the [Akashic Record] was enough to consume even the most disciplined of minds.
Hadrian focused, sifting through the torrent of information, seeking the knowledge he needed. Amongst the chaos of possibilities, he searched for a skill that would not only complement Lily’s existing talents but also set her on a path that would maximize her potential. His eyes scanned the pages frantically.
As he delved deeper, Hadrian became aware of an ancient energy, a presence that seemed to watch him from within the depths of the record. It was then that he felt it—a subtle tug at the edge of his consciousness, a pull that beckoned him deeper into the labyrinth of knowledge.
The sensation was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was as if the [Akashic Record] itself was guiding him, leading him to a revelation that lay hidden in its deepest recesses. Hadrian yielded to this pull, his curiosity overpowering any fear. The pages before him blurred, the words dancing and coalescing into new forms, revealing pathways and sections that he had never known existed within the tome.
As he reached out, the energy that he had sensed earlier enveloped him now. It was ancient and primal yet filled with a transcendental quality. At that moment, Hadrian felt as though he was standing at the threshold of a profound truth, one that had been waiting for him to uncover it.
And right before his eyes, the elusive knowledge had materialized. It was a skill, radiant and resplendent, emerging from the depths of the [Akashic Record] like a star being born from the cosmos. It resonated with a frequency that matched Lily’s unique soul—a perfect alignment.
“This…” He muttered inside the formless depths of the tome. “She really touched upon it.”
Hadrian, awestruck, realized the enormity of what he had discovered. This skill was the key that would unlock Lily’s true potential.
Closing the [Akashic Record], Hadrian was left in a state of profound contemplation. He knew that introducing this skill to Lily would change everything. It had the making of the dawn of a new era.
However, if meddling with the God of Afterlife had almost killed him, then this could very well completely erase his existence from reality.
...
Back to the Present
Lily regarded Brother Hadrian with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “[Alchemic Constitution]? What’s special about that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
Hadrian leaned back into his chair, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as if he was trying to fully grasp the implications of what he was about to explain. “I didn’t choose this skill,” he said slowly, his voice carrying a note of seriousness. “It was selected by my class, not by me.”
Lily’s grimace deepened. “But didn’t your class choose the other two skills as well?” she queried, trying to understand the distinction Hadrian was making.
“Yes, but there’s a significant difference,” Hadrian clarified. “The other two skills, I’m familiar with. This one, however, emerged directly from the [Akashic Record] specifically for you.”
His revelation left Lily momentarily speechless. She had only a vague understanding of the [Akashic Record]. “That’s very unusual, isn’t it?” Lily finally said, a hint of awe in her voice.
“An understatement,” Hadrian replied with a nod. “The [Akashic Record] doesn’t typically intervene in such direct ways. It suggests that what you’re about to embark on is not only unique...”
Lily absorbed this information, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
“So, what do you know about alchemy from your world?” he asked.
“Alchemists were obsessed with immortality and turning lead into gold,” Lily shrugged. “That’s pretty much all I know. I’ve read things about some alchemical processes, but I don’t really know much else other than they made potions.”
“Alchemy and potion-making are two different disciplines,” Hadrian explained slowly. “But that’s almost all I know about it too. The [Akashic Record] has an entry about Alchemy, Liliana. The entry says…” Hadrian frowned as he cut himself off. “You haven’t traded enough knowledge, it seems.”
Hadrian leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “Let’s limit ourselves to what is knownin the world. Alchemy is more than just an ancient technology. It’s not just about transforming substances or crafting potions. True alchemy involves altering the very constitution of objects, beings, even the self.”
“As for [Alchemical Constitution],” he continued, “it’s a skill that, to my knowledge, enhances one’s physical and magical properties by tapping into alchemical principles. It could potentially change your very nature, making you more resilient, more… attuned.”
“Attuned to what?” Lily frowned.
“The connection between yourself and your soul,” Hadrian explained. “You were brought here in the body of a newborn. I must speculate that such a newborn did not have a soul. You most likely just filled an empty vessel.”
“Are you saying that the baby was born…”
“Dead,” Hadrian nodded. “Your soul and your body, therefore, might still not be fully melded together.”
Lily sat quietly, absorbing his words. The idea that she could undergo such a transformation was both daunting and thrilling. “So, this skill could change me? Make me what? Stronger?”
