Asheva: A Summoner's Tale - [Book-1 Complete]

[Aleth08]

Chapter-24 New Instincts

Contracting Toast didn't need any of his blood, so he could contract one of the other two Astylinds without any delay. And after much deliberation that considered their sizes, he chose the egg. He repeated the same process on the kitchen slab and poured the useless blood down the sink. The head-sized egg now radiated a blue halo.

Contract.

The clean slit on his wrist spurted blood as he traced the spell circuit in his soul space. His face paled from the drain, a chill rose from his core, shivers took over him, and his lips purpled. Hypovolemia—his status reverted to it.

After he shed the needed blood, his wound closed, and the puddle of red floated up to form the spell circuit in the air. It flashed with a blood tint and changed into mist threads that cocooned the egg. Next part was the wait game.

Orange stood on Ewan's shoulders and comforted him and Toast by raising the temperature. Ewan leaned on the kitchen countertop, short on breath, and waited for the cocoon to shrink. And soon enough, it thinned.

The same process repeated, and the spell succeeded once again. The egg shook, its shell fractured, and a muffled howl escaped its cracks. Ewan didn't help though; breaking out of the egg was a ceremony of sorts for many Astylinds and Starons—a rite of birth, some called it. He wouldn't interfere in that unless necessary.

Hit after another, the creature inside banged against the eggshell and broke through. It tore it with its blue claws that looked like human hands and finally crawled out. It was the size of Ewan's head, with navy blue skin, clawed hands and feet, a long pointy tail, and two tiny bumps on the sides of its forehead. Even without using <Identify>, Ewan recognized this creature, and braced for another impact.

Imp…

They were one of the subspecies of the Demons. Like Humans, they were also Starons and not Astylinds. A fine line of intelligence and wisdom divided the Astylinds and the Starons. Though the Demons stood among the lowest rung of the ladder as a Staron, far from humans and much closer to the Astylinds, the upper rung still categorized them in the same class.

"The spell really doesn't discriminate…," Ewan murmured.

Even though it was possible in theory, his Pa proved it in reality—he contracted another Staron. And now Ewan too followed in his footsteps. He traced the spell circuit and cast <Identify> while the little Imp scarfed the eggshells.

[Astylind Name: Imp (Ice-Variant)]

[Astylind Level: Level-0]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Ice]

[Skills: Ice-Favored]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Alvodor. Their talents and affinity vary based on their bloodline. But most are capable of decent spellcasting and melee combat.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Ice), Frozen Web, Ice Honey.]

[Remark 1: Low wisdom, barely crossing the line. Possibility of taming and rearing is high.]

[Remark 2: Basic contract doesn't work. Success rate might increase with a modified spell circuit.]

[Remark 3: Hah, I'm a master of a Demon now. But too much torture broke his mind. Tch!]

[Remark 4: Modified spell circuit succeeded; the contract was a success. No oppression needed. Changing their format in the database, the contracted ones will be noted 'Astylind' from now on.]

Ewan read the details and the remarks as the abundant Ice-Anima in the surroundings surged towards him and the Imp. There was a new rune in his soul space now, a metallic white 'V' shaped rune. It glowed with a gentle but frigid bluish-white halo. It proved his ability to cast ice spells.

The little Imp cried at Ewan once he finished the eggshells.

"Still hungry?" He carried him on his other shoulder and prepared the utensils to cook food and heat up some milk.

The Imp clutched his hair and stuck close to him as his legs wobbled. Orange screeched at him and climbed on Ewan's head, puffing his chest out once he reached the top. The Imp looked at him then glanced down at the floor; his knees buckled, and his legs trembled harder. He buried his face in Ewan's hair and stuck even closer while Ewan cooked.

Unlike his other two Astylinds, the little Imp could digest solid food right from the start. If he was on Alvodor, he would've hunted for food soon after his birth.

The scalding pan thawed the semi-frozen meat and seared it. The sizzling fat made Ewan salivate and its smell invited him. Once the slab of meat came to the normal body temperature though, he experienced a craving he never did before. The meat was still raw and red, it would've repulsed him before. Yet, he thirsted for it right now.

He sighed and closed his eyes. One of the changes had already arrived, and it was one of the undesirable ones. Cats liked fresh kill, they liked meat that was still warm, fresh, and bloody. Now Ewan craved it too. But he didn't give in. It was only an instinctual want; he could still suppress it. And so, he continued cooking the meat and warmed up the milk on the side stove.

When the meat went past a certain point, still raw but beyond the normal body temperature, his instincts also simmered down. He prepared a tiny milk bottle for Toast after checking its temperature on his inside wrist and sliced the meat in half for Orange and the little Imp. Orange could also eat solid food now, much to his delight. He didn't have to stare at Ewan's food while drinking his milk anymore.

When Ewan put them both on the countertop, the Imp calmed down and attended to the food. As they both ravaged the meat, Orange pointed at the Imp and complained with all his vigor. A piece of meat hung from his mouth as he hooted with a muffled voice. Their bond conveyed his whines and gripes about why the Imp didn't have to drink milk. Ewan shook his head in defeat as he had no solution for it. Any explanation would only waste his energy, he could only let things be.

The cliched fight between ice and fire—the reality of his house was proving why society deemed it a cliché. The future didn't look too peaceful.

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[Aleth08]

Chapter-25 Blood

The white-out stopped after a few days but the snow held the colony down. Since he could do nothing else, Ewan put all his focus into training his Astylinds and his own studies. And after a few drills in the basement, the Imp's skill, Ice-Favored, distinguished itself.

If Orange showed his talent by instinct, then Frost, as Ewan named him, proved his genius by conscious actions. The Favored-level affinity boosted his knack with the ice element spells, the sheer ease with which Frost controlled the Ice-Anima surpassed the extent of Ewan's rune.

Today too, they all remained in the basement. Ewan held Toast in his arms and fed him lukewarm milk while Orange rammed through the cardboard maze and Frost hurled a tiny icicle at the wall, grinding his casting stability. It exploded, and a few shattered shards pelted Orange who was preparing to start again. He halted, the ice shards melting in his fur, and turned towards Frost who stared back at him with an unrelenting gaze.

"Not again…," Ewan grumbled as his two Astylinds jumped at each other with a feral howl. Frost grabbed Orange's fur; Orange pulled Frost's tail. They wrestled on the ground and rolled around. Frost scratched Orange's back, Orange bit Frost's neck; they both drew blood. Left and right, they rolled and tussled.

"That's enough." He was stern but kept his voice low for Toast.

The two broke free at once and stood upright in front of him, panting as their limbs shivered. Disheveled fur, twitching tail, they had their heads down but glared at each other from the corner of their eyes.

Ewan sighed with his head down, they needed to fight together in the future… He didn't separate them when training with that in mind. It also fueled their rivalry, and they trained harder when together. But they were magnets, one hint of spark and they went at each other with ferocity. He overlooked their scuffles up to a point but had to interfere when they drew blood.

"Sit."

He sat on the wooden chair he brought from the house and had them sit up on the table. After putting Toast on the temporary bed he made with clothes and a blanket, he cleaned their wounds and applied some antiseptic. Their vitality would do the rest.

"Hmm, go back."

He patted them and the two resumed their drills. Sparks still flew between them at times, but no fights broke out. Ewan regained peace, at least for some time.

….

[Vin]

Residential Area, Zone-D.

"Vin, did you wash my uniform?" Teal yelled from inside.

"Yeah, they were too dirty," Vin replied as he gazed at the white snow outside the time-battered window. The heavy snow might not have affected the rich much, but it gave him a headache. His savings almost ran dry. He lied to his sister several times these last few days that they had enough, that she could eat as much as she wanted—he could starve for days, she couldn't.

Luckily, the blizzard stopped, and the work would soon resume.

"You idiot, why did you wash them now?" she said. "They all froze." She showed him the checkered brown skirt in her hand, frozen into a solid block.

"My bad. Leave them, I'll deal with that later. What about your school? Still not open?"

"What, you don't like me staying at home?"

Vin sighed. "Why'd I even ask?"

Teal pouted but still replied, "They'll distribute the Astylinds soon, so it should open in a few days."

Vin frowned. "Teal."

"I know, I know, we're selling that. I won't contract it, don't worry."

"Teal, we're humans. We live our time and die; we can't become monsters."

"Ah, don't start your cult thing again. I got it already."

Vin shook his head with a helpless smile. "Give me that." He gestured at the hairband.

Teal was a head shorter than him; he stood behind her and gathered her long black hair. "Did you wash your hair?" he asked. They were wet, cold, and smelled of their usual shampoo with a strong hint of lavender.

"Yeah."

"Don't wash it so often, you'll catch a cold." He rubbed them with his t-shirt before tying them into a ponytail with the hairband.

"You're so dirty, Vin."

"It's called being efficient." He smacked her head.

Teal blew the hair strands that came to her eyes "Give me two Sols. I'm going out with Rynn," she said.

"Where're you going in this weather? Just stay home and study. Your finals will be soon, no?"

"I'm bored, we'll only play for a bit. I promise I'll be back before evening," she turned and said with a beaming smile, the biggest weakness of her big brother.

Faced with that, Vin could only agree. He earned for her, if she didn't spend it, who would. He only worried about not having enough food during the blizzard, so he cut down on other expenses. But the situation was improving now, things would get better for sure.

Yet, when he waved goodbye to his sister and closed the rusted creaking main gate, he received a mind-numbing message from work on his aged and bruised phone. The increased prices of raw materials cut into their profit shares. To maintain efficiency, they were downsizing, and they let him go.

…..

[Ewan]

Early morning, in the kitchen.

Ewan repeated the process with the seed and used the last container of blood he had. With his current nutritious diet and improved physique, he recovered from hypovolemia sooner than the last time. He was ready to contract his final Astylind now.

Blood splattered as the dagger ran down his wrist and he traced the spell circuit.

Contract.

As usual, the connection strengthened when the blood cocoon thinned, thread by thread. Soon, the spell ended, and the contract succeeded. The seed on the kitchen slab trembled and sprouted a tiny pale pinkish bud. A frail consciousness touched Ewan's soul; he could crush it by mistake if he didn't pay attention, as was the case with the plant types in general. Incoherent thoughts, basic instincts; that was all he received from the bud.

He frowned, because one word prevailed among those thoughts. 'Blood', the bud thirsted for it. Instead of the wood element, the seed was of the blood element. A blood-red spherical rune now gleamed in his soul space.

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[Aleth08]

Chapter-26 Change of Plans

Identify.

[Astylind Name: Blood Lotus]

[Astylind Level: Level-0]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Blood]

[Skills: Blood-Recipient]

[Gender: Female]

[Description: Extinct natives of Sepra. They had decent affinity with Blood-Anima (Recipient) but lacked the means to protect themselves. Delicate and feeble. They lost the battle of natural selection.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Blood), Blood Stone, Astylind Blood, Bone Marrow.]

