David kept pulling in mana, pushing it back to his inner space, not letting a single drop up top. The air above the sea became hazy, distorted as if from heat plumes. The water began churning, and then bubbling.

  Little puffs of blue fire escaped from the bursting bubbles. Soon, blue wisps floated in the air. Leviathan squirmed, contorting, his whole body uncomfortable, pushed within himself.

  But he remained silent. It wasn't exactly pain. Or maybe it was. He didn't have a frame of reference...

  David kept at it, filling the space more, and more, and more. What was air was becoming thick, like a fog you could cup in your hands, bursting into flames at random.

  And then he hit a wall. It felt as if he'd pulled in all the mana he could. The pot was overfull, and he was struggling to keep the lid on.

  He took a deep breath, pooling his strength.

  He reached a spiritual hand down into his pool of mana, fishing around for something to grab onto. His ghostly fingers brushed against a mass, felt like a bundle of strands, like a plug.

  He grabbed onto it, tugged a little. It resisted.

  He frowned, tensed his spirit, and pulled.

  The plug didn't want to move.

  He didn't give it a choice.

  He put everything in that moment, that single instant, his entire focus on this one single point. He screamed, and pulled.

  The plug gave. A torrent of mana poured into his inner world. He felt heaven and earth buckle at the pressure, like a balloon wanting to burst but not yet decided on which side to do so.

  And then the bread slices that were the physical and aetheric world refused to burst, and pushed back.

  The ambient mana compressed. It had nowhere to go, except within itself.

  A solid bead flashed into existence, just to break a fraction of a second later.

  The mana conflagrated, an unstoppable wave of fire burst forth from where mana had broken.

  David's world became white, as his existence was vaporized out of the in-between.

  SANCTUARY

  Almeniris stared at the whited-out display, the result of... “What? What did he do?” She murmured.

  “Something incredibly stupid.” A voice next to her said. Koltos.

  She turned her head, seeing the god's blank face, riveted on the display, on which colours slowly returned, showing a great blue mushroom cloud rising above the mana sea.

  “What happened?” She asked.

  He glanced at her. “He broke mana.” He said matter-of-factly.

  She rolled her eyes. “Ok, sure, I got that, but what does it mean?”

  “It means he... took what should have been a gradual, controlled process, where one slowly and carefully mixes their mana with your aspect, until it becomes a part of you, just like a limb, and he did none of that.” He spat, throwing his hands, stomping toward the display and pointing at it.

  “Instead, he shoved mana into the in-between, the only place that mana can naturally have a physical form, and filled it so quickly and ruthlessly that it... collapsed! It broke! Inwards! He managed to destroy mana through sheer stupid power! That muscle-brained transient brute forced his way through a fundamental!” He shouted at the display, holding it with both hands and trying to shake it loose.

  Almeniris blinked as the normally affable god lost his temper.

  “Aaand... what does this mean?”

  He stopped, froze, and spun in place, looking at her before rapidly stomping up to her face. “It means...” He remained, mouth ready for his next word, which never came. He closed it, straightened himself and grabbed his chin, thinking.

  “It means... in that brief instant, when he broke a law of existence, anything could have happened. I wonder...” Koltos turned and snapped at the display, its point of view switching from the churning mana sea to a... wall of dark blue scales.

  “...What?” They asked in unison.

  Lord Torsteel's study

  The mansion shook, as if a sudden earthquake had struck, or something had exploded. When nothing else happened, he bolted to his feet and barged into the hallway, locking his sight on one of the staff, who was looking around wild-eyed.

  “You!” Torsteel barked.

  “Ah! Y-yes, my Lord!” The servant stood at attention.

  “What happened?!”

  “I- I don't know, my Lord! I will go find out!” The man shouted back, turning toward the main hall.

  Torsteel let the fool go and turned the other way, heading for the attic. Griff met him along the way, his expression making it clear he had no more of a clue than Torsteel did.

  “Griff, go down to the cellar, see if our guest did something. Bring some guards with you. Meet me in the attic.”

  The man-at-arms nodded and took another passage.

  Torsteel groaned. These two had better be worth the trouble.

  Once he got his potion, he'd make sure to get rid of them in the way most useful to him. The boy had shown he couldn't be controlled. Better brain him and leave him a vegetable, to serve as a mana battery. The girl... it would be a shame to lose a skilled alchemist, but he couldn't allow the potion to be replicated.

  Yes. That was the best way forward.

  He just needed that potion done before these fools brought the mansion down on his head.

  David awoke with a jolt.

  Or, he would have, but he was being crushed by something fleshy and heavy, a little damp and sticky. No light reached his eyes, ensconced within this substance as he was. No oxygen, either. He tried to push at it, move in any way he could. Nothing gave. He might have started to panic just a little.