“Possibly,” Hadrian said cautiously. “But the specifics are unclear. The [Akashic Record] hinted at its potential, but as with all things drawn from its greatest depths, the exact nature and effects are shrouded in mystery.”
It sounded like an opportunity. Yet, she couldn’t shake off the sense of unease.
“Sounds like we’re venturing into uncharted territory,” Lily said, a determined glint in her eyes.
“Indeed, we are,” Hadrian replied.
...
The first rays of dawn filtered through the dense canopy of the forest, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow over the training grounds.
Lily stood in a small clearing. Brother Hadrian observed from the edge, arms folded.
“We start with the physical,” he declared, his voice carrying through the crisp morning air. “Punching dummies and jogging won’t suffice. You need comprehensive conditioning to enhance both strength and agility.”
Lily nodded, bracing herself for the regimen Hadrian had in store. The first task was a series of sprints on the unsteady terrain, making it terribly hard not to step on roots. She burst forward, pushing her limits, but each sprint had her pushing away from trees that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. This saw her endurance waning more rapidly than she’d anticipated. Within minutes, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her legs felt like lead.
[*Ding!* Running level 24!]
Without a pause, Hadrian shifted to the next exercise. “Simple push-ups. Now. Keep your form strict,” he instructed. Lily complied, her arms trembling as she lowered and raised her body.
There was little respite. Hadrian, observing her struggle, called out the next challenge. “Now, dodge these,” he said as he began to hurl Mana projectiles at her. Lily attempted to weave and dodge, but her exhausted muscles betrayed her. The projectiles struck her repeatedly, each impact a burst of pain and light that sapped her remaining energy.
Despite the grueling nature of the training, Lily’s determination didn’t waver. She gritted her teeth, accepting each challenge with a silent, raging nod, her resolve unbroken even as her body screamed in protest.
I need this. I need the strength.
The torture she had gone through at the Papal Estate had been cruel but less painful than this version of training. Still, the big difference was that this time, she wasn’t hurting anyone to get stronger other than herself; and even hurting herself, in this case, was her choice.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, the training grounds took on a serene, almost ethereal quality. But for Lily, the beauty of the evening offered no respite from the rigor of her training. Brother Hadrian, ever the stern taskmaster, was ready with the day’s final lesson – a trial of her magical senses.
“You’ll need to sharpen your [Mana Sense],” Hadrian intoned, his voice cutting through the twilight. His hands moved in a precise, almost ritualistic manner, conjuring a series of glowing [Light Orbs]. They hovered for a moment, like will-o’-the-wisps, before darting at Lily.
With her vision obscured by a blindfold, the world around her had faded to darkness, leaving her to rely solely on her magical intuition. She steadied her breathing, trying to push past the fatigue that made her limbs heavy and her head swim. She focused, attuning herself to the subtle ebbs and flows of Mana in the air.
The first orb approached silently, a whisper of light and energy. Lily sensed its presence too late, and it brushed against her shoulder with a gentle, almost mocking touch. She bit back a sigh of frustration, mentally steeling herself for the next one.
As more orbs came at her, each collision made her more frustrated. She barely avoided any and, when she did, it was mostly pure luck. One grazed her hair, leaving a trail of tingling sensation that faded as quickly as it came. Another brushed against the back of her hand, its warmth fleeting but vivid on her skin.
Lily tried to imagine the orbs, to picture their luminescence behind the veil of her blindfold. She reached out with her senses, trying to feel the vibrations of their movements, the subtle disturbances they caused in the air. But her drained mind struggled to keep up, muddled by exhaustion and the relentless pace of the training.
Her anger mounted with each passing moment. The orbs seemed to taunt her, their elusive paths a constant reminder of her inadequacies. She felt a pang of helplessness, a sensation she loathed.
The training continued into the evening, and the forest turned into a play of shadows and twilight. Lily, her energy reserves depleted, gave her all until she couldn’t give any more. Eventually, overcome by exhaustion, she collapsed on the soft earth, the starry sky above spinning as her consciousness faded.
This first day of training, marked by relentless physical and magical drills, was a stark awakening to the challenges ahead.