[Remark 1: Can be used as an ingredient for potions. Useless otherwise.]

[Remark 2: Decent choice for a healing type Astylind. But lack strong evolution branches.]

[Remark 3: I don't like them. They're nasty~]

[Remark 4: Special evolution path found. Focus should be on its grade.]

Ewan read all the remarks but paid special attention to the last one, which could be from his Pa. The relation between the evolution and the grades was a new thing for him, no one taught it in the class. He made a mental note to read up on it and focused on the bud for now.

She thirsted for blood, and her craving tingled his soul. But before feeding her the leftover Astylind blood, he did a test. He sliced his right palm and offered her his blood.

The pinkish bud quivered; her intense furor flooded Ewan's senses. Yet, she rejected him. No matter how much he enticed her with it, she didn't go for his blood. He smiled once he confirmed this.

"Good girl." She swayed on his caress.

Ewan prepared a small dishware and poured the Astylind blood in it for her. And this time, she didn't shy away. A tiny root struggled out of the seed and reached for the blood. As she sucked, the bud's color deepened, and she gained a red luster. Little by little, she gulped down the rest of it—the pinkish bud now turned wine red.

Ewan stood to the side, licking his wound. The taste of iron tingled his instinct, but his reason smothered it.

Now that all the contracts were over, he had to make plans. He needed resources to grow, much more than an average Step-0 Severynth; he had four Astylinds after all. Toast didn't need any resources for he was one with Ewan, but his other Astylinds did. His Pa left him a good number of Novas and Anima Crystals. But he couldn't rely on only them forever, he needed to source his earnings.

Hunting, it was the first thing that popped into his head. Yet, before marching out, he needed to make sure he and his Astylinds were up to par. On top of that, he also needed to prep. From information to necessities, he had to make some trips to the hub again.

…..

Ewan's days monotonized. Apart from his daily needs, he only trained. He drilled his Astylinds and drew the spell circuits; he studied the related books and experimented with the ideas he had. He had three elemental runes now—Fire, Ice, and Blood. He ignored the fire for now, as his Spellbook missed this element, and focused on the other two.

<Ice Daggers>, he picked this spell for his first focus. It had a low min and a high max Anima point—its cost spectrum spanned larger than many other spells in the Spellbook. Ewan could cast it twice now and could also keep using it in higher stages.
The only issue was that its circuit had no targeting mechanism. It didn't act like a normal spell because of this. Instead, it contained a structure that enhanced Ryvia, a skill that most Ashevas had, in one form or the other—Severynths and Cerades gained it after their third awakening. But before that, it was weaker than even <Ember>. It couldn't hit its target unless the caster was an expert at throwing knives.

Ewan chose it with the future in mind. By the time of his third awakening, which he set as the minimum requirement for hunting, he would become adept at tracing its spell circuit.

Ice Daggers!

He read the Spellbook in his left hand and followed the spell circuit diagram. This was his fifth attempt, and he succeeded. The Ice-Anima left his ice rune and flew through the circuit he created. He only used enough to reach the spell's min Anima point, and it activated.

However… Ewan's muscles tightened, his face flushed and contorted, veins bulged on his neck and forehead. The frictional force combined with the resistance wreaked havoc inside his body. The spell succeeded, yet the result was a tiny blunt and disfigured ice dagger floating before his right palm.

He cancelled the spell and collapsed on all fours, breathless and gasping. Frost and Orange halted their training and rushed to him.

Bottle…

His throat grated when he breathed, so he told them through their connection. Frost dashed to the table and grabbed him the bottle of water while Orange stood in front of him, silent and confused.

After gulping down large mouthfuls of the cold water, Ewan lay flat on the floor, staring at the white ceiling, his limbs spread apart. The cold floor comforted his spasming muscles, and his heaving chest rested a few moments later.

Mr. Worth sure downplayed the side effects of having different elemental runes a lot in his class, Ewan wanted to punch that old bastard in the nose. This was the first time he cast a spell after he gained the ice and the blood elemental rune. And the negative impact was a lot worse than just a weakened spell.

"Go back. Its fine now."

When his Astylinds returned to training, he sat in the corner with his books and his notebook. He had a theory on why it happened and how to overcome it but needed to confirm it.

After scribbling for half an hour, he verified the reason and let it go once it satiated his curiosity. The different Anima were in balance inside his body, it was the cause for what happened. If he made any one element the dominant party, it could solve the problem. The body modification techniques that Mr. Worth mentioned must work on this basis. He had no intention of following the same path though, he had the 'Elementalist' path.

"I should start with that…," he murmured. The spells were out of his reach for now, not until he completed a part of the first layer of his body modification at least. The 'Elementalist' subtype would reveal its glory only after the completion of the modifications and the circuit setup, but its passive effect of taming the Anima would show up from the beginning.

The combined feedback from his Astylinds, excluding Toast, pushed his Spirit to 2.6 in the last week. He could try the hub again and look for the ingredients.
Another brief read of its book detailed what he needed for its completion. The first layer, 'Heart of Anima', required potions. Because it had its own recipe, he couldn't buy it anywhere and had to create it himself. And for that, he needed tools.

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[Aleth08]

Chapter-27 Tower of Failures

The glossy white metal walls brightened the basement as always. Echoes of Orange blasting through the cardboard maze and Frost freezing the wall then cracking the ice rolled in the empty hall. Toast slept inside Ewan's wheel tattoo while Iris, his new Astylind, remained in the blood rune.

Ewan put the beaker with the black sludge on the table and fanned the stenchy fumes away with the hand fan. Once the air around him was clear, he slumped on the chair, his legs spread, and let out a defeated grumble. This was his ninth attempt, and his ninth failure. He spent three Novas on ten sets of ingredients, only one set remained now.

After resting, he stretched his stiff body, his joints popped, and rinsed the beaker and the test tubes in the bucket by the side. He also sterilized them with alcohol and wiped them dry with a clean cloth before starting again.

The base of the potion was an ice based Aennon solution. Ms. Ridgell praised it as revolutionary and extoled the man who invented it—Aennon Cokon. A vital ingredient that shaped modern Potioneering, she often stressed.

If only there were practical classes…. Ewan shook his head.

After heating the solution on the burner up to the mentioned temperature, he took the beaker off and left it aside to cool down. One Level-0 Astylind Core of ice element and pure blood from an ice-type Astylind, these two were the main components for this potion, while some other accompaniment herbs served as catalysts and stabilizers. He measured them all in different test tubes and processed them.

His surgical knife glided on the tiny milky Astylind Core as he engraved a part of a spell circuit on it. The powdered core fell on the table which he wiped away with a rug before dropping the carved core into the cooling solution. After giving it a stir, he poured in the blood and let it rest, as the swirls of red blended into white.

His leg bobbed up and down as he sat back and watched the solution change color. The moment the red overwhelmed the contents then allowed a bloom of white, he snatched the beaker, the liquid sloshed on its wall, and sent in his spirit. And the solution bubbled. The core melted, the red faded away, and it all turned snowy white. Its temperature nose-dived and the glass beaker frosted.

Ewan waited for the solution and his spirit to stabilize before adding in the rest of the ingredients, one by one. Different ingredients caused different effects on the solution. One agitated it, the other caused the temperature to rise before plunging again. One formed a frozen crust on top, while the other cancelled all effects and neutralized the solution.

It was a smooth ride up till this point. Yet, the next moment, the solution seethed and blackened. It emanated a vomit inducing fume and heated up the beaker.

He failed again…

"AHHH!!"

Ewan clutched his hair and banged his head against the table, again and again, rattling the glass tools. No talent, he was worthless, he repeated in his head. Ten sets of ingredients, ten failures, he didn't even see a glint of success.

Positive! Positive!!

He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. They said a tower of failures always gave birth to the peak of success. He wanted to believe that; he needed to believe that. At least it wasn't all a waste, he gained precious experience. Where he made mistakes, which parts he could improve on, the ten trials told him all that.

…….

[Vin]

Residential Area, Zone-D.

Vin followed the cheap 'How To' book he bought at a stall and applied some basic makeup to hide his pale face and cracked lips. The Frosthelm sky darkened in the early hours; Teal would come home soon. He stuffed all the tools back into the bag with shaky hands and threw it under his bed. A bout of dizziness assaulted him when he got up, his vision blurred, and he collapsed on the bed. His breath was rough and rapid, cold sweat drenched his back, and his heart raced. The feeling of emptiness from the core was a new experience for him. And it wasn't a pleasant one.

The main gate opened with its distinct creak—Teal was home. Vin couldn't let her see him like this, so he dragged his body up, unfolded his shirt's sleeves to hide the needle marks, and went out of the room.

"You were home?" Teal asked, throwing her bag onto the tattered and patched sofa, and unzipping her skirt.

"Yeah, I'm leaving for work now. How was school? Anything new?"

"Mr. Wells caught Rynn today. She was fucking some guy on the roof. Her boyfriend was so pissed." She chuckled.

"Teal," Vin said in a low voice.

"Sorry, she was 'fornicating' with some guy," she said.

"Teal!" He raised his voice, and that alone took everything. He wobbled and the world spun before his eyes.

"Okay, okay. I won't say it again." Luckily, she faced the other way and was taking off her uniform. Vin leaned on the door handle and stabilized himself.

"By the way, did you wear makeup today?" she turned and said after stripping down to her white undies with a cute puppy face on it.

Vin's heart skipped a beat. "Y-Yeah, my job changed. I-It's about meeting customers now, so I have to dress up."

"You left your old one?"

"N-No, same job. But different work now." The web of lies he spun deepened with each answer.

"Hmm, see you then. I'll go take a nap." She headed to her room.

"Teal." He eyed her.

She heaved a sigh and picked up her uniform from the floor.

"Shoes too," he said.

She put the shoes in their place with another sigh and trudged to her room. Vin smiled and went out once she closed her door.

Today too, he would earn Sols to sustain her current peaceful life. The job market ran desolate under the current circumstances, no one hired him even after several tries. So, he had to take extreme measures. Even so, the legitimate places rejected his form when they checked his needles marks. He could only sell his blood on the black market now. Good thing he had a colleague—ex colleague, really—who introduced him to a place.

This solution wasn't feasible in the long term, especially with the skyrocketing costs, but it had to do for the time being. Once Teal got her Astylind from the school, it would ease their financial crisis. At that time, he could rely on its sale to continue their lives and keep looking for another job that could afford her costs—quick work on a daily income basis couldn't support her after all. The law might've banned the Astylinds' trades among the public but selling it to the War Dogs was still legal.

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[Aleth08]

Chapter-28 Modification

[Ewan]

Ewan grinned at the frosted and frigid test tube as a snow-white watery liquid sloshed in it. The taste of success after so many failures was utterly delightful, it blew away all his negative thoughts and boosted his confidence. He could create the rest of the potions needed for this technique with enough practice, he was sure now.