  The flesh shivered and squirmed, sliding on itself, coiling... relieving some of the pressure on his body, allowing a tiny amount of air to get to him.

  As he took in tiny lungfuls of air, a voice he hadn't expected to hear reached him.

  “My Lord? Are you there? I can feel something, but I cannot get to it. I'm stuck within these bars.”

  David's eyes widened. “Wait... Leviathan? You're... we're in the physical world, aren't we?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Saint's ass... I did it! We did it! You got materialized, Lev!”

  “Is that so? Then, congratulations, my Lord.”

  “Teamwork, Leviathan, teamwork. But, not the time for that. You're crushing me, and if they show up, they'll see you, and that'll be... huh, I have no idea how they'll react. Can you get... back in?” David asked.

  “...”

  All he heard was laboured breathing.

  “You have no idea.”

  “I am sorry, my Lord.”

  David sighed. As much as he could, still mostly crushed by his mana's... his pet? By Leviathan's bulk. “What if I just try to... suck you back in?”

  “How?”

  “I can just, huh, do the inverse of what I usually do. Let me try something.”

  David closed his eyes and felt for the contact between him and Leviathan's body. He let his mana channel extend, all the way until they just about reached the serpent, and he... pulled.

  It felt wrong, like trying to suck air out of water, but, somehow, something trickled back in.

  Little by little, Leviathan's bulk lessened, until his mana channel swallowed a large pill sideways, scrapping as it went down, and Leviathan just... vanished, bursting into a starburst of blue mana particles, which scintillated away.

  Just as the light show died down, the door to the room burst open, Griff stepping in and jerking his head around, looking for something.

  When nothing appeared remiss, he turned his head toward the central cell's occupant. David raised his head, looking at the man blankly.

  The man at arm furrowed his brow and grimaced, turning and slamming the door behind him.

  David waited a few seconds and then let out a breath, getting to his feet and walking around the cell, taking in great, full lungs of air.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  You never quite properly appreciate your ability to breathe until it's taken from you.

  Something caught his eye. He squinted and approached the bars of his prison.

  The carved runes were... pitted. Corroded. He quirked an eyebrow and reached for his collar, running his fingers over it.

  The metal around his neck felt rough. He scratched at it with a fingernail and could feel some of it scraping off, like peeling paint.

  He put his hand in front of him and pushed through a tiny bit of mana.

  And nothing happened. No feedback. No pain. The runes remained inert.

  He grinned. When Niala would need him, he'd be ready.

  Torsteel burst into the attic room, both Regis and Niala turning their head in his direction.

  He eyed them both with suspicion, then looked up and down at the room, and frowned.

  Niala turned her attention back to her brewing, while Regis quirked a brow.

  “Searching for something, Lord Torsteel?”

  The large man levelled his glare at the noble. “Didn't you feel the tremor?”

  “We did, but when nothing threatened to crush us, and we didn't hear screams, I immediately understood it wasn't my problem.” He offered a thin smile. “This is your mansion, after all.”

  Torsteel grumbled and threw a hand at Regis, approaching Niala as he did.

  “You, girl, how far along are you?”

  She didn't even bother glancing at him, her eyes focused on the flow of liquid between the vial she was tipping over a beaker. “Mostly done with the manipulation, then some time to heat, stir, strain and distill. Please don't disturb me, the process is exceedingly finicky.”

  The lord narrowed his eyes at the catkin before turning toward Regis.

  “She's been following the recipe?”

  The noble shrugged. “As far as I can tell.”

  “What!? I asked you to be here so you could watch over her, you idiot!”

  “None of that, Torsteel. That formula is about as long as my forearm. I'm not going to remember every step. From what I can tell, she's been following it, and hasn't been brewing something else.”

  The large man switched his head from one to the other, his annoyance growing each time, before storming off. “Remember, girl. A failed potion means a chunk of your boyfriend!” He shouted over his shoulder, slamming the attic door behind him.

  Regis watched the man go, turned to watch his ward, grew bored within a few seconds, and returned to carving a piece of wood with his dagger.

  All the while, Niala kept her tail and ears on lockdown. She absolutely could not let them betray her by wiggling and swaying in joy.

  Because, she'd figured something out.

  As far as Regis knew, she was using each and every single ingredient, as the recipe asked for. But she had also added things to it; extra parts of the ingredients that the formula didn't call for. Specific parts.

  And during the heating, straining, and distilling? She'd be removing those parts, and the resulting “waste” wouldn't be a waste at all. Another win for the greatness of compound alchemy.

  She glanced up at Regis without moving her head.

  Hope you like vomiting, you pig-bred pox-licker.