As she lay there, unconscious under the stars, it was clear that even with Hadrian’s help, she might not be able to get the strength she really needed to avoid being a captive ever again in her life.
...
The following morning dawned with a muted light filtering through the windows of the library, where Lily and Brother Hadrian sat at a worn, wooden table. Lily, her eyes still showing signs of yesterday’s exhaustion, poured over the black scrolls laid out before her. The scrolls, inscribed with white ink that seemed to glow faintly, recited the now-familiar title “The Four Forms of Death.”
Hadrian watched her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. She had insisted she wanted to learn [Necrotic Restoration] as soon as possible and that she could, in fact, understand it better than anyone else thanks to her previous life’s experience.
“Child, it won’t be easy. You should temper your expectations,” he reminded her.
Lily nodded back.
Essentially, the scrolls were a compendium of the four stages of the Death Magic damage to one’s enemy. And each stage represented a layer of damage that had to be reabsorbed and transformed through the skill. Hadrian had called it lifesteal, something usually reserved for Blood Magic practitioners.
To be honest, up to that moment, Lily hadn’t even known that Blood Magic was a thing in this world.
Anyway, the scrolls spoke of the opposite aspects intertwined within Death Magic, a skill that resonated with her.
There were four Forms – the Form of Organs, the Blood Form, the Bone Form, and the Soul Form. It was only natural for her to think that anything other than the Soul Form was fully in her domain of expertise. But that’s where she soon found herself stumped.
‘The Form of Organs’ delved into the intricate balance of life forces within living beings. It described how Death Magic could be used to manipulate these forces and draw out vitality and redirect it instead of just snuffing it out—it almost sounded like a principle of thermodynamics: you cannot simply destroy vitality: it has to go somewhere.
The scroll’s text was highly symbolic and used metaphors, calling the heart the ‘drum of life’ and the lungs the ‘bellows of the soul.’ She was… lost. But there was one thing that excited her.
“Do you think mastering this skill could heal my soul? If I lost Light Magic as a result of some damage, couldn’t the skill heal that damage?”
Hadrian, leaning back in his chair, steepled his fingers, considering her question. “It’s a possibility,” he said cautiously.
Over the next three days, Lily immersed herself in the scrolls, but it all felt like her mind was stuck in the mud while trying to catch monkeys jumping in the trees. The texts were dense and often contradictory; she struggled to piece together the fragmented information and find a coherent path through the chaos of ideas.
The more she read, the more she realized how little she understood. The scrolls spoke in a language that was at once familiar and utterly alien.
Despite her best efforts, progress was slow. She could draw out diagrams and schemes or jot down notes and theories, but nothing seemed to help reach a prompt understanding of even the first of the four scrolls.
One evening, as the sun was setting and casting long shadows across the library, Lily sat back, feeling completely lost. The scrolls lay before her, their secrets still largely locked away.
...
Among the rest of the training, Hadrian had finally initiated her to [Wraithform]. If [Necrotic Restoration] would make it easier to last longer in battle, this skill was meant to make her both faster and hard to catch.
Brother Hadrian stood in the middle of the library, watching as Lily prepared her attempt at the skill.
Hadrian’s voice broke the silence, his words echoing in the vast chamber. “Concentration, Lily. You must channel Death Magic the way I’ve shown you. First, envision just your arm as a wraith’s, a being beyond the physical realm.”
Lily nodded, her eyes closing as she focused inward. She drew a deep breath, centering herself, feeling the cool stone beneath her bare feet – Hadrian had said it was important to use sensations to learn the skill. The subtle currents of air brushed against her exposed skin. In her mind’s eye, she saw the intricate network of dark Mana in her hand, a glowing lattice of energy that pulsed within her.
With a determined exhale, she opened her eyes and faced the wooden slab before her, propped up by two bricks. Her fist was poised, ready to hammer down, but this was no kung-fu movie. She needed her fist to go through the piece of wood.
Lily’s fist moved in a blur of motion, but as it made contact with the wood, pain shot through her hand.
“Dammit,” she hissed, holding her fist. “Can’t I go slower? Do I have to strike?”
Hadrian’s voice was patient but firm. “Liliana, your body must react to true strikes, not go slow as a crawl. Focus on the essence of the skill. It’s not just about the physical action. You must project your will, your very being, into the Mana.”