Eagerness filled him; he couldn't wait to use the potion. His <Identify> spell already confirmed its effect, there were no problems with it. He loaded the potion into the injector gun he purchased from the hub and shot it into his left-hand vein.
A metallic taste invaded his palate and throat as the icy liquid traveled up his arm, leaving behind a thin layer of frost on his skin in its wake. Ewan used his spirit to lead the liquid to his heart and trapped it there; his chest chilled, and wintry mist seeped out of his mouth and nose.

Once it settled down, the potion took effect and webbed his heart, modifying it with every passing second. Ewan clutched his chest and groaned; each heartbeat assaulted him with a wave of pain. The chilled air felt colder, even in his thick ivory down-jacket, he shivered—goosebumps ran on his skin. Gradually, the pain subsided, and he hugged himself into silence, his head buried in his chest. His breaths were quiet and regular, but his back still trembled from the cold. The chills spreading away from his heart didn't help his state either, it made it worse instead. His fingers and toes numbed; he couldn't feel them anymore.
He tried to shout and call Orange, yet all that came out was a shaking whisper and a steamed breath. He was his Astylind though, connected to him with his soul. His thoughts were all Ewan needed to convey his intentions.

Orange!

The little monkey jumped out of the cardboard maze and beelined to Ewan while screeching; Frost stopped practicing too and rushed to him. Orange jumped on his shoulder and vented his Fire-Anima. He didn't use its explosive nature but heated up the surroundings.

The temperature rose and Ewan gained some respite, he stopped shivering and his goosebumps settled down. The warmth countered the frigid wave spreading inside his body and balanced his condition. He didn't take any other measure against it though. This was the process of modification, he had to go through this if he wanted to complete the technique. In hindsight, it would've been better to use this potion later when Frosthelm season was gone. The fire potion instead would've been a better choice for this weather. Nonetheless, the past was past. He could only learn from it, not change it.

After a good while, the biting chill died down and he slouched back on the chair. Orange grabbed his hair and jumped up and down on his shoulders, squeaking with every landing. Frost stood still on the table, his steady gaze reflecting Ewan's drained figure.

It's over now.

There were still several potions he had to go through. But for now, he relished the success with a weak yet satisfied smile.

…..

Stubborn dark clouds hid the moons, even the tree bending wind couldn't move them. Ewan perched atop the artistic false chimney, the peak of his mansion, his hair dancing wild with the gale. His eyes shone an emerald-green and gave off a predator's aura. Everything in his neighborhood was crystal clear to him, even in the dim and dark night.

Nana slumped out cold in her balcony as always, a bottle of half-empty dark rum dangling in her hand. She still wore her uniform and had no blanket on; it was a wonder how she survived the wintry nights.
His childhood friend, Verina, giggled on the phone in her bedroom; her parents bickered in theirs.
The young couple cuddled in the same quilt on their porch, across from his house, and drank from the same mug of steaming beverage. Even the bleak wind couldn't dissipate the pink warmth around them.

Ewan looked towards Nana again, his green irises quivered—she was different today. From the low-proof liquors to the high-proof rum, she upped her alcohol game. She might be at her limit… If her life continued like this, he might hear about her never waking up soon, and the thought filled him with fraught. He gazed at her, his heart in turmoil. But after a few minutes of tumbling thoughts and considerations, he suppressed his urge to help her. She chose her way of life, and with their relationship in tatters, he couldn't deny her choice, even if he wanted to. His unsolicited help might even aggravate her situation, he didn't want to risk damage to her or their already frayed connection.

He sighed and jumped off the chimney, landing in the balcony on all fours. His knees bent and his fingers absorbed the shock, a silent touch down. It felt good to follow the lingering instinct in his soul from time to time, orgasmic even, especially when he suppressed it for so long. But he couldn't let it dictate his life.

He lounged on the recliner and sipped the warm milk left on the table.

"Blegh, so fucking bland."

He stirred in almost ten times the sugar he used to add. Yet, it still tasted vapid. Some changes were favorable to him, but others only left him bitter. At this point, he could only wish the negative effects would mellow out in the future and he would be able to taste sweet food again.

He chugged the milk and put the mug back on the table. Even if it tasted flat, he still needed to drink it. Wiping his mouth, he took out a test tube half-filled with an orange liquid. It was the fire potion, needed for the 'Elementalist' modification. Ninth attempt marked his success this time, much better than his fifteen trials last time. Frosthelm wasn't over yet, far from it actually. The freezing weather could counter the side effects of this potion—the reason he chose it.

He brought Frost out from inside the ice rune and punctured himself with the injector gun. The warmth of the liquid turned searing hot as it traveled along his vein. The metallic taste filled his mouth and throat again as he used his spirit and guided the potion to his heart. And his chest singed from the inside, it was several times worse than any heartburn he ever had.

The modification part came next, the same torturous pain would soon ensue. Ewan only hoped the weather and Frost's support would be enough to ease it.

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[Aleth08]

Chapter-29 2nd Awakening

His sweat froze on his face, his wet hair iced. A hint of heat still sauntered inside his body, as if he ran a super marathon. He lay motionless on the recliner, his chest heaving. While Frost stood on the table, controlling the Ice-Anima to maintain a low temperature around him—his focus was Ewan's head.

Two parts of the first layer ended after the fire potion modified his heart. Fire-Anima and Ice-Anima suppressed the Blood-Anima in his body but remained in harmony with each other now. Once he recovered, Ewan tried nudging both Anima, his shoulders tensed from the fresh memory of the agony—he gently tugged at the Anima before he fully employed them.

His body still resisted their movement, but the incomplete spell circuit in his heart nulled the friction between them. He eased up and heaved a sigh of relief. This meant he could cast fire and ice spells from now on. Their effects would diminish because of the resistance but he wouldn't experience the agonizing pain anymore. It would be same as when he cast <Ember> before. A large burden was off his mind.

Eleven elements, eleven potions; two done, nine left. The rest he could complete over time, but he needed to finish the blood potion before practicing his spellcasting again.

And he had to prepare for his second awakening too. Frost leveled up over the last few weeks, he was now Level-1. Much to Orange's dismay and annoyance, he also grew taller and came only a bit short of Ewan's knees. His growth shot up the feedback Ewan received, but he was now at a standstill. His 'Spirit' reached 2.9 and stopped growing. A paper-thin layer blocked his soul from getting stronger. He needed to break that.

Not tonight though, the tussle with the potion wore him out. Breakthrough could wait till tomorrow, tonight he would wheeze.

…..

Spirit like ripples, Mr. Worth often said. It was the most efficient method to break through the initial soul blockades. Ewan sat in the basement, his hand at his navel, his eyes closed, his breaths routined. The frigid floor chilled his bum through the black pajamas, the silence rang in his ears, and his heart thumped in a rhythm.

In his soul space, the transparent puddle of spirit reflected the three elemental runes floating above. Orange, White, Red, they glowed with different halos. Ewan concentrated on his spirit puddle and plucked the center, the puddle rippled but had no effect on the blockade. Ewan plucked his spirit again, and again. The ripples resonated with each other and became violent waves with each shock. The puddle billowed but couldn't grow, a metaphorical film broke its advance.

He lost all sense of time, but it should've been less than an hour since he started; his stomach had yet to growl. His temples ached but he didn't stop. He still had enough stamina to continue.

Time passed and his stomach finally rumbled. His spirit puddle also erupted at the same time and clobbered his head. He jerked back, his nose bled, his ears buzzed. His body exuded a sickening sweet smell again. He'd become insensitive to sweet taste because of his change. But he could still smell the overwhelming syrupy sweetness coming from his body.

The puddle of spirit grew, and the feedback from his Astylinds flooded in again. He wiped the blood off his lips and nose and cast <Identify>.

…

…

…

His 'Spirit' soared to 3.2, his stagnant 'Vitality' also went up to 1.3. And his status showed '2nd Awakening' now.
It was a matter of celebration but the crisp doorbell reverberating in the empty basement cut it short—it was a handy and neat feature that Ewan discovered in the control panel.

"Nana?" He received an unexpected guest once he opened the door.

"You still call me that," she said with a sheepish laugh, twiddling her thumbs. It was Havanna, his always drunk neighbor, his fiancé, and the person he was once the closest to. The dark circles under her eyes, the wilted hair, the chapped lips, the dry skin, and the lingering scent of liquor—she looked haggard in her casual pajamas and worn-down slippers. Even her voluptuous figure couldn't counter that.

"You've grown taller," she said. "I have to look up to you now."

"I have," Ewan said with a smile; he was half a head taller than her. "Come in." He led her through the courtyard and inside the house, her bulging pocket scraping against her thigh and clattering as she walked.

"You awakened?" she asked.

"Hmm, a while back, this was the second." Ewan nodded, the sweet smell around him was hard to miss. "Don't mind the dust," he said, slapping the sofa and fanning the brown cloud away with his hand before sitting her down. After he poured her a glass of water, he took a seat on the opposite one.

"Did I disturb you?" She held the glass with both her hands. Her knees huddled together; she sat on the edge of the sofa.

"You didn't, don't worry," Ewan said.

She nodded and sipped from her glass, staring at the floor. The familiarity and the closeness they once shared was no more, the awkward air had long seeped in between them, stemming from the lack of interaction for years, especially during the time they both changed.

"I-I wanted some advice." Her voice shook and dimmed down.

"About Astylinds?"

Her shoulders tightened; she gave a meek nod.

"Go on," he said.

"I-I wanted to buy one. H-How do I do that?"

Ewan stared at her and exhaled a sigh.

"Nana, buying Astylinds like that is banned. You should know that." She was focusing on law studies in the first institute and was good at it. Between the two, she was more of an expert in this area. "Unless you convince someone to give it to you for free, there's no hope. You can't find it even on the black market." He received Orange like that, so the loophole could work for her too.

She tightened her grip on the glass and bit her lips—it bled. "Is there really no other way?"

His eyes wavered as he stared at her devastated figure—that desperation, that hopelessness, and her desolated spirit teetering at the end of its road yanked the skeletons of the emotions buried in his heart. He couldn't bear to see her this way…

"What happened to the one you received from the school?" he asked.

"I-I didn't receive it." She shrank away.

And the hall hushed as Ewan lowered his head in deflation, his eyes closed; her situation was too similar to his…

"Did you open your soul space?" he asked. It had been about a year since her eighteenth birthday. If she hadn't opened it, there was little hope for her now for the Severynth path.

She bobbed her head.

"There might be a way then, but I can only be a mediator."

She beamed; her eyes opened wide. "R-Really?"

"Can you afford it?" he asked.

"I should have enough." Her chapped lips broke because of her smile, it bled even more.

