Ace_the_owl
patreon
Chapter 181. Rude Journalists
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 01:39:24 +0000 UTCBack on the grind!
This little pause was really beneficial, I can actually use my hands again now without wanting to cry, which is a pretty significant improvement, lol. I've been alternating between typing and dictation, and I've also set specific hours for writing to discipline myself. Turns out having a schedule helps. Who knew?
We'll get back to a better posting rhythm now, so you can expect more chapters in the coming days (M-W-F). Both for this story and The Gamble King as well.
I hope the chapter's enjoyable!
Adom stood there, watching.
Sam's back was to him. His shoulders were shaking. The rest of the family had crowded around the bed: Elena on one side, their father on the other. Celene was sitting up now, supported by pillows someone had shoved behind her. Probably Sam.
It was strange.
Adom had never actually known Sam's mother. He'd known of her, obviously. The condition. The fourteen years. The reason Sam got quiet sometimes, went distant in a way that was hard to pull him out of.
He'd seen her face before, but only recently. Last year, after Sam started working at the Magisterium and his father decided to relocate the family's merchant guild headquarters to Arkhos. They'd brought her with them. Adom had visited the medical facility once or twice with Sam, stood in the room while his friend sat beside the bed and talked to someone who couldn't hear him.
Eyes closed. Pale. Still.
That was the only version of Celene he'd ever seen.
And now she was awake.
It was like watching a painting come to life. Or maybe more like hearing about a character in a story for years—secondhand descriptions, moments Sam mentioned when he was sadder than usual—and then suddenly meeting them in person.
Her personality was already visible. Just from this. The way she touched Sam's face, cautious and wondering. The way her gaze moved between him and Elena, lingering on her daughter's face with an expression Adom couldn't quite name.
Elena had hesitated at first. Just for a second. Then she'd thrown herself forward, arms around her mother, and Celene had held her. Tightly. Like she was afraid Elena might disappear if she let go.
Celene's voice was still hoarse when she spoke again. Adom caught fragments.
"...you were so small..."
"...I'm sorry, I—"
"...your father's beard, what happened, did he give up—"
A weak joke. Her first words in fourteen years and she was already teasing her husband.
Sam's father laughed. It came out choked and broken, but it was a laugh.
Adom felt something warm settle in his chest.
He couldn't see Sam's face from here. Just his back, his shoulders, the way he was leaning forward like he wanted to be closer but didn't quite dare. But Adom could imagine it. Sam was probably smiling like an idiot right now. The kind of smile that made his whole face scrunch up, the one he only did when he was genuinely, overwhelmingly happy.
A hand grabbed his arm.
Adom blinked and looked down.
His mother was there, tugging him gently toward the door. Mia was already moving, stepping back from the bed.
"Let's give them some space," Maria said quietly.
Right. Of course.
This was a family moment. Private. Adom had no business standing here watching it like some kind of voyeur.
He turned toward the door.
And immediately remembered they were not, in fact, alone.
The hallway was still packed. Gus and Luna were at the front, positioned like sentries. Behind them, the crowd had swelled even larger. More faces Adom didn't recognize. More journalists. One of them had a notebook raised, quill moving frantically across the page.
Eren was there too, planted firmly in the doorway. He had one arm out, blocking a particularly aggressive-looking journalist—a human man with a press badge pinned to his coat—from pushing past.
"I said back up," Eren said flatly.
The journalist tried to duck under his arm.
Eren didn't move. The man bounced off him like he'd walked into a wall.
"Are you deaf?" Eren asked.
The journalist opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. He stepped back.
Adom, Maria, and Mia slipped out into the hallway.
The moment they did, the journalists swarmed.
"Excuse me! Healer mage, can you comment on—"
"—unprecedented results, what does this mean for—"
"—young man, are you the one who enhanced the potion? Can you explain the process—"
"—long-term effects, have you considered—"
"—revolutionize the field of alchemical healing, do you think—"
They were everywhere. Closing in from all sides. Notebooks raised. Quills scratching. One woman had a recording crystal held up near Adom's face, close enough that it was practically touching his nose.
He pulled back slightly. She moved forward, keeping the same distance. The crystal's surface was cool and smooth, and he could see his own reflection in it, distorted and strange.
He looked at the woman holding it. She had a perfect poker face. Completely neutral. He couldn't tell if she was oblivious to the fact that she was essentially shoving an object into his personal space, or if she was doing it on purpose to get a reaction.
Probably on purpose, he decided.