Lily looked at the man, exasperated. More and more, all she was hearing and reading was becoming too esoteric for her. Gritting her teeth against the throbbing in her hand, she raised her fist again, concentrating harder this time. She visualized her hand as a wraith’s, insubstantial and ghostly, passing through the wood as if it were mere mist.
Visualize the damn thing. Visualize the damn thing, she chanted silently in her mind.
Again, her fist struck the plate, and again, the jarring impact sent pain lancing up her arm. Frustration welled up inside her – a tide of disappointment and self-doubt. She had imagined it, felt the transformation in her mind, but the reality was unyielding.
Hadrian’s gaze was unwavering. “It’s not just about imagining. You must believe it. You must know that you are more than flesh and bone. Magic, in this world, girl, is much more than your atoms. You wield power that can never be fully comprehended. You are just a conduit for the shapeless forces—don’t act like you are trying to tame everything. Just go along with your sensations.”
...
The next day, Hadrian told her that perhaps they should start focusing on something that she had already accomplished. Lily had somehow managed to bring forth the same effects of the black, tar-like rain from her inner world in her [Death Touch]. Therefore, she should try and visualize a new mandala for it that reflected the destructive effects she could potentially apply to the skill. If she managed to do that, each of her fists would send waves of destructive power through her opponents, annihilating their flesh and bones.
She had already thought once about making her insight into a Mandala but, unlike the knowledge she had about the [Lesser Mandala of Eradication], the black rain was…
Fucking esoteric, she swore internally, feeling jittery as she tried reliving the feelings she had gone through when she had been swallowed by that corrosive substance. So, she tried to draw out a mandala on a piece of paper the [Librarian] had given her, trying to draw out all she knew about it. But the more she tried, the more she couldn’t even come up with the right shape. It all felt sluggish, slow, and unproductive.
Brother Hadrian watched from a shadowed corner, his presence a silent, supportive vigil. However, even the man was starting to worry. A week had gone by, and their progress had been abysmal. He knew just how fast this girl had gone through her Light Magic training from what she had told him. But now, she looked like this was something completely out of her element.
She is indeed best suited for Light Magic, the man thought. But this is what we’re working with…\
Lily’s experience with the black rain, a phenomenon as deadly as it was mystifying, had given her a glimpse into the potential of Death Magic, a potential that went far beyond destruction. She recalled the cold, pelting droplets that destroyed her projection.
She inhaled deeply and reached inward, tapping into the well of magic that flowed through her veins. The familiar, chilling touch of Death Magic responded.
She remembered the Mandala she had created to cure the [Librarian], the dark orchid that had been a rare triumph. But this was different; this Mandala needed to embody the essence of the black rain, to condense its formidable power into a tangible form.
With a slow exhale, she began. Her hands moved in intricate patterns, weaving through the air with deliberate grace. She envisioned the Mandala, its form taking shape in her mind’s eye—it was a complex array of geometric patterns, each line and curve a channel for the deadly energy she sought to control.
But…
As the minutes ticked by, Lily’s brow furrowed with concentration. The Mandala to control such a power was complex, far more complex than anything she had attempted before. The more she tapped into her skill, the less confident she felt about this. The patterns were intricate, a labyrinth of lines that seemed to shift and change the more she focused on them. It was like trying to hold onto smoke – elusive, intangible, and slipping through her fingers no matter how hard she tried to grasp it.
Sweat beaded on her forehead. The Mandala was starting to take shape, but it was incomplete, mere fragments of a whole that refused to come together. She could feel the power of the Death Magic pulsating at her fingertips, eager to be unleashed, but without the Mandala’s guidance, it was raw and uncontrolled and too slow to be called upon during a fight. And unless she wanted to only keep melting door locks, she needed to do much better than this.
As the hours passed, Lily’s movements grew more frantic, more desperate. The Mandala was missing pieces – a riddle that she couldn’t solve. Her initial confidence waned, giving way to frustration and doubt.
I can’t do it…
Finally, with a sigh of exhaustion, Lily lowered her hands. The glow around them faded, and the incomplete Mandala dissolved into the air like a dream upon waking. She stood there, shoulders slumped, her eyes staring blankly at all the sheets of paper with twisted, half-completed designs that had borne no fruit.