  A bell later, Niala was done, letting the last drop of the acrid, sickly-yellow potion drip into the phial, and corking it. She held it up against the light, squinting at it as she gently swirled the pus-looking liquid around, and nodded, confident it was as the formula described.

  She turned her head toward Regis, who had stopped making wood shavings and was looking at her.

  “Done?” He asked.

  She nodded.

  He let his eyes roll up. “Finally! Let's bring this little mystery brew to our good lord, so he can give me my spoils and I can get far away from here before your boyfriend's family comes charging. Hop hop, let's go!” He motioned at her to get moving.

  She glared at him and turned around, hiding the second phial in front of her, and tucking it into one of her dress's pockets.

  She opened the door of the lab, only to find Heartsong lying against the wall. She did her best not to appear surprised, and simply walked past it, not giving it anymore attention.

  If Regis saw the sword, he didn't make mention of it. She sent a small prayer to the saints; they really didn't need their captors getting agitated about a mysterious sword appearing in their path. She hoped the sword would wait a bit before showing up once more.

  Regis prodded her along, toward Torsteel's study, where the large man looked up, expectant, as they entered. “It's done, then?”

  Niala nodded.

  A large, hungry smile splayed across the Lord's face. “Good! Then, let's go test it, shall we? Follow me, both of you.”

  Regis stepped in front of the Lord. “Not so fast. My reward, so I can leave.”

  Torsteel let his head angle down, bringing his eyes onto the smaller man.

  “I said, once the potion is complete and confirmed. It has not been CONFIRMED, Regis. Follow. Me.” The Lord commanded, shoving past the noble, who threw a glare at the man, before grabbing Niala by the arm and pushing her forward.

  They soon reached the cellar, Griff having joined them along the way, and through a few doors reached a wide carved stone room, in the middle of which was an isolated cell, and within...

  “David!” Niala exclaimed, his name catching in her throat, despite having spoken to him a few minutes earlier through their link. Seeing him alive and well, in the flesh... illogical it may be, a weight lifted off her heart.

  Her boyfriend got up from his sorry excuse for a bed and walked up to the cell's bars, smiling at her. “Hey, kitten.”

  Torsteel interposed himself, cutting short Niala's reply.

  “Very touching.” He said, turning toward the catkin and extending his hand, palm up. “The potion.”

  Niala glared up at the man, but gave him the small phial. He brought it up to his eyes, somehow marvelling at the gooey substance within, seeing something nobody else did. He wrenched his eyes away from it, retrieving the remote for Niala's collar from his coat pocket and lobbing it at Regis, who caught it awkwardly, giving Torsteel a look.

  “If she tries anything, choke her. If he tries anything.” He pointed a thumb at David. “Behead her.”

  Regis looked at both prisoners and shrugged, leaning against the wall and turning the remote in his hand.

  The Lord looked at Griff and motioned for him to follow. He directed him to open David's cell and pushed him back toward the middle.

  Where David guessed the mana feedback effect would have been the strongest. He nearly grinned, but managed to steel his features, concentrating on how much he hated the man in front of him instead.

  He glanced at Niala and closed his eyes. She did the same, only for a few seconds. If either of the three men caught sight of that peculiarity, none reacted to it.

  Torsteel's mouth turned into a jovial smile. “Well!” He thundered. “I guess I should tell you! This potion, my sweet girl, is going to make me a god!”

  He then uncorked the phial and downed its contents in one go. Even from where they were, they could smell the foul liquid.

  Torsteel grimaced, but forced himself to swallow. His whole body shivered, and the air in the room seemed to chill.

  Regis, David, and Niala looked at the man and blinked. Even Griff seemed taken aback, though he remained stoic.

  Casting the empty glassware aside, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked to everyone in turn.

  “Oh, you all doubt me? Ha! This potion had a very special gift. The ability to consume mana.” He revealed, the room falling silent.

  Despite herself, Niala couldn't help but speak up. “Consume... magivore?!”

  Torsteel's grin grew wider. “Indeed. And what finer meal than... you!” He shouted, and before David could shake off his shock, the Lord's hand darted forward, clamping down on David's arm. Torsteel breathed in, and David felt something leave him. He looked at his arm and saw the tell-tale glow of mana, flowing through his arms, along his channels, and into the Lord's feeding hand.

  David looked up at the large man, seeing wide, hungry eyes, their whites having slightly yellowed.

  Torsteel's teeth were on full display. “How exquisite! They said you had a lot of mana, but this feels... infinite. It's like it WANTS to be consumed! Ooooh!”

  The lord's hand squeezed even harder on David's arm, and the blue light intensified.

  David could feel the mana rushing through him, but... it was just like watching a river flow past. Somehow, he figured the experience would be a bit more excruciating for anyone else.

