Writing with quill and ink was similar to writing with a ballpoint pen, but years of experience with the latter had led to some poor habits with the former. I had yet to successfully fill out a page without accidently turning segments of it into a homage to Jackson Pollock. I was writing a list, of sorts, or maybe it was closer to a plan…

  One more day. One more day until the week I’d promised Cruz came to its end. Despite my success with Captain Engel, there would be no external mediation coming to my rescue. It was up to me- to Cruz and I, to agree to some kind of arrangement that resulted in a successful apprenticeship. To that end, the broad strokes of my strategy were simple; the less Cruz had to do, the more likely I’d be able to squeeze some effort out of him when I really needed it.

  My mind drifted to the signed document resting in my pocket, the main component of my payment from Captain Engel. It skirted the line of interference in my training, but didn’t quite cross it. The power of requisition. Anything I needed, any resources or services to aid me over the course of my apprenticeship, Engel would cover their cost. Or rather, Squad Nine would.

  I just need to make sure I don’t abuse it. Engel had been abundantly emphatic on that point, as well as the requirement that I keep accurate records of any expenditures.

  Fudge wandered over and pressed his nose into my arm, making my most recent stroke on the page turn into a new addition on the blotchy tapestry.

  “What is it, boy?” I asked, exasperated. I already knew the answer. Even without the wagging tail, the distinct sense of excitement and anticipation I felt through the Tamer Bond made it clear; he wanted to play.

  Fudge did not understand that a day of chores and excessive exercise had left me aching. To him, it was just time I’d spent not giving him attention and affection. Even so, when faced with that excited, dopey face, it was easy to find a hidden reserve of energy. With the lingering dregs of my mana, I willed a quick pulse of Recovery and Perseverance to perk me up while I stored my writing implements.

  “Come on then,” I said. Fudge brought his head low and stuck his rump into the air, excitedly tapping his paws into the hardwood floors as he watched me make my way to the door. When I opened it, he bolted into the hallway and scrambled to make his way outside. I winced when I heard something thud to the ground, thankful only that it wasn’t accompanied by the sound of shattering glassware.

  As I rushed after Fudge, I passed by Wynn on the stairs, her hair pulled into a tight bun and a look of faint amusement on her face. When she saw me, she gestured down towards the still-open front doors.

  “I took the liberty of opening the doors for Master Fudge,” she said impishly.

  “Thanks, Wynn,” I chirped. “Also, Fudge knocked over a decorative half-column thing in the-”

  “Never you mind, Master Will, I will see to it.” She offered me a parting wave and I could only offer an amused smile of my own. None of the other staff did the whole ‘Master’ routine; Wynn just lived in her own little world and no one seemed bothered by it, myself included.

  Whatever you have to do to make cleaning up after people fun.

  Twilight bathed the grounds and Fudge had already busied himself gallivanting around the lawns. I took the opportunity to send a slight touch of mana through the Tamer Bond, knowing that it’d return with Fudge’s Skill list; it had been some time since I checked in on it.

  Fudge’s Core Skill had already caught up to Perseverance despite the large head start I had. So far as I could tell, he was utilizing the Skill constantly - simply being brought in a slow stream of proficiency points for the Skill, bridging the gap with quantity over quality.

  Conversely, his new Skills have barely progressed at all. There was a slight nudge, an occasional bout of inspiration and instinct that came from my Skills. Simply possessing a Skill gave someone a knack for it, but it was intent and practice that enabled someone to develop those Skills into something more.

  Fudge lacked the intent, the deeper understanding that he needed to be proactive in his Skill usage. I could try to coax him, and for most Skills it might have been sufficient. Quantum Manipulation was somewhat of an outlier in that regard, since even I wasn’t entirely sure as to its scope and the way Fudge might interpret it. He was making progress, but it was slow. In hindsight, giving the Skill to Fudge might have been… hasty.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Too late to change it now, though. I’d been thinking about regrets a lot, about how people tended to regret the things they didn’t do as opposed to the things they did. Looking at Fudge’s Skills, it occurred to me that the notion was just a matter of perspective. Had I given Fudge a different Skill, I might have regretted not pushing for Quantum Manipulation, one of the tools I speculated might be crucial in my efforts to return home one day. As it was, I regretted not taking more time to consider the implications. In that regard, regrets were a lose-lose phenomenon and I would have dismissed them entirely if such things were simply a matter of desire.