Hadrian stepped forward, and his hand rested gently on her shoulder. “It’s enough for tonight, girl,” he said softly.
...
This was to be the night they attempted the ritual for [Alchemic Constitution].
Hadrian’s expression was solemn, his usual jest absent. The weight of the moment was palpable even to Lily, who felt a mix of nervousness and excitement churning within her.
“Are you sure this could help with the rest?”
“A part of you might still be on Earth, child. This… this could solve our trouble.”
The man had asked what the God of the Afterlife had told her word-for-word. And something had greatly bothered him.
You’ll be induced to fully believe this reality, but nothing else of you will be altered. Those had been the God’s words.
He suspected that the seemingly innocuous wording that had appeared to be a way for her to experience this new world without reserves actually hid something much darker beneath it. This ritual was a chance to unlock more than the girl actually comprehended.
“The ritual we’re about to perform is delicate,” Hadrian began, his voice a low murmur in the stillness of the room. “It’s the kind of skill that requires a small ceremony and a connection between the giver and the receiver. That’s why I must be the one to conduct it. My role and our intertwined fate should be enough for this magic.”
Lily nodded. She trusted Hadrian despite his eccentricities and occasional harshness.
The ritual began with Hadrian instructing Lily to sit cross-legged on the floor, her palms facing upwards. He proceeded to draw an eight-figure around her with chalk, letting her rest in one of the two circles, humming a chant that sounded ancient and otherworldly. The circle glowed faintly, its light a pale blue that cast an ethereal glow on Lily’s face.
Hadrian then sat opposite her, in the other circle, and started to recite more incantations.
After several minutes, Hadrian’s voice ceased, and there was a moment of silence. He took a small, ornate knife and, with a solemn look, pricked his finger, allowing a drop of his blood to fall into the glowing eight-figure.
“Blood is the conduit,” Hadrian explained. “But it’s not just any blood that can initiate the [Alchemic Constitution]. It must be blood from someone who holds a significant place in the receiver’s life. Hopefully, this will be enough. We might have to talk to your father otherwise.”
Lily watched as Hadrian closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He began another series of chants, this one more forceful, more demanding. The air in the circle around Lily started to shimmer as if heat was rising from the ground. She felt a warmth spread through her body, starting at her core and radiating outwards.
It was an odd sensation – not unpleasant but intense. It was as if her body was being remade from the inside out, with every cell vibrating and being turned inside-out with a newfound energy. She could feel her senses sharpen, her mind clear, and strength build in her muscles that she had never felt before.
But then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped. The glow from the circle had faded, and the room fell back into its normal state. Hadrian opened his eyes, a look of confusion etched onto his face.
“It didn’t work,” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. “The ritual was correct, the incantations flawless, but maybe the blood…?”
...
Alone in her room, Lily sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed in meditation. The frustrations of the day weighed on her heavily, a constant reminder of her failures and limitations. The failed attempts to level up her skills, the unfulfilled potential of [Alchemic Constitution], and everything else seemed to converge into a storm of disappointment.
As she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts, a soft knock on the door jolted her back to reality. Sighing, she opened her eyes to see Marcus standing outside the door, a hesitant look on his face.
“Aurora,” Marcus said, “a letter has arrived for you. It’s from your father.”
Lily’s heart skipped a beat. This was the first letter from the man. She jumped down from the bed, ran up to the door, and took the letter from Marcus, her hands trembling slightly as she broke the seal.
Her father’s words flowed across the page.
To my Darling Aurora,
Your mother and I are still on the battlefield. The Necromonarchy has sent more higher-level warriors our way. We have received some reinforcements thanks to His Holiness’s third son getting engaged to [Princess] Ludmilla.
We’ll be safe, sweet child.
Your mother misses you dearly. She has come to regret your fight and hopes to see you again.
I have spoken with Marcus and been informed of your new routine at the monastery.
Whatever path you choose to go down, we’ll be with you.
Love,
Lucianus Claudius,
Adriana Claudia
The letter, no matter how short and potentially deceitful on her mother’s behalf, filled her with warmth. Tears welled up in Lily’s eyes as she read it again, each word a balm to her weary soul.