  He wondered...

  He flicked his eyes at Regis, saw that the man was agape, staring at the heretical spectacle playing out in front of him. He glanced at Niala, met her gaze, and sent the signal through their link, as they had agreed a few seconds earlier. Deep love and trust.

  Niala began weaving with one hand, while David turned on his imbuements to full power, backhanding Griff with a Strong Arm before the man could react. He went flying and crumpled against the metal bars before he could register the movement. David's hand then clamped down on Torsteel's arm, the one that was feeding off of him.

  At the same time, Niala flicked her “special surprise” phial at Regis. The glass shattered on his face, liquid splashing on him, rapidly turning into fumes.

  The man yelped, turned, rage in his eyes, bringing up the remote and smashing the button.

  Only to see the catkin holding her collar in one hand, off her neck, and turning up her nose at him.

  His mouth turned into a rictus, his hand gripping his dagger, and took a step toward her, only to stop, as something grabbed his innards and twisted. He heaved once, twice, fell to his knees, hands to the floor, eyes wide in panic.

  And then, his entire gastrointestinal system decided it wanted to be empty, right now, and it didn't care which hole it was coming out of.

  Niala looked away, turning her eyes toward David, finding Torsteel laughing maniacally, his form bulging, his mana channel glowing a greenish hue as they gorged.

  “So much power! Oh! I can feel my body becoming more!”

  His voice was deep, guttural, feral.

  “David!” Niala shouted.

  He looked at her, then at Torsteel, his mouth a grim slit. He leaned toward the large man, whose veins were being pushed up against his skin as his muscles grew.

  “Enjoy the meal,” David said.

  And then he let go.

  The mana flow quadrupled. Quintupled. Sextupled, and it kept going.

  Torsteel's head shot back in ecstasy, howling like a madman.

  And then, David pushed.

  He willed his mana forward. He put every ounce of his ability to direct a near infinite amount of mana into the siphon that was Torsteel's hand.

  The Lord's hand bloated, like a water-logged corpse's. The bloat climbed up his arm, the man's clothes bursting open. His skin cracked, and red-yellow pus sweated out.

  Torsteel's laughter stopped, the man recognizing something was wrong even in his current state. He brought his head down, looking at his hand, and then up to David, a puzzled look in his eyes. He tried to pull away, but David kept the man's arm and hand clamped over his.

  And through all this, he did not stop pushing his mana out.

  The bloat reached Torsteel's shoulder, his chest, his neck. The man pulled, and pulled, screaming as he did. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO YOU FOOL!”

  When he looked away from his expanding flesh and to David, all he found was a dead stare. Or rather, someone staring at a dead man.

  Torsteel grimaced and slammed his other hand into David's face, his empowered flesh turning his fist into a missile. Bone crunched, flesh ripped apart.

  The Lord pulled away his quaking arm. David's Iron Body was on full display over his intact head, marred only by gore and bone bits. Torsteel panned his eyes toward the mulched remnants of his hand and screamed, a mix of fear and pain. By now, the bloat had reached half his face, and was growing down his torso. The siphoning hand looked like a squeezed balloon of flesh, blood vessels rupturing in miniature geysers.

  And yet, David kept the man's hand glued to him, and pushed even more mana, he-

  “David,” Niala's voice ripped him out of his grim trance.

  “Stop this. No torture. You're better than this.” She said.

  The young man looked away from her and up at Torsteel's face, one of his eyes having popped out of his skull, pushed out like an overripe tomato.

  He wrenched the man's hand off his arm, stepping back in revulsion.

  The Lord's remaining eye rolled backward, and the sack of flesh that was his body fell forward, landing in a squelching thump.

  David stared at... whatever Torsteel was, now, decided he wanted nothing more to do with this, gripped his mana collar and tore it off.

  He stepped out of the cell, took Niala's hand, and walked with her out of the cellar, neither looking back.

  Only for David to nearly trip on Heartsong, which had appeared on the floor, just beyond the door. David looked at the sword, glanced at Niala, who shrugged, and picked up the clingy blade.

  They made their way to the attic, where they burned the formula and set fire to the workshop. They then flagged down one of the house staff, intimidated the location of their stuff out of the poor man, and went to retrieve it.

  David knocked out whoever stood in their way. He tried not to kill any of them, but he wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

  They went back down, got out of the mansion, located the autocar they had arrived in and climbed into the driver's cabin.

  His family could deal with this. He just wanted a shower, clean clothes, a good meal, a cozy bed, and a warm Niala using him as a pillow.

  From the way she was leaning on him, and from what was coming through their link, he could tell she had just about the same wishes.

  Behind them, grey smoke began to rise from the mansion.