  Durability posed its own problems. There was a simplicity to it, and I suspected much of its growth had come from Fudge roughhousing with the other dogs back at the kennel and his own disregard for safety. In the short term, that was fine, and the Skill could very well save his life - both our lives - one day. The issue was that I needed to help Fudge be more proactive in his development.

  That meant testing the limits of his durability which, more than likely, would result in pain and injury for the creature I truly believed was the least deserving of either. Cold logic told me that it would be worth it, that if I continued to neglect that facet of his development and it became the reason he was ever seriously hurt I would never forgive myself, but even so…

  I jogged to one of the garden beds and started hunting for a stick to throw.

  That is not why I am out here right now, so it is not worth torturing myself over, I told myself, like a coward. Fudge, sensing my intentions, dove into the foliage and found a suitable stick for himself, one that I proceeded to send endlessly careening through the air in an effort to tire him out.

  I’d throw. He’d chase. He’d retrieve. I’d throw again. The cool air, the slight tug as Fudge always played at fighting for the stick before relinquishing it to me - there was a simple joy to be found in the repetition of it all and my mind, so prone to wandering, drifted back to the matter of Fudge’s Skills. Since Durability remained on the cognitive blacklist for the evening, that meant revisiting Quantum Manipulation.

  The issue was actually teaching Fudge about his Skill, a challenging feat even without considering that it was built on my borderline science-fiction understanding of the underlying concepts. Tina once told me that the trick to teaching dogs, especially working dogs, was to guide them towards their instincts; purpose-bred dogs tended to have innate qualities that left them suited to their work.

  In that regard, they tend to train themselves. If my understanding of Skills was even remotely accurate, the mere existence of Quantum Manipulation in Fudge would give him instincts, of sorts, to guide him towards its usage. The fact that he’d somehow already pushed it to Level Two was reason enough to believe that there was some merit to that line of thinking.

  I started silently rambling to myself as I tried to make sense of my thoughts.

  I need to guide him. I need to teach him. I need to train- no. I need to guide him. I need to nurture- no… I need to guide him. I need to show him. Show him… huh.

  I leaned back and hurled the stick, watching it rotate end over end like the gears spinning in my brain. If I could show Fudge an example, give him something to duplicate…

  With the extra layer of understanding the Tamer Bond grants us, it just might work. There was only one major problem with the idea.

  Borrowing Fudge’s Skills was possible. I’d already done so accidentally, once, prompting a lecture from Tina in the process. Therein lay the problem. Borrowing Fudge’s Skills, his inhuman mana, for anything meaningful would almost certainly induce the Beast High. I’d need supervision, and even then, I’d seen how even my mother had been impacted by Vigil’s mana. Her silvery hair, her borderline feral countenance, it had taken hours for her to recover to even a semblance of-

  Fudge had since returned with the stick, but I was too distracted to take it from him, much to his tail-wagging displeasure.

  System, I thought, conjuring the familiar blue screen.

  My efforts over the last several days had pushed Recovery to the bottleneck. For the longest time, I’d planned to guide the Skill towards improving my body’s ability to recover from injury, illness, or some other type of physical ailment more effectively than its other applications. The problem with Fudge had shed light on an alternative, one that I felt the allure of with increasing certainty.

  The Beast High was one of the biggest barriers preventing a person from leveraging the frankly absurd capabilities of the Taming Skill. According to Tina, my Core Skill, Perseverance, would already help in that regard, but what if I pushed that detriment back even further? I could-

  “Ooph!” I recoiled backwards from the sudden impact to my sternum where an impatient Fudge prodded me with his snout.

  He was immune to my subsequent glare, instead opting to nudge the stick in my direction, rolling it along with his nose. I just laughed at the absurdity of it all.

  “My apologies, Master Fudge. Of course fetch is more important than potentially deciding on the direction of my Build.” Good natured sarcasm dripped from my voice, completely lost on Fudge who was just watching the stick while he tippy-tapped to hold back the imminent burst of speed he was planning to unleash.

  I didn’t keep him waiting any longer. As the stick sailed away, I conceded that Fudge was right. I still had time to plan out the specifics, and spending time with Fudge was a type of training in itself, one it was important to give my full attention. The emotional bond between Fudge and I was just as important as the magical one. Moreso, even. With an excited giggle of my own, I chased after Fudge and onto the lawn.

  Will is doing his best to salvage a cohesive build from his rash decisions.

  You can read up to 10 Chapters Ahead over on my . Today's chapter features reflection, volatile mana, and a silver haired guardsman.

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