"You can't buy it with Sols." He got up and fetched her a lip balm from the kitchen, gesturing at her lips—it looked too painful.

"I-I have the crystals." She took out the bulging pouch from her pocket and handed it to him before applying the lip balm.

"You shouldn't carry it around like that," he murmured and weighed it—about a third of what he had. Whether it was enough to buy an Astylind from the hub or not though, he wasn't sure. If it wasn't, he could add from his stack…

"I'll see what I can do. What kind do you want to buy?"

"Any will do. I don't have any preference."

Ewan nodded. "I'll contact you later then." He returned the pouch and escorted her out.

"Nana," he said when at the main door, and she turned around. "This is not a charity. I'll cash in this favor one day."

"I-I understand," she said in a faint voice.
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[Aleth08]

Chapter-30.1 Havanna [Part-I]

[Havanna—Five years ago]

"What're you making Havanna?" May, her bestie, turned around and asked, her chin resting on Havanna's desk. Recess time washed away the fatigue, even the laziest bunch who snored during the classes now romped around, their garbled chatters and cackles permeating the classroom.

"Hmm…" Havanna scratched her head with her bandaged thumb and gave a mindless reply, blocking out the noises and focusing on weaving the neck gaiter.

"What are you making? Ooii…." May knocked on the desk.

"Hmm? What?"

May tapped on the charcoal-colored cloth and the sewing set on the desk. "What's this?" she asked.

"Gaiter," Havanna replied, gesturing towards her neck.

"Why're you making it yourself?" she asked. "Just buy one."

"It's a gift."

"Handmade? For who?" May asked. "Sorry, for whom?" She emphasized the change, mimicking Ms. Palma, their teacher of the common tongue.

Havanna changed the needle and sewed a section, then checked the gaiter as a whole—the newest part curved to the right. But this was just a practice piece, mistakes would only fuel her improvement, so she let the problem be and continued.

"Tell me." May shook Havanna's hand back and forth, pouting. "Please," she said, stretching out the word.

Havanna clicked her tongue and stopped weaving. "Don't disturb me," she said. "These needles hurt a lot."

"Just tell me then," May murmured and lay her head on Havanna's desk, still pouting. "Is it for him?" she jerked up and asked, her eyes glittering with a wide smile.

Havanna bobbed her head. "His birthday's coming soon. I couldn't even wish him last two times; I'm going to make up for it this time."

Her mind wandered to Ewan; his current state worried her. He looked better than he did two years ago, but his eyes were still dead, and he often forced his smile for others. The neighbors gossiped he was doing well, that he got over uncle's death and was living a good life now. They couldn't tell, but she could, she spent all her childhood with him after all.

"Didn't your parents tell you to not contact him?" May asked. "Why did they do that anyway? Weren't your families super close?"

"Don't know, they don't tell me anything. I didn't even know we had to move," Havanna said. "But I'm not going to listen this time." She clenched her fist.

"Maybe it's because he's unlucky or cursed."

"He's not." Havanna scowled at May.

"Okay, okay." May pulled back. "But think about it. His mother almost killed him once, his father died so early, his relatives stole all his inheritance, he's barely surviving. And then you guys bailed too, and when you came back, your parents didn't want you to contact him," she said. "It really sounds like he's cursed."

"He is not!" Havanna glared, she wanted to punch May's nose. She wasn't the only one to say these words, the neighbors and his classmates did too, even the teachers followed along. They must think Ewan wasn't listening, but he heard it all, because she could too when she was with him. He kept everyone at a distance now, he always had his defense up. If this continued, he would always be alone….

She didn't know the reason why her parents became so frigid towards him, but they must still care—after all, they always whispered about Ewan and how he was doing when she wasn't paying attention, when they thought she wasn't paying attention. If she could convince them that he wasn't doing well and needed their help, they might let her meet him, or better yet, they might go back to how they were themselves.

"Base station to Havanna. Base station to Havanna, over."

"What?"

"Where're you wandering off to? Thinking about him?"

"No." Havanna started sewing again. "Stop interrupting me. I need to finish this," she said.

"Fine, fine. By the way, I need to buy something after school. Come with me," May said.

"I can't. Mum told me to come home early."

"C'mon, please, I really need to buy this, it's the last volume of 'Nocturnals'." She pressed her hands together and begged. "That bookstore gets super busy, I don't want to go alone."

"You're still reading that creepy stuff?"

"It's not creepy! It's literature, you need to read it to understand," May said.

"Fine." Havanna sighed. "But I have to get back by evening."

"Yay!"

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-30.2 Havanna [Part-II]

She's going to kill me today…

Havanna scurried towards her house, even dashed at times, her schoolbag slamming on her back when she did, the bear-shaped keychain clanking away. The streetlights were already on, the new ones burned bright while the old ones flickered, insects buzzing around the bulbs. And even though she was glad to have them light up her path, she wished they didn't, for every patch of light she passed reminded her that she was late, too late.

Her mum told her to come home early, she didn't ask. Now if only her dad could distract her mum and take the heat again…

I won't go down by myself!

At worst, she would put all the blame on May, it was her fault anyway. She dragged her around for this long, first the bookstore then the clothes showroom. In the end, she didn't even buy anything except the book she wanted.

The final turn, and she was on the homestretch. She could already see Ewan's house, his door shut as always at this hour of the day, and after that was hers.

The lights were off, and the windows veiled the insides. Had they gone out? She thought. A bleak hope bloomed in her heart; she just might survive this if they did. The well-oiled main gate opened smoothly. Tiptoeing her way across the small courtyard-garden, avoiding the crisp dried leaves, she unlocked the door with her key and sneaked in.

"Mum, I'm home," she whispered, but the dogs barking in the alleys was the only reply she got. They'd all gathered near her house this evening for some reason...

"Dad?" She raised her voice this time, but it was still a whisper. The hall was pitch dark, only the outlines of the dining table and the sofas pronounced their presence. The whistling wind coming in through the crevices of the window sighed a ghost's whispers—the fresh memory of the 'Nocturnals' painted the resemblance. The weird smell in the air twitched her nose, it was metal of some kind, iron perhaps… Her own house greeted her like a stranger today, an eerie stranger.

"Are they really out?" she murmured while taking off her shoes and putting them in the shoe cabinet. With the slippers on, she groped for the light switches on the left wall and tapped them on.

And they brightened the hall with a dazzling white light…

Two headless bodies lay on the dining table, holding hands. A crescent guillotine blade with a long rope attached to it stabbed the wooden table, just beyond their necks. Two chopped heads with their eyes closed and serene smiles rested on the drenched crimson floor, not far from the table.

Paint?

She looked at the thick red liquid trickling down the table, flooding the floor, then stared at the heads—her mind pulled a blank. The two heads looked like her mum and dad, but that wasn't possible. Her parents were still alive, the heads couldn't be theirs, it couldn't be….

The heavy stench of iron in the air smothered her, or she might not be breathing at all, she couldn't tell anymore. Her vision blurred; her knees buckled as the realization seeped in. It was all a nightmare, it must be a nightmare, she heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed on the floor. And the world went dark.

…..

"It's a cruel way to kill someone." A woman whispered near her.

Who is it?

Havanna wanted to speak but no voice came out. Her body didn't listen to her either, her eyelids were leaden, and her chest weighed on her.

"If only someone noticed it earlier, they could be saved." A different voice whispered this time.

"It was a candle, right? Alas."

What're they talking about?

A sigh followed. "If only she came home earlier."

"Shh. She might hear you."

"Don't worry, she's knocked out cold."

"What're you guys doing here? Stop gossiping and do your job."

"Yes, ma'am," the two whisperers said.

It was my fault…What was?

Her world fell into silence again.

…..

"I'm sorry Havanna. I didn't want to do it, I was forced to," May said, her pitch undulating. Her body snaked around, blood dripping down her face. She stood beside the dining table in the hall. A candle flickered near her, and a taut rope stretched above it, tied to a guillotine blade hanging above the dining table.

"I told you to come home early. If only you did…" Her mum turned her head towards Havanna and said, lying on the table, her eyes going round and round in the socket.

"It wasn't your fault. It was all fated," her dad said, lying beside her mum, staring at the guillotine blade with a serene smile. Soon his facial skin melted and only his muscles, fat, and skull remained. "It was all fate," he said in grinding whispers.

The candle charred the rope and burned it away. Havanna sobbed and reached out to snuff its fire, but her feet kept her still, and the ground glued her back. She watched on, her tears drenching her face then her neck, as the candle incinerated the rope and the guillotine blade plunged for her parents, cleaving their heads off, the thud announcing their death.

A deafening roar shook her world and jolted her. Havanna woke up in her bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, clutching the bed sheets. The ceiling fan was wobbly and blurry, she rubbed her teary eyes.

Five years…you still won't let me go….

Tiny rays of light poured in through the curtain gaps, dust floating around. It must be daylight already, she had overslept, like always.

Skip school today…

Her undies were wet and sticky, her temples ached in waves, her broken lips hurt. She curled up and covered herself with the blanket again. It was already way past school time; it was better to sleep some more.

Yet, a bellow barged in, quivering the windowpanes, and jerked her up.

Ewan?

The voice was too familiar, it was of the one whose mere sight supported her on rainy days, his existence kept her going through her torturous life.
She threw the quilt aside and bolted to the balcony, almost tripping over the blanket, the wooden floor echoing the muffled thump of her naked feet.

Fire blazed around on the other side of the fence. Tongues of flame licked and engulfed Ewan's bare left hand, and it sizzled. Havanna gasped and covered her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even from afar, his agony screamed aloud.

Soon he plunged his hand inside the water bucket. And even the water fizzled from his burning hand, just how hot was it… How much did it hurt… Her cries turned into sobs, and the flood of tears blurred her vision.

…..

Even when the moons replaced the sun and the owls hooted, her tears didn't relent. His uncaring behavior for pain, his brutality, and his tender smile for his Astylind, the contrast carved an impression on her.
He was someone she could relate to, they both experienced the same life, not to mention he was the only one left whom she could call family now, even though they had drifted apart. But unlike her, he was already moving forward towards his future. Could she do it too? Could she too make something of her life? Could she get rid of her guilt and walk ahead? A seed of hope took root, budded, and bloomed.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-31 Water Jay

[Ewan]

She evoked too many emotions in him and amplified his impulses, he didn't like it. They once remained glued to each other day and night, engaged, written to be a family one day, but not anymore. All his familial relationships had scarred him, they burnt him too much to restore any old sentiments. Still, he owed Aunt Ella and Uncle Keith this much, he owed Nana this much, and he owed his past self this much…

But before taking any action, he had to confirm a few things. Emotions and attachments aside, he couldn't be careless even if it was Nana, especially when his 'relatives' still targeted him to this day.