The crystal itself was Adom's design. Wangara manufactured them in bulk now. Cass sold them through her network, and the whole operation brought in good money. No complaints from anyone involved in the supply chain. The reporters loved them—compact, easy to use, reliable recording quality.
He'd been proud of that design when he'd finalized it.
Now, with one pressed against his face by a woman who either didn't understand boundaries or didn't care about them, he wondered if some of his inventions were mistakes. This seemed like evidence for that theory.
Maria's expression went cold. "Step back. Now."
They didn't.
Adom felt bodies pressing in. Someone's elbow jabbed his ribs. Another journalist was shouting a question directly at Mia, who looked like she was two seconds away from punching him. Which was saying something, considering Mia's reserved personality.
His friends were trying to help. Kim had wedged herself between Adom and a particularly pushy reporter. Damus was bodily shoving someone backward. Karion had Naia behind him, one arm out to keep her from getting crushed. Gus and Luna were still holding the doorway, keeping anyone from getting back into the room where Sam's family was.
But they couldn't use magic. That would be seen as... rude. Aggressive. The kind of thing that would make them look like the problem instead of the mob of people shoving recording crystals in their faces.
Adom stopped walking.
When he'd used his skill [Resonance] the last time with Bennu, he'd noticed something about his voice. It changed. Became deeper, resonant in a way that didn't feel quite natural. Otherworldly, maybe. Powerful. Like the sound was coming from somewhere else and just passing through him.
Maybe he could use that to his advantage and make them back off a little. A harmless prank, really, give them a scare, get some breathing room.
He activated [Resonance].
Warmth spread through his chest, down his arms, settling behind his ribs like a second heartbeat. His skin prickled. The air around him felt somewhat slightly heavier and denser.
Adom cleared his throat and immediately, there was a silence.
The journalists suddenly stumbled back. Not far—just a step or two—but their faces changed. Eyes went wide. The woman with the recording crystal lowered it slightly, staring at him.
Everyone was looking at him now.
The journalists, frozen mid-question. His friends, turned toward him with expressions ranging from curious to concerned. Even his mother had stopped trying to push through the crowd and was staring at him.
Complete attention. Total silence.
All those eyes on him.
Adom felt his stomach twist slightly.
This wasn't quite what he'd been going for. He'd wanted them to back off, give him space, maybe look a little spooked. Not... this. Whatever this was. They were staring at him like he'd just done something significant instead of clearing his throat.
He stood there, suddenly very aware of how awkward this had become.
More silence and staring.
Could they be hearing him differently than he heard himself? He'd used [Resonance] before, but never in front of people.
Maria's eyes were locked on his.
Her lips moved. No sound.
Adom had learned to read lips young. It was a survival skill, developed during childhood when she'd get embarrassed or angry about something he'd done in public but wasn't willing to chastise him where others could hear. She'd talk with her mouth, silently, and expect him to understand.
He understood now.
Your pupils have fire in them.
Oh.
He released [Resonance] immediately.
The warmth faded. The weight in the air lifted.
Everyone seemed to untense. He hadn't even noticed they'd been tense in the first place—shoulders tight, breathing shallow, like they'd all braced themselves without meaning to.
He cleared his throat again. Normal this time.
"Sorry about that," he said. "It was... getting chaotic. Thought I'd get your attention."
The crowd was still watching him. Silent. Expectant. Like the tension from a moment ago had never existed.
Should he... say something?
But what?
The woman with the recording crystal—the one who'd been shoving it in his face—stepped forward. Her poker face was gone. She looked polite now. Almost deferential.
"Magus Sylla," she said. "What does this discovery mean? For the world?"
Adom looked at her.
The world.
Yeah. That had been the goal all along, hadn't it? The world. How to save it. How to fix the things that were broken, prevent the things that would break in the future if left alone.
This—what had just happened in that room—was part of it. A small part in the grand scheme of things, maybe, but still part of why he'd come back at all. It wasn't just about the big catastrophes or the wars he knew were coming. It was about moments like this too.
A woman, fourteen years asleep. A case everyone had given up on, including some of the best healers in the known world. And now she was awake, sitting up in bed, holding her son and daughter and teasing her husband about his greying beard like no time had passed at all.
People needed to see things like that. Not just the destruction magic could cause—the wars, the catastrophes, the chaos he knew was coming whether anyone was ready for it or not—but the other side of it too. The hope.
He took a breath.
What he was about to say would probably be remembered. That felt pretentious to think, but the evidence was right in front of him—a dozen journalists with quills poised, recording crystals raised, all waiting for him to explain what had just happened. They'd write this down. Print it. Distribute it across the kingdom and beyond.
