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Book 2 | Chapter 12

  “Seriously, Cruz, how do you keep getting in here?” It was the dead of night, the second night since Cruz and I agreed on the terms of my apprenticeship. The intrusion played out much as it had before; Fudge woke me up, I reached for the mana lamp, and the resulting glow revealed Cruz standing by the door wearing his usual mask of irritation.

  Even as the words left my mouth, the parallels between the two situations put me on high alert. Through the lingering dregs of interrupted sleep, my eyes immediately scanned Cruz’s hands for a bucket of water. There wasn’t one, which alone did much to temper my annoyance.

  “Get your shit,” Cruz grumbled, avoiding the question entirely. “I want to get this over with.”

  I immediately perked up at that. A quick click of the tongue signalled for Fudge to hop off the bed, freeing my legs so that I might do the same.

  “By ‘this’ do you mean-”

  “The time you just wasted trying to ask that question was prime ‘getting your shit’ time and we do not have all night.” Cruz maintained the prickly attitude, but I was in no mood to argue the little things with him. Unlike when I did so with Lionel, it felt less like friendly banter and more like trying to argue politics with that one relative at family gatherings.

  Instead, I quietly followed the instructions.

  “My shit has been got,” I eventually clipped. In putting on my final boot, I noted that it was starting to feel uncomfortably snug; an unfortunate symptom of my growing body. A problem but, more importantly, a problem for later.

  “Then follow me and keep quiet.” When Cruz stepped out into the hallway, he did so without a lightsource, getting swallowed by the inky darkness. I moved to follow. There was no time to prepare a torch and I didn’t dare haul the mana lamp along with me.

  Even if it weren’t too large to comfortably pocket, the thought of accidentally breaking the magical item terrified me. I didn’t know exactly how expensive they were, but I would have wagered I couldn’t afford it and-

  Actually, do I get paid? Another question for later.

  If my experiences with Cruz to date had been any indication, the man had no intention of waiting for me if I failed to match his pace. He was using a Skill to navigate, of that much, at least, I was certain. I just needed to do the same.

  It isn’t actually complete darkness, I reminded myself. Stars filled the night sky, a sliver of the moon was providing its pale glow, and trace amounts of light from both were almost certainly filtering in through the small window on the far wall of the hallway. Normally, it wouldn’t have been enough to navigate by; not even the improved baseline capabilities that accompanied reaching the First Tier were enough for me to bridge the gap. Not on their own, at least.

  Mana from Perseverance answered my call.

  I shouldn’t be able to see? Says who? So what? I’ll just see anyway! I repeated the words, the challenge to the world, and tried to internalize it to give purpose to my Skill. Intent is important. It was my mantra, my guide for the usage and development of my Skills. Perseverance was my most powerful Skill, my Core Skill, but since I Advanced its progress had been glacial.

  That needed to change. I’d reflected on Perseverance. I revisited my understanding. I sought to refine my intent so that I might push the Skill to greater heights.

  Mana flowed from my core to my eyes, coloured by the heat of defiance. Perseverance was the drive, the persistence required to do something despite difficulty or delay. Without an obstacle, there was nothing to persevere through. It was a combative facet of Perseverance, one I found myself drawn to. To claim, to know that I would succeed, no matter what stood in my way… it was spiteful- prideful, even.

  And it was working.

  Darkness receded as my mana-enhanced vision greedily claimed any sensory cue it could. Fine details remained obscured, but I could see well enough to navigate without tripping over myself. I scurried to catch up with Cruz, Fudge hot on my heels. We were leaving the manor.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  ‘Oi, Lopa, open the gate.” Cruz rapped his knuckles on the gatehouse door, no longer minding his volume with the main building far enough behind us. When the door opened to reveal a young man, I immediately recognized a family resemblance.

  “You must be Palo’s brother,” I chirped before scrunching my face up slightly. “Wait, and your name is Lopa so-”

  “Yeah, our parents thought they were being clever,” he said with a chuckle, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “So, you must be the little-”

  “Oi,” Cruz interrupted with a few clicks of his fingers before pointing at the gate. “Lopa. The gate.” He pointed at me. “You. Shut up and remember why we are here.”

  Lopa gave a quick, clumsy salute.

  “Yes sir. Sorry, Slayer, sir. Slayer.” He gave me an apologetic smile before closing the door, the locking mechanism heavy enough to be heard through the wood.

  “Must you be so abrasive to everyone?”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Must you never mind your own business?”

  Before I could snap out a retort, the gate groaned open a crack and Cruz was quick to slip through.

  “Thanks Lopa!” I called out, before following suit. The breeze was enough to give Cruz’s cloak a slight billow as he followed the road down into town. I looked down at Fudge who had fallen into step beside me. “Okay, boy, honest opinion: Would I look good in a cloak?” His ears perked up at the sound of my voice, but Fudge otherwise kept his opinion to himself. “Good talk,” I said with a chuckle before hurrying to catch up to Cruz.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  The streets were largely empty. They were unlit, too. Without the relative automation and safety of electric street lamps, I imagined widespread civil lighting was a challenging prospect. Idly, I wondered why mana lamps, like the one I had in my room, weren’t utilized for the task.