…

…

…

Yet another cloudy night. Wind howled; dogs barked; some drunk men hollered an old classic song, 'Drink along', in the alley together, butchered the song really. Ewan darted on his rooftop—one end to the other—and leaped off the edge; leveraging his fences, he landed in Nana's courtyard. Another quiet descent. Her balcony was lower than his, but still too high for him to reach in one jump. There were a couple windowsills on the way though. He latched onto them and after several gravity defying hops and flips, her balcony lay beneath his feet.

Thank you, Toast…

He patted his hands together and dusted them off silently. The latch of the sliding door barely hung by its lock, and the room was dark—this was Nana's bedroom. She lay on her bed, her back facing Ewan. The light from her phone shone on her face as she stared at its screen.

Ewan hid in a dark corner of the room and crouched down, careful not to step on the empty cans and the bottles strewn around. He waited for seconds, minutes, to confirm whether she had come to him of her own will. Half an hour of staying still numbed his limbs, but he didn't move. Another half an hour, when Nana finally put the phone away and closed her eyes, he moved. He inched closer, and in one swift step, covered her mouth.

"Shh." He gestured with the claw-ringed finger on his lips, his irises glowing green.

She clutched the bed sheet, her eyes widened, her shoulders trembled, her chest heaved.

"I'll ask you some questions. Don't scream and just answer me. Okay?"

She nodded and made a muffled noise; the pressure bled her lips again.

"Did someone tell you to come to me?" He let go of her mouth and licked the warm blood on his palm—it was bitter, like liquor.

She shook her head, her breaths easing down.

"How did you get so many crystals?"

"D-Dad left them." Her voice quivered.

"Why did you wait till now?"

"I-I…I couldn't..."

"Forget it." He knew why. "What will you do after you get the Astylind?" he asked.

"D-Defense force, medical unit."

Ewan frowned. "You won't be able to explain the source of your Astylind, forget about it."

She nodded.

"Nana, I'm not joking. If you're adamant on that, I won't get you any Astylind."

She nodded again; a bit strained this time.

"Your phone," he said. "Unlock it."

He went through her messages, logs, even her account details. There were no signs of anyone contacting her or paying her in the last few weeks, the last record was from months ago. This was weird in its own way, but Ewan also lived a similar life, so he could relate.

"Crystals." He beckoned, and she took the pouch out from the bedside table drawer and gave it to him.

"Come see me tomorrow morning, I'll give you your Astylind. If this much is not enough, I'll pay the rest."

He jumped off her balcony when his words ended, when she tried to reply. His fences became his leverage again, and he landed in his own courtyard. Rubbing his face with trembling hands, he took a deep breath and walked into the house, his stomach churning, and nausea assaulting him—he felt sick to his core, and the thorns of regret mauled his heart. What had he done…

She looked horrified right now, she dreaded him. Even when she calmed down, she was still shaking. And when he left, she must've cried. This confirmation was necessary, for his safety's sake and to err on the side of caution. But at what price? She wasn't any stranger, she was Nana, and he hurt her…

…..

Airadian Hub Stratum.

Water Jay, the books described a small bird with blending white, blue, and black feathers proficient in controlling Water-Anima—their average affinity stood at 'Recipient' level. After a back and forth with the shop owner, Ewan bought its suspended egg for ninety Novas. Another Novas went to the blood needed to resuscitate it, and ten more bought a hub-connector. The remaining five Novas he took out in the coin form of water element and put back in the pouch Nana gave him.

Next morning, Ewan welcomed her into the hall and informed her of the Astylind he bought. The unspoken last night burdened the atmosphere, it thickened the awkwardness between them and pulled them further apart.

"If you're happy with this, contract it. Do it here," he said, steeling his mind. Even though his actions made him sick, he wouldn't apologize, because it was necessary for his sake. Yes, it was necessary…

She nodded and stared at the egg bathing in the blood. It radiated a white and blue tint that intensified as time passed. Soon it was ready for the contract.

"Go ahead," Ewan said.

She took a deep breath and placed the egg on the kitchen countertop with trembling hands. Her gaze never left the egg as she asked for a knife, anything sharp. Ewan lifted his brows, the public spell circuit for <Contract> didn't require any blood, it would've stirred up the community if it did.

The kitchen knife ran across her palm and drew blood, which she used to paint the spell circuit on the back of her hand, grimacing with the pain.

Ewan squinted at the spell circuit—it indeed wasn't the public version; she had her own inheritance. He looked at her, was that why uncle and aunt died? The blood strokes squirmed and clung to the egg after leaving her hand. They fashioned a similar cocoon that Ewan's spell made but more compact and thinner.

Nana had her eyes closed, Ewan stared at the cocoon, their breaths synced and rang loud in the silent hall. The cocoon dissolved into the egg with each passing second, and Nana's smile grew wider. The contract finally succeeded when the last thread melted away, and she beamed.

The eggshell cracked and an ugly bald bird chirped. The harsh echo buzzed in Ewan's ears. But Nana cradled it, and her eyes misted. She mirrored her old self right now; she smiled a lot back then….

"Here." Ewan shoved the hub-connector and the pouch in her hands and shooed her away after giving a brief explanation. He wouldn't know what to do if she cried.

"Wait!" She stopped him when he was about to shut the door. "A-Are you free on your birthday?" she asked.

"I'm going out, Frosthelm festival probably. Why?"

"Oh," she said, her voice dimming down. "N-Nothing, I was just making a gift for you, b-but it won't be ready on your birthday anyway, so…"

"Its fine, give it to me whenever it's ready, birthday or not." Ewan strained a smile; her words weighed on his heart and sharpened his guilt. Even after what he did, she was still asking about his birthday and was making him a gift…. A part of him was grateful to her, that she was willing to let it go and that she didn't hate him for it, but this only worsened his inner conflict.

"Anything else," he said.

"N-No," she stammered.

"Bye then." Ewan closed the door and heaved a breath of relief a second later, leaning on the wall.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-32 Blood Potion

"Luna, come back! Luna!!" she screamed.

Ewan sighed and shook his head, the grass tickling his ears. It was a warm afternoon, and he lazed around in the backyard with his Astylinds, basking in the sun. The silence was calming, up until he heard that word again. Luna, how many times Nana had already yelled that in the last week…
Unlike her given name, the bird was anything but serene.

"Luna!!!"

He groaned and covered his ears, turning to the other side. Toast yawned; half his body lay on Orange. Frost sprawled on his stomach; his tail twitched at times; his breath blew the grass. And Iris nested in Ewan's hair and rolled around.

The noise didn't bother them, but it irked him. He couldn't sleep with both the bird and her master making a ruckus.

If he couldn't rest, it was better to do some work. He got up grumbling and went down to the basement. After the fire and the ice modification parts of the 'Elementalist' subtype, his next target was the blood modification.

…

…

…

Seventh attempt, his eyes stung from sweat, his arms numbed, his shoulders and neck stiffened, but he created the blood potion.

…..

The blood dyed the floor red as the steaming water washed it down the drain. Ewan stood under the shower head, leaning on the wall, hot water prickling his skin. It rinsed the blood off, but more seeped out.
The foggy sight of the clock from the gap in the door showed ten minutes, hypovolemic shock was becoming a concern now. Yet he didn't feel any negative effect so far, except for some weariness and lethargy. The book described this side effect of the blood potion, like the other two potions. 'It's Safe'—written in bold letters pacified Ewan and stopped him from taking any preventive measure.

A few minutes later, the water rinsed the last layer of blood away and exposed his fair but molting skin. He lumbered over and lay down in the empty bathtub, short on breath, his shoulders and face steaming and flushed. When his heaving chest eased down, he scrubbed off the dead skin and took a relaxing bath after filling the tub with hot water; the tap fluttered at the end of it and spewed some cold bursts.
The burn scars on his left hand also peeled off when he rubbed them under water, revealing the rosy skin beneath, spotless without any blemish—the molting was another side effect of the blood potion, and it solved a minor problem of aesthetics for him.

This marked the completion of the necessary modifications. He would still carry on with the subtype, creating potions for it, but he could now continue his spell practice. The three Anima existed in a harmonized balance inside his body and his soul space. He wouldn't have to worry about any conflict between them.

Ewan returned to the basement after putting on black trousers and a white sweatshirt and took out his Spellbook.
Iris went back into the blood rune and slept, Toast climbed his trousers and curled on Ewan's shoulder, Orange trained using his explosive nature of the Fire-Anima to jump around on the walls and the ceiling. And Frost joined Ewan in practice.

<Ice Daggers>, it was the first spell Ewan chose for his focus. He couldn't cast it before, but he still studied its spell circuit and analyzed its workings. This was a spell that shone when the Severynths gained a specific skill after their third awakening—Ryvia. It was worthless without it, but it didn't mean he couldn't practice it.

Ice Daggers!

A white palm-sized straight dagger floated before Ewan. Since its spell circuit didn't have any targeting mechanism, he had to adjust its trajectory at the beginning. He aimed at Frost with one eye closed and hurled the dagger.

Frost pushed both his arms forward and created a head-sized ice shield—it hovered in front of him. But the dagger missed the shield and smashed into the floor, shattering into shards.

"Again." Ewan still had enough Ice-Anima. Frost too had enough for a few more rounds.

Ice Daggers!

He took his time and adjusted his aim to be higher while Frost created another shield and braced himself. The dagger whizzed past him and rammed into the wall, shattering into shards again.

…..

'Astylinds evolved by burning their potential.' Ewan highlighted the text in the thick book. Be it the main syllabus or off-course classes, neither covered the topic of grades of an Astylind in depth—it was only a shallow graze whenever they did. He only knew about the difference in combat strength; the dependence of evolution on grades was a new concept for him. The book described it in terms of potential. The higher the grade, the higher the potential, the higher the success rate of evolution.

The fourth remark for Iris, which might be from his Pa given the sentence structure, mentioned a special evolution path for her. 'Focus should be on its grade,' it read. But how far should he push it? Would getting her to 'Grade-B' be enough, or should he push her all the way to 'Grade-S'…

Grade-S was the best choice if he wanted to be on the safe side, but the resources needed were drastic. Yet, staying mediocre or missing that special evolution path wasn't what he wanted for his Astylinds. Especially Iris, because even though she was Level-1 now, she had no ability apart from using her roots to suck blood. Even with the same affinity level as Orange, she had zero combat value. She could cast no spells, and neither could she act as a support.

Still, whether he pushed it all the way or stopped before, he had to take the first step.

Core and blood from a blood-type Level-1 Astylind, Blood Stone, Bone Marrow—these were the ingredients that would upgrade Iris to Grade-C. He chose her first among his Astylinds.

Once he read through and memorized the topic of Astylinds' evolution and their upgradation process a few times, he put the book aside and connected to the hub. Common sense dictated these ingredients were ordinary and should be available for sale in the general market—her current grade and potential couldn't touch the higher level of commerce in the stratum.