After staring at the piece of paper for a while, Lily wiped away her tears, a stronger resolve taking shape within her. It ignited something in her – a spark that had been smoldering under layers of self-doubt and uncertainty that had caked over her in the past week.
With renewed vigor, Lily returned to her bed.
[Meditation]
This time, her mind was clearer. She delved deeper into her inner world, resting atop the plateau on the black mountain. She was about to go to the same ridge where she’d visualized herself meditating every time before now when a bright light caught her eye.
She turned, her gaze drawn irresistibly upwards towards the mountain peak. High above, silhouetted against the brooding sky, there it was – the same enigmatic symbol that had once been her salvation in the face of the demon.
The Ouroboros.
Compelled by a force she could not understand, Lily scanned her surroundings. The wild wind whipped around her, tugging at her hair and clothes, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes were fixed on the daunting vertical rock face of the plateau. There was no path, no gentle slope to guide her ascent – only the harsh, unyielding climb.
Gathering her resolve, Lily approached the base of the cliff. Her hands found the first rough holds, her fingers gripping the cold stone. She started to climb. The rock was unforgiving, its sharp edges biting into her skin. With each heave upward, she felt the sting of minor cuts and the warm trickle of blood from her hands and feet. But she pressed on.
As she climbed higher, the wind grew more intense, howling like a banshee. It seemed to push against her. Lily’s muscles ached from the effort, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But the image of the Ouroboros beckoned her onward, a beacon at the summit of her arduous journey.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of struggle against both gravity and her own limitations, Lily reached the top. She pulled herself over the edge, collapsing onto the flat expanse of the plateau. For a moment, she lay there, catching her breath, feeling the solid earth beneath her and the relentless wind around her.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, her eyes immediately seeking out the symbol that had drawn her there. The Ouroboros was still there, levitating above the stone of the mountaintop.
Reaching out in her mind, Lily touched the Ouroboros. The connection was instant and overwhelming. A surge of energy, powerful and exhilarating, coursed through her. It was as though a dam had burst open within her soul.
…
In a distant tent, Lucianus Claudius was suddenly awakened by a mysterious notification in his mind. He knew instantly what it meant, and a large smile appeared on his face. Stirring his wife awake, he smiled, a look of profound relief and pride on his face.
She did it.
“Adriana,” he called.
“Mmm—what? Do you want to—”
“No, no. Our daughter needs help. I already explained it to you. It’s time.”
Adriana Claudia sat straight on the bed, looking at Lucianus with wide eyes and hesitating, her hands trembling slightly.
“Is this…”
“Yes,” Lucianus nodded. “She needs us.”
“But she…”
“She needs us. She needs her parents. Both of them.”
Taking a small knife, Lucianus cut into his palm, muttering a few ancient words under his breath. The blood that welled up from the cut shimmered with an ethereal light. Then, he gave the knife to Adriana, who paused for a few seconds before doing the same.
Lucianus slowly conjoined his palm with that of his wife, still chanting.
A victorious smile was painted over his face.
It worked. It damn worked.
…
Back in her room, Lily felt the change immediately. It was as if a door had been unlocked within her, revealing a path she had not seen before. The frustrations and failures of the past week quickly faded away.
She stood up, her body feeling transformed – stronger, more alive. She looked at her hands and then at the bedrock wall the monastery was carved out from. With a glint in her eyes, she clenched her fist and struck it with all her might. A cracking thud resounded through the room. To her amazement, as she unclenched her fist, her skin remained unharmed, and the stone had a tiny piece etched away as a result of her new strength.
[*Ding!* Skill – Alchemic Constitution acquired!]
[*Ding!* Skill – Alchemic Constitution level 1!]
A wide smile spread across Lily’s face.
And then, she felt something else.
Her mind felt… lighter.
She blinked a few times to make sure that everything was alright.
Then, a thought came out of nowhere, and she summoned a system prompt she had not called upon in ages.
[Race: Human]
[Age: 9]
[Time until System unlocks: 1095 days]
[Name: Liliana Claudia]
My name...
Comments
BAAAB The Blood God
Thanks for chapter !
phantom
Great chapter. I like long chapters like this as it feels a lot more satisfying to read. Cliffs keep readers around and build anticipation but pretty annoying when that anticipation has no reward. I can see your point about chapters not having set lengths.