And Adom knew what was coming. Not tomorrow or next month, but in the years ahead. Wars that would tear the continent apart. Catastrophes like the World Dungeon that would make people desperate for answers, for someone to blame. Mages always made convenient scapegoats. He'd watched it happen once already, seen the fear and suspicion grow until even the most benign magic user couldn't walk down a street without people crossing to the other side.
If he had a chance now—while people were still watching a miracle instead of a disaster—to shape how they thought about magic and the people who wielded it, he should probably take it.
In the days and years ahead, people would need to have faith in mages. They'd need to see them not just as agents of destruction or walking weapons, but as people who could actually make things better when given the chance.
He should say something that mattered.
"I think," he said slowly, "it means we're not done yet. Any of us."
The quills started moving again. Scratching across paper, recording his words.
What else? He wasn't particularly good at this—speeches, public statements, whatever this was turning into. But the journalists were waiting, staring at him with that focused intensity that meant they were going to write down whatever came out of his mouth next.
He kept going.
"I know magic gets a reputation. Sometimes it's deserved, people see what it can destroy, and they're right to be cautious about it." His hand moved toward the door behind him, then stopped halfway. The gesture felt awkward, so he let his arm drop. "But that's not all it is, and I think we forget that sometimes. What happened in there—" He tilted his head back toward the room where Sam's family was. "That's what magic can do when people work together. When they're willing to try something new, take a risk, push past what's supposed to be possible."
One of the journalists in the front row was nodding. Another had her quill moving so fast it was practically a blur.
Adom looked at them. At his friends standing around him—Damus had his arms crossed, expression unreadable; Kim was watching him with something that might've been approval; Eren looked vaguely annoyed, probably because he was still holding back two journalists who kept trying to push forward. At his mother, who was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
He searched for the next words.
"I'm not going to stand here and tell you we're heroes," he said finally. "We're not. We're just people who know how to do a few things, and we're trying to do them well." That sounded weak. He pushed forward anyway. "But I will tell you this, there are a lot of us. Mages, I mean. Healers, alchemists, druids. People who've spent their lives learning how to make things better, safer, stronger. And we're not going to stop."
The scratching got faster. He could see the journalists leaning in, hanging on his words. The woman with the recording crystal had moved it closer again, not quite touching his face this time, but close enough that he could see the faint glow of the activation rune on its side.
How to finish this?
"The world's got problems," he continued, buying himself time to think. "Big ones. Some of them are coming whether we're ready or not."
A few of the journalists exchanged glances at that. Probably wondering if he meant something specific.
He did, but he wasn't about to explain it.
"But if we can solve the small ones—" He paused, reconsidered. "The things that seem hopeless. The cases everyone's given up on, like the woman in that room. If we can do that, then maybe we'll be ready for the big ones when they arrive. Maybe we'll have built enough trust, enough skill, enough proof that magic isn't just a tool for war or power."
What was the word he wanted?
"It's a tool for fixing things," he said. "For healing. For making life better."
That was close enough.
He paused, trying to find the right words to end this. The silence stretched. Someone coughed. A quill kept scratching.
"So that's what it means," he said finally. "It means we're going to keep trying. And we'd appreciate it if you'd trust us to do that."
Silence again.
It was different this time. Quiet. Thoughtful, maybe. Or maybe they were waiting to see if he'd say more.
He didn't have more.
His mother's hand found his arm. Her fingers squeezed once, firm and grounding. Her lips curved slightly.
Good job, she mouthed.
Adom let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Then the moment shattered.
"Magus Sylla!" someone shouted from the back of the crowd. "Do you think you'll be the next Archmage?"
Well, that was unexpected.
Another voice, closer: "What about the Magisterium, will they recognize this breakthrough as a new field of study in runicology and healing?"
"Are you planning to establish a new school of magical theory?"
"How old are you exactly? There are rumors you're younger than the official reports!"
"Is it true you've developed seventeen new artifacts in the last year alone?"
Adom closed his eyes.
Should've seen that coming.
Comments
A D
^^ this and many alternative therapies have shown great effectiveness (depending on the legality of the country you live in ofc).
Jacob Oswalt
Is the pain in your hands muscular tension or tendons trapping nerves? You can soak your limbs in an Epsom salt soak to help the muscles relax more as you stretch them to help more with making sure you never have to feel that pain again! Oh and nerve flossing. Stay safe and take care, thanks for another great chapter!
KurichAlera
Thanks Ace! I’m glad your hands are better! What a great chapter! I would gladly wait for you to heal and take a break. Don’t run yourself into the ground! That’s no bueno.