And indeed, they were. He went through the list and selected several shops selling them. Prices varied but all remained under a reasonable range. The navigation led him around the hub. All sizes of spirits crowded the streets, some humanoid, some blobs, some random, as usual. But Ewan's point of view, his altitude, was different now. Though he still looked up to most, he also looked down on some. His spirit could support his shopping sessions.

He spent four Novas and bought a single set of ingredients. From Grade-D to C, he only needed to stir a crude solution of the ingredients using a base liquid, not potions. In Iris's case, it was the Astylind's blood. It was a simple procedure and had no chance of failure. The only variable was the actual process of upgradation. That depended on his Astylinds, he couldn't do anything about its success rate.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 3.5

Anima: [Fire – 3.5 | Ice – 3.5 | Blood – 3.5]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 76
Sol: 32

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-33 Heal

The pot of blood boiled on the stovetop as Ewan muddled it with a glass stirrer and added the ingredients one by one. The liquid darkened and thickened by the minute; the ingredients melted away. Once it dripped like a syrup, he switched off the stovetop and put the pot aside in an ice bath to cool down.

Iris lodged on his head, using his hair as her bed and her blanket, her bud swaying in a rhythm. Her consciousness was far too frail and primitive to understand what Ewan was doing. He only sensed her fondness and her reluctance to leave his hair, which intensified when he told her to jump in the now cooled down pot. But she still followed through and slipped in.

The viscous liquid bubbled, and he felt her getting drowsy. She swayed for a bit more and fell silent a minute later. There was nothing Ewan could do to help, everything depended on her from this point on.

He leaned on the kitchen countertop, his arms crossed, his feet tapping the floor at short intervals. The second hand of the clock couldn't move any slower. He checked up on Iris again, but still no response. His tapping sped up; the wait was killing him.

Finally, a twitch of her bud put him out of his misery. But soon he lowered his head and sighed. The attempt was a failure.

……

[Vin]

Vin leaned on the cracked pillar of his porch, facing the untended overgrown garden bathing in the moonlight. Chips of peeling blue paint stained his white t-shirt, but he only focused on the phone call.

"Hello, Kole?"

"Yeah bro, what's up."

"About what we talked before…," Vin said.

"Yeah."

"Do you…trust them?"

"Trust is a heavy word, Vin. Business, call it business."

"Yes, it's all business with you," Vin said while massaging his nose bridge.

"What happened? They didn't give you any work?" Kole asked.

"…They did."

"Is it…shady?"

Vin stared at the pebbles in the garden, his eyes wavering.

"That much shady?" Kole asked.

"Do you have any other recommendation?" Vin asked.

"Sorry bro. That was the only one I had right now. If you wait a few months, I can try and get you some legitimate work."

Vin sighed. "We can't manage that long," he said. And the call quietened; the slight static rang aloud. "I'm not asking you for money, don't worry."

"You also know how Treva is. She'll throw me out on the road if she finds out I lent someone money," Kole said.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about these guys," Vin said.

"What do you wanna know?" Kole asked.

"Who are these guys? They seemed a bit off when we met… Will they bail on the payment?" Teal still hadn't received her Astylind, things weren't looking good for them. They needed this money; they needed the Sols.

"Hierarchy, Vin, hierarchy. 'Do as you're told' like that lame Lex used to say. Don't dig too deep into this. And they'll pay you, don't fret. They won't be able to float in our market if they fuck with you, I'll make sure of that."

"I just have a bad feeling about this, Kole."

"One of your premonitions again? C'mon bro, you never got it right," Kole said, laughing.

"It's different this time," Vin said.

"That's what you said last time. Listen, don't be nervous, you'll mess up like that. Relax and just think of the Sols you'll earn."

"I'll try to. But just in case something does happen, can you look after Teal for me? You don't need to do much, just check up on her from time to time, see if she's eating well and stuff," Vin said.

"Sure. Hey, if you die, I'll leave Treva and marry your sister." Kole chuckled, and a deafening bang echoed on the phone, buzzing the static; Kole's deathly screams followed soon.

"who will you leave!!" A woman yelled in the back.

"Ah!! Treva! Not the knife!!" Kole shrieked. "It can cut me, woman!!"

Vin hung up and looked at the moons, mourning for his friend in silence. "It'll be fine…I'll be fine," he murmured and tiptoed back inside the house, hoping the creaking gate wouldn't announce his entry. His sister slept like a bird…

…..

[Ewan]

In the kitchen.

The second upgrade attempt ended with Ewan's grin. Iris's bud had darkened, it moved towards a dull dark red. Her size remained the same, but her roots could extend longer now and were more effective in absorbing blood. Most of all, she gained a skill. Heal—the <Identify> spell appraised it as.

[Astylind Name: Blood Lotus]

[Astylind Level: Level-1]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-C]

[Anima Affinity: Blood]

[Skills: Blood-Recipient | Heal]

[Gender: Female]

[Description: Extinct natives of Sepra. They had decent affinity with Blood-Anima (Recipient) but lacked the means to protect themselves. Delicate and feeble. They lost the battle of natural selection.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Blood), Bloodwood, Astylind Blood, Blood Rust.]

[Remark 1: Can be used as an ingredient for potions. Useless otherwise.]

[Remark 2: Decent choice for a healing type Astylind. But lack strong evolution branches.]

[Remark 3: I don't like them. They're nasty~]

[Remark 4: Special evolution path found. Focus should be on its grade.]

Ewan used a kitchen knife and sliced his palm.

"Heal it," he said. Her bud shook and swayed. Blood red particles gathered around her and followed her root which she pointed at Ewan's cut. After a blood tint, his cut shrank and finally closed, only leaving the traces of blood which he licked clean. Though not overwhelming, the effect of her skill left him with a smile. With her, he had a healer now. That was one aspect he wanted to tick off on his list no matter what before going outside the walls.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 3.5

Anima: [Fire – 3.5 | Ice – 3.5 | Blood – 3.5]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 32

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-34 Birthday

Morning rays of sunlight beamed in through the open windows, birds tweeted sweet songs, refreshing smell of dewed grass and soil rejuvenated his breath, even Nana's loud yells were melody to his ears. The world was bright and dazzling, today was a good day, a jolly day—today Ewan turned eighteen.

"Happy birthday, Ewan," he murmured, stretching on the bed, uttering a comfortable groan.

He scheduled no practice today, no potion brewing, no training, no studying. It would be a day of enjoyment, for his eighteenth birthday only came once.

The Frosthelm festival was a good venue to relish the day; he'd planned for it since weeks ago. But the first order of business was getting a haircut. His hair was getting long, the thin end of the strands already reached the tip of his nose.
After getting ready—a navy blue sweatshirt and black cargo pants with sneakers—he locked his main door, strolled through the residential block, and rode the tram painted in blue and white stripes. The weather remained frigid, chilly wind numbed his face, but the snow had melted away. It hadn't fallen for quite some time now—the tracks were salty but clear.

The bogie he got in was empty aside from a couple that sat glued to each other. They were at the front, so Ewan chose the back seat; he didn't want to be the third wheel. The triple-bogie tram moved at its usual pace, about as fast as he could sprint. It wasn't the optimal choice if he was in a hurry, but it was necessary for long distances.

It crossed the quiet residential block, passing its several zones, and entered the bustling and boisterous market area. And soon, the stink of the fishes and the flies of the meat market forced Ewan to shut the windows. A fork split the path ahead. The left went straight to the skyscrapers—the center of the colony. While the right curved towards the cheap and old but huge residential area zone-D, beyond which lay the farming lands.

"Left?" he yelled.

The boy flirting with his girl turned back towards Ewan and nodded a yes. Ewan selected 'left' in the panel beside his seat, and the boy did the same. The tram stopped at this fork for a couple minutes with its doors opened, wintry gusts crossing through. No one got in, it was early morning after all. Only about an hour later would the adults go to work and cram the tram.

The doors closed, the insides warmed up, and the bogie in front broke off to go right. Ewan was in the middle bogie, and it hauled the last one for the left turn.
The now two-bogie tram took Ewan through a protected forest, the residential block zone-C, the Leisure Valley, and finally to the Main Square with high-rise buildings—the couple got off at the residential block.

"Say no to the Severynths! Take down the wall!!" The protestors on the side yelled in hoarse voices while raising their banners.

They're still at it….

'Accept Humanity, Reject Monstrosity, Open the Cage', their banners read. Some distributed flyers, some yelled at the peak of their voices, some sat in the corner and stuffed their faces with cold breakfasts.

"Armageddon follows Severynths! We're all trapped in a birdcage!!" Another group yelled on the other side of the road.

Ewan clicked his tongue and closed his window again. They were everywhere now, germinating like cockroaches, infesting the colony. The breathtaking and neck craning sight of towers on both sides dampened because of them; the glassed walls mirrored Ewan's soured face. Soon the tram came to a roundabout with three directions this time. If the bogie was full, Ewan could've watched the amusing fight over the direction—it was an irksome flaw in the colony's tram system yet amusing for those who had time to waste. But he was alone, and this was his destination, so he stepped out.

"Please wait, dude." A male protestor who was handing out flyers ran to Ewan. He dropped several of them on the way but didn't stop to pick any up.

"Sorry, I don't have time." Ewan politely smiled him off and went his way.

"It won't take long, please. Do you know how cruel the Severynths are? They don't even bat an eye when slaughtering us humans." He kept up with Ewan with the bundle of flyers crumpled in his hands. "They have no conscience and slay us like cattle. Deaths and disasters follow them. They're monsters in human skin. Please, do you not want to save your family from these heinous creatures?"

"I really don't have time, please disturb someone else," he said with annoyance and walked away.

Most of these people were the ones who couldn't become an Asheva; their souls didn't awaken, or they didn't have any other path. Ewan pitied these bitter guys, but he pitied those more who awakened their souls yet chose not to open their soul space. If they knew they could live longer if they reached higher steps, they might die from regrets. Ewan chuckled. Or they might be the type who thought long life was a punishment…

The barber shop was up ahead, empty with a worker cleaning the floors and the tools.

"Just shorten it," Ewan said, sitting on a chair. While the barber got ready, he admired how 'suave' he looked in the mirror. Long hair short hair, it didn't matter, he looked good in either. He would look good even with no hair, he reckoned, but there was no need to test that.

The comfy chair adjusted its bend according to his sitting posture and made him even more comfortable as the barber worked on his hair. Ewan dozed off during the massage that came after and only woke up when the barber removed the cloth and tapped on his shoulders.

The mirror reflected his new look. Wet short black hair, stylized to his usual form.

Ewan paid the barber after checking all sides, the back side too with an additional mirror, and rode the tram again. He only had twenty-seven Sols left now but since he would receive his inheritance soon, he was willing to spend today.