  Cost, probably, I ultimately concluded albeit with little evidence to go on beyond cynical pattern recognition.

  We passed by a pair of people patrolling the streets, each armed with a torch and wearing a cudgel on their belts. When they challenged our presence, Cruz withdrew a medallion from his shirt and brandished it, stating his name and identity as a Slayer. Despite the torchlight, I couldn’t quite make out the medallion’s markings, but it seemed to satisfy the guards and they were quick to leave us to our business.

  “What was with the medallion?” I asked when we were probably out of earshot.

  “Today is not a question day.”

  “Seriously?” I sputtered.

  “The exception for today was to help you Advance your Skill. Everything else is not my problem.” Cruz picked up his pace ever so slightly, enough that I had to almost jog to keep up given my comparative shorter legs. I scowled but otherwise let the matter drop.

  At least I got confirmation that we are here to Advance Recovery.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  “Okay, we are here, get to it.” Cruz came to an abrupt stop before speaking. We were in a part of Dorbe I didn’t recognize, not much of a feat given I’d not left the fort since my arrival. Deep shadows cast by moonlight and stone buildings blanketed the space. Beneath the open sky, my eyes had been able to adjust to the limited light without needing to invoke Perseverance. Even so, I briefly reengaged the Skill as I looked around. A broom here, a discarded toy sword there, but no signs or other signs of business. It was a residential area.

  My lips drew into a line as I furrowed my brow. Was I missing something?

  “You are going to need to be more specific.” I pulled up next to Cruz while Fudge, in turn, pulled up next to me.

  Cruz let loose an exasperated sigh and muttered something under his breath.

  “Your Skill,” he said slowly, dragging out each syllable to the point of insult. “Ad-vance it.”

  “I am going to need more than that. Why now? Why here? Any pointers?” Cruz promised his help. Given what it cost me, I wasn’t content to let him pull his usual silent act.

  Cruz sighed again, running a hand over his face as if I were being the unreasonable one.

  “Why now? Because I said so. Why here? Because if you succumb to the Beast High for too long, worst case scenario you break some shit and accidentally hurt someone. As for a pointer? Do not fuck it up.”

  As I digested the words, my mind flashed back to our conversation a couple of days prior.

  He’s giving me stakes. I looked around, once again noting all of the houses presumably filled with innocent, sleeping people.

  “Are you insane?” I snapped. “Your master plan is to have me risk going all feral and attacking someone?”

  “Correct. Now get to it, I-”

  “Bullshit. In any case, you being here is a safety net. You expect me to believe you would let me-”

  “Shut up. Listen. Yes, I will stop you from accidentally killing anyone if I have to. However, if you damage property and injure someone I can appeal to get you removed from the Slayers. You fuck up, you are gone.”

  I narrowed my eyes to glare at Cruz. Part of me wanted to believe that he was bluffing, that if something went catastrophically wrong he wouldn’t let some bystander get injured for the sake of ridding himself of me, or that it would even play out that way if I did, or-

  Regardless, the problem is that I am not one hundred percent certain, which I suppose is the point. Stakes.

  “Come here, Fudge.” It was an awful situation. If I denied Cruz’s help, warped though it may have been, then it would probably destroy what little rapport we’d been able to build and, as much as it pained me, there were certain things I did need him for.

  I just need to believe he won’t let me- No. I just need to not fuck this up. I hated that his advice resonated with me.

  I placed a hand on Fudge’s flank, drawing comfort and confidence from the connection, the feeling of his coarse fur beneath my touch. Physical proximity wasn’t going to be a factor, not with the nature of our Tamer Bond, but it still helped. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling each of my Skills thrum with power as I did so.

  Mana from Taming [Fudge] was first. I guided it inward towards the metaphysical door that represented my connection to Fudge. When I called his System window, it was with a pulse of mana sent through the bond. This time I needed something more, I was calling mana from one of Fudge’s Skills. A structure. A membrane. A tube. A funnel. I shaped the mana with my will, instilling within it a purpose guided by my intent. It was something the mana could pass through, something I could adjust or close off, something beyond my first, clumsy application of the technique.

  I felt a stirring of curiosity from Fudge. He could sense I was doing something just not what it was. Tina’s lessons returned to me, then. Taming, at its core, was about the bond - not just the Tamer Bond.

  Listen boy, I need your help. The words travelled effortlessly between us, a vehicle for the feelings of love and trust I was sending to Fudge. I need to borrow your strength. If I can learn- when I learn to do this, I’ll be able to help you grow up big and strong as well. Perseverance flared in response to my conviction. Mana from the Skill moved to reinforce my efforts, almost unbidden.

  Fudge responded to my feelings, answering them in kind. No, not in kind. Everything I sent to Fudge, it felt like it returned a hundredfold, a thousandfold. Unconditional love. Unwavering trust. Fudge would follow my lead, no matter what I needed. The sheer weight of the sensation was almost enough to shatter my concentration. It was overwhelming.

  It was time. My mana reached through the Tamer Bond. Calling. Beckoning. I took one final breath and readied my Skills, certain that when the Beast High hit I would be ready for it.

  I wasn’t.

  We love Fudge.

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