People crammed the tram this time. He found an empty seat in the back but still had to squeeze in. His destination was Leisure Valley, the entertainment venues area he passed on his way here—it was time to enjoy the Frosthelm festival.

He'd also received several spam messages recently stating there was some sort of tournament there for Severynths. The details mentioned that it was a casual event held during the festival for fun. No veterans would attend it, and Ewan too didn't see any value in it, but he didn't mind looking at it while he was there. He had free time on his hand anyway.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 27

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-35 Frosthelm Festival

Leisure Valley.

Tall buildings with animated ads and Frosthelm decorations blotched the area. People in downy clothes congested the streets, their chatters became garbled noise, their dropped popsicles and ice creams littered the road.
Music boomed and the leaves rustled with it, some people in costumes danced on the open and crude stage built to the right. Soon more joined from the audience, and the stage creaked under their mistimed steps.
Towards the left—the park area—had the core of the festival, the once-a-year Frosthelm fair. Stalls lined up the sides, and sellers sold their specialties, from food to photo sessions with half-naked girls who struggled to hide their cold shivers, their teeth clattering under their strained smile.

Fake snow blanketed the grass lawn, kids frolicked around. Intimate couples flirted while families enjoyed their food and drinks together. To the front was an arena of sorts, a coliseum. Its walls and structure looked aged and ancient with fractures racing across, but the sharp smell of fresh paint gave it away.

Ewan stood by the side of the tram after stepping out, already regretting his decision to come here. This kind of atmosphere, oozing with people, was exactly what he didn't like. There wasn't even any space to move, yet people walked at their usual pace. It amazed him how they didn't collide.

He took a deep breath as the tram went on its way after a bell.

"I'm here already. Let's check it out, what can go wrong…," he muttered.

The coliseum was the tournament venue, the spam message had its picture. Ewan avoided the crowd by moving around them and reached the arena. An open bluestone plaza in front had people roaming about, some bought tickets from the booth set up on the side.

"For one," Ewan said to the booth man.

"Watching or taking part?" The seller asked.

"Watching."

"It'll be two Sols."

Ewan proceeded inside after the printer wrestled to vomit his ticket out, shaking with every retch. The staff at the entrance marked his ticket and guided him to his seat, 63B, a not-so-comfortable plastic seat in the second row. They didn't even have any armrest, Ewan grumbled.

"Would you like something to drink?" the staff asked.

"No, thank you."

On the stage down below, two men, both dressed in garish costumes of their contracted Astylinds, battled. Though 'battled' was an overstatement. Their Astylinds, a red-furred fox and a brown-furred feline with horns, growled at each other from a distance. They circled the stage, glaring and howling, while their masters yelled out instructions from the edge.

The scene left Ewan gaping. He didn't expect much from this tournament, but this was something...

"Excuse me," he asked the staff who almost walked away.

"Yes?"

"The drinks, are they free?"

"Yes sir. May I ask what you would like to have?"

"Lime soda if you have it, triple the sugar."

"I'll bring it right away."

The fight wasn't worthy of the Sols he spent, so at least he could get some drinks and relax before going to that festival market. Those half naked sisters waited for him.

…..

Ewan's section was half empty when he came in, or half-filled—he was in a good mood today—but more audience trickled in as the 'fights' went on. His lime soda hadn't even arrived yet and the seats around him bent from the weight. They hollered, they cheered, some made bets while some stood on their seats and applauded their favorites.

The matches were insipid, how could these excite anyone… Perhaps they hadn't seen any Severynths before. Lime soda or no lime soda, he wasn't staying among the rowdy crowd another second.

"Excuse me." He made his way out, threading through the narrow space left between the seats. People complained and grumbled, and he apologized when he stepped on their feet.

"Sir, your lime soda!" The staff he'd given his order to yelled from the aisle. Ewan gestured him to meet at the entrance and continued his way out and climbed the stairs.

A man of about his height stood on the topmost step near the exit, mumbling away, his hood shading his face. He fiddled with a wooden cylinder in his hand, about his forearm's length, its head thicker than the shaft. He flicked the button on the shaft while stretching his inner t-shirt's collar as if it strangled him. He gasped for breaths, his nails scratching his neck, drawing blood.

Except for a fleeting frown though, Ewan didn't mind him.

"AHH!!! I don't want to do it!!" Ewan flinched at the sudden scream and stepped back on the stairs, away from the man. Some of the audience in the vicinity turned towards him, but no one else paid him any attention. And the overzealous roars of the audience drowned him soon.

"I don't want to…I don't…I'm sorry, Teal…forgive your useless brother." The man broke down, sobbing and mumbling, his back slouched.

Ewan inched away, each step careful and slow, not attracting any attention. The back of his neck tingled; it was his connection with Toast—their merged souls. His enhanced bestial instincts screamed at him to get away from this man, he was dangerous. But any sudden action could trigger him, so he eased his strides.

The sobbing man bawled away, his shoulders shaking, and tears and snot trickled down his face. He pressed the button on the cylinder he was holding and dropped it, collapsing on his knees. The cylinder clanked on the floor and rolled towards Ewan, growling on the concrete as it did and thudding on each step.

Shit!!

Ewan's senses sent a tremor down his spine, but before he could bolt away, the cylinder exploded.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------


Status: Healthy


Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-36 Blood Rein

The loud and the fuzzy rang his ears—an annoying and blaring mosquito noise that just wouldn't go away. He blinked and squinted several times, shook his head, and the rotating world finally became halted. Dust and splinters covered the sky, it prickled his eyes and irritated his throat. It pained when he coughed so he held it in and gulped.

He lay on a bed of rubble, of wood and concrete. His chest, his stomach, and his forearms were a bloody mess. His palm came out red when he grazed the back of his head. And his face too had bleeding lacerations. He groaned and struggled to get up, but his limbs refused to listen, and he collapsed again, adding to the wounds.
The waves of stinging pain kept him down this time. The ringing subsided after a while, and the screams of the panicking audience trickled in. Luckily, no one trampled him while he slept here.

Iris.

She slid out of the vortex he opened and dove into his dusty hair. Ewan first had her target his head injury that dizzied him, which she healed after using her skill a couple of times. His skull hadn't broken, it was only a gash on the skin and a blunt trauma without any hostility, so it didn't take much to heal it. But it sapped Iris of her Anima.

He took out a small red Anima Crystal of the blood element and had Iris recover her Anima with it. This was faster than natural recovery.
Iris binge healed his chest and stomach wounds, the Anima Crystal sponsoring her splurge, while Ewan wrestled to his feet again. The more he moved, the more he bled. But he couldn't stay here anymore, vulnerable and unguarded. He propped his battered and pelted body on the large rubble and rotated his sore neck, grunting with hitched heaves. All the audience was gone, the explosion had razed the area down to the ground. No stairs, no seats, it only left splintered pieces of them, and there in the distance lay a shattered glass of lime soda. His increased vitality was the only reason he survived the blast despite being so close to it…

Maybe we really are monsters…

Ewan aimed for the exit, or whatever remained of the crumbling arc. There was one explosion, there could be another, he couldn't stay here. He slogged on the uneven ground, scraping his frayed shoes, and made his way out, his steps frail and shaky.

A group in hooded jackets and grinning masks fired their rifles at the stampeding crowd, the muzzles flashing and dancing amidst the mayhem. People wailed, screeched, and crushed those who fell; they killed more than the aimless bullets. The entertainment venues, the tall buildings, became their safe zones though, as they rammed in through the bolted doors. Some failed at the last step and their blood and gore painted the entrance…

"Ladies and gentlemen, please do not panic." A man with the same grinning mask stood on an overturned stall and spoke in a loudspeaker. His voice bounced off the glass buildings and barreled far. "We are not your enemy; we are your savior. If you are a human, you have nothing to worry about. We are here to exterminate the fast-growing parasites, the monsters among us. We will not hurt you."

Ewan backed away and hid behind the intact wall of the coliseum. The situation was worse than he imagined, especially for him because he was one of the 'monsters' the bastard talked about. The rifles tingled his sense of danger, the bullets they belched could hurt him. These group of nutjobs could kill him if he wasn't careful.

"Anyone who joins our noble cause will be rewarded. Any human who kills a parasite or captures one will be rewarded." The man hollered away on the loudspeaker.

Ewan ignored the chaos outside and trudged towards the other side of the coliseum, leaving a trail of blood behind—this exit was a no go, he could only try the other one. Iris had already healed some of his wounds, but he was still dripping blood from the major ones. The explosion had ripped his skin and muscles apart, it wasn't as easy to heal as a straight cut.

Mutilated limbs, ripped organs, bloody guts, and crushed heads lined his path. Each step fell on pools of blood and gore, but he overlooked them and raised his head, inhaling lungfuls. He had to, if not, he would break down here. The thick smell of iron mixed with ammonia didn't excite his bestial instincts this time, instead it rang the alarm in his mind.

He brought out both Frost and Orange. The two screeched and snarled when they saw his state, but he calmed them down with a word and got them into position. Orange led the way while Frost, now taller than Ewan's knees, defended his back, his tail swaying left and right as he walked with caution. They crossed the arena in the center instead of going around, jumped over the small fences, and reached the exit. This area looked almost the same as the other exit, broken and crumbling, there had been another explosion here.

The sound of firing became louder as Ewan inched closer to the cracked door. They even came to this side, he sighed and stopped. Even though Frost could defend him with ice shields, it would still be a risk if he went out as he was. And he couldn't stay in this coliseum either, it wasn't a good place to hide. Once they surrounded him in this open and flat area and blocked the exits, he would have to forfeit his life.

If he could cast the spell he was practicing since last week, it might increase his chances at survival. He hid by the side of a pillar and flipped through his Spellbook, crunching the leaves.

This was the second spell he chose to focus on; it was of the blood element and had a good span of potential—a low minimum point, and a high maximum point, like <Ice Daggers>. But his success rate with it had been abysmal so far. The only saving grace was that the spell was continuous. Once the spell circuit glimmered in his soul space, it could stay active for a period, which depended on the caster.

He failed on his first attempt, and he groaned. The second, third, and the fourth trial failed too. The pain distracted him, he couldn't concentrate on the spell circuit; the technical curves eluded him. He took deep breaths and sat with his back to the wall. Orange and Frost guarded him, Iris healed him, while he traced the circuit.

After several tries, the success finally came, the circuit glinted with Blood-Anima, and with it came the short-lived exhilaration.

Blood Rein!

Blood floated out of his wounds to his extended palm and gathered into a blob. Ewan's bloodless face paled even more, his hands trembled, his vision blurred then cleared. His old acquaintance, hypovolemia, was back again. But he couldn't do anything about it this time. The spell needed either his or his Astylind's blood. It was an easy choice for the already bleeding him.

The crimson wriggling blob of blood was now an adult's head size. Even with his increased vitality, it was a lot of blood. A necessary sacrifice for survival though, he had no qualms about it.

And the blob floated in front of Ewan, connected to his soul.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 0.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 72
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-37 Rest

The dizziness held him down, but Ewan rattled his head and resisted, and the walls supported him as he went out of the coliseum. His intention wasn't to fight, it was to survive. Thus, he broke into a run as soon as he exited, racing away from the crazies. The jerks from the dash sent waves of pain down his body, but he bore it, he had no other choice.

Iris grabbed his hair and withstood the hissing wind while Orange and Frost matched his sprint.

A couple from the masked group turned to fire towards him; the muzzle belched. Ewan molded his blob of blood into a concaved shield and blocked it all, covering Orange and Frost too as they bolted. The bullets rained on the blood shield, the endless patters drowned his heaves, but the salvo couldn't penetrate, they couldn't even dent it. Yet, the fireworks of bullets sang an ominous melody, it would be life-threatening if it continued.

"Found one here!" One of the masked men yelled.

Ewan ignored the increasing aggro and barreled down the street to the nearest building, the game arcade. The number of people outside had decreased, breathing people, so Ewan became an easy target among the fallen.

The blood shield protected Ewan and his Astylinds and let him to reach the arcade building unscathed. Orange sprung ahead and pulverized the blockaded gate with his explosive punches while Frost erected a large but immobile ice wall behind them. It would take some time for those outside to break this wall down and get in.

A large hall with ticket counters followed the entrance gate. White-tiled walls with dried streaks of mop, a red carpet with muddy footprints, and a large modernistic chandelier dangling from the ceiling. People huddled together in the corner, screaming, their faces bloodless. Some broke down in tears and snot, some screeched and crawled away when the gate broke.

The moment Ewan entered; a heavy stench of urine bombarded his nose. Someone peed in here, and it was more than one bladder. Ewan held his breath and vaulted over the security gate. This was the ground floor of the gaming arcade, a floor for physical games.

Lift's door was ajar with fingerprint smudges on its edges struggling for purchase, and the lights were off. Its control panel was dark too. So, he climbed the stairs, skipping steps, floor after floor, and soon reached the top floor—the tenth floor—with his heartbeat calmer than he was. This floor had restaurants and fast-food joints lining the sides, this was the food court. Overturned chairs, flipped tables, broken menu boards, food spilled everywhere on the ground, and grease fire blazed unattended. The masks hadn't reached here, yet the chaos had descended… After he punched the emergency button for the fire extinguishers, as the white sprayed down on the dancing flames, he wandered away. The sound of his clacking boots echoed on the empty floor, and his quiet breaths hummed with it.

Soon the smell of freshly baked bread grabbed him, a welcome change from the stench of gore. There was a bakery up ahead, its inside intact save for the shattered glass door, its frame dangling by the hinge. This was a good place to rest and heal. The glass shards crunched and screeched when he walked in.

The people hiding on the lower floors might satiate the masked group's bloodthirst. And if they came here even after that, Ewan would have a choice of either fighting back or fleeing through the roof. His enhanced physique would help him in this.

"Keep watch," he said to Orange and Frost, and chugged down the chilled water he took out from the fridge, the glass bottles clattering when he shut it. He also poured some on his face and head, drenching Iris too who shivered from the deluge of icy water.

…..

The intermittent explosions rattled the cutlery and shook the furniture. Ewan shielded the savory buttered garlic bread from the concrete powder and dust falling down the ceiling and tore a mouthful. He'd stored all the fresh bread from the curved glass display counter in his claw-ring and was now balancing the comfy chair on its rear, his legs stretched up on the table.

Iris had already healed all his major wounds and was now wheezing inside the blood rune, leaving the minor wounds to heal on their own. Frost kept a diligent watch near the door, his tail held still, while Orange swung on the chandelier. Toast too was out of the wheel tattoo, wincing from their shared pain at times, and nibbled his own bread on Ewan's stomach, leaving crumbs on his tattered sweatshirt and inner t-shirt.

Another explosion went off and cracks raced on the glass counter, the decorative painting fell from the wall, baring several holes that were trials for the final nail that held it. Ewan shook his head and clicked his tongue, how did these people get so many first-degree contrabands anyway, it was beyond him. The only theory that could explain the current situation was that someone supported these masked people, someone powerful enough to get them these weapons. This also explained why there had been no response from the law enforcers so far, the crazy black suits were unusually quiet, given the situation. The masked people were having a picnic today, free and unfettered, at the expense of other people's lives.

Ewan chuckled; it wasn't like he had the right to judge them. The blood and gore might've fazed him, but the deaths didn't. Now that he was calm, he found himself unfeeling of the massacre. His survival was his only concern.

He savored another bite and connected to the hub using the connector. Obria was a mess and he needed to know why. The price for Obria's information was one Novas, much cheaper than any other information listed. And once he read the paid content, the reason justified it.

'Political unrest. The Crown might be dead. New update coming soon.'

His connection cut and he lurched forward on the chair, the front legs thudding down, startling Toast—the tiny bit of news shocked him.

Vidovik was dead, since when? And who controlled the colony then… He wanted some answers from the hub, yet it saw him off with more questions instead. It could be the defense force that ruled the colony now, as the second most powerful force after the Crown. There might've been a coup in Obria that the public didn't know about, or they faced an external threat that had destroyed the colony's structure...

There were some signs of instability in the colony in the recent years, give or take five years. Risen prices, increased violence, decreased security, higher death rate. But he always took it as bad management, everyone did. Who knew, things were this bad. Now the attack from the masked group didn't look so mysterious. It must be a political move; someone wanted the colony to fall into chaos.

He leaned back and pondered. If the situation could reach this level, an open massacre with no response from the law enforcers, was staying in the colony worth it? But he only had his one home. Where would he go if not here? His Pa must've left him that huge basement to turn it into an earning source. Ewan planned to modify a part of it into a garden once he came back from his hunt. He could grow herbs and plants needed for potions and sell them for a profit. Yet, the current situation shook his plans.

Ewan sighed. He needed to think more about this decision. For now, getting out of this mess came first.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 71
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-38 Soul

The screams and the salvo of bullets ripped the silence apart, they were near. Ewan stretched his limbs, popped his neck, and got ready to head out; his choice was to fight back. Toast went back into the tattoo and Orange and Frost took their position as vanguards. Though Iris healed most of his wounds, Ewan still lacked blood and didn't want to use <Blood Rein> yet. So, he picked up the dark-brown tower shield with a chunky layer of ice on the outer surface and moved it around to acquaint his hand with it. It would protect him from the bullets while he commanded his Astylinds, or at least he hoped it would. The ice layer that Frost created was for insurance; in case it couldn't.

The trio moved away from the bakery and to the stairs. Ewan thudded the one Novas shield before the narrow stair opening, its curved edges keeping it up, and hid behind the wall by the side with Orange and Frost. One after another, the burst of discharge snuffed the screams on the floor below, and some steps came closer when quiet descended. They were moving up and it was more than one person.

A bout of hysterical cackle followed a barrage of bullets. Ewan released a quiet breath and took out his 'Obsidian Dagger' as the bullet shower chipped and shredded the ice layer on the shield, pushing it back, the wood scraping the tiled floor with a groan. Ice shards scattered about, some pecked Ewan, most wet the stairs.

The sound of rifles raced in sync. Ewan counted and presumed, also factoring in the sound of steps. There were three people, all firing at the same time. He waited for them to stop, and soon they did. They were now reloading.

Go!

Ewan grabbed the shield with his left hand, dagger in his right, and dove down the stairs. Orange and Frost followed suit.

"Fuck!!" One of the masked men screamed. The other two backed away from Ewan's path, but he hammered one down to the floor with the shield, using all his strength to crush him under.

Throat!!

Orange blasted towards one of the masked men, the step below him blackened and cracked. The man made no moves, he stood frozen, as his eyes reflected the little monkey and his feral grin. Orange used his explosive Fire-Anima and clobbered his throat.

"Hel…" His neck exploded into blood and gore with the boom ripping half his face apart before his word ended. It painted the walls red with gooey pieces of muscles, bones, and brain sliding down. His lifeless and headless body plopped down as the stench of burnt skin and blood wafted.

While Orange completed his kill, Frost had already hurled and jammed an icicle in the second masked-man's throat who fumbled and dropped the rifle's magazine. He gurgled and reached for his neck with trembling hands, his body twitched, and he collapsed. His death was far less gory, but he died, nonetheless. Ewan too stabbed the man he was suppressing, reaching from the side of the shield. But he missed the throat and stabbed his shoulder instead.

The man screamed and wrestled. He heaved the shield up, but Ewan held it down with all his might and then some. He shanked the dagger out and knifed again without aiming. This time it was the side of his chest; it plunged in his lungs.

The masked man gasped for breath, his inhales ending in whistles.

Die already!

Ewan flung the shield aside and pushed the dagger in his throat with a grunt, all his weight behind the stab. Warm blood splattered on his contorted face, some got in his mouth. The taste of iron… His eyes gleamed green for a second but faded away soon. This was not the time to let his instincts run amuck—he reined it in.

The man died and Ewan rolled to the side, heaving for air. He didn't move much in this fight yet was already out of breath, and his heart pounded. His face was feverish, the ceiling blurred, and his throat parched; it stung when he gulped.

Orange, with not a hint of blood on him, ran to Ewan and hopped on his chest, up and down, screeching.

"Yeah, you did good," Ewan said with a smile and patted his head, his breath slowing down.

Frost?

He sensed extreme hunger from Frost. The little imp stood beside the corpses, staring at them, his intense emotions flooding Ewan's senses.

You want to eat them?

Souls, Frost gave a vague reply through their connection. After a moment of thought, Ewan agreed. Frost grabbed at the air above the corpses and stuffed the empty hand in his mouth. Only a few minutes later, after Frost relished and digested it all, Ewan sensed its effects. He grew stronger; he verged on the Level-2 barrier now.

Was it a Demon thing? Orange didn't react to it, so it should be.

Ewan frowned and mulled; he should change his plans. He wanted to stay on this floor until the mayhem settled down and only fight back when they came for him. Because fighting them didn't benefit him in any way. But Frost changed things. If he could grow by eating souls, the current situation would become an all-you-can-eat buffet for him. And this was a special case—the law wouldn't punish Ewan for killing them. It shouldn't….

"They're the ones attacking. I'm only defending myself…." he muttered.

The rifles could make it easier for him to fight back; he picked one up and checked. Alas, the biometric lock nulled his idea, he threw it away with a defeated sigh as its plastic stock cracked on the marbled steps. It also killed his budding plan of disguising as one of them in its infancy. The lack of a rifle could give him away, and if he carried one anyway, the red light on the trigger would be his doom.

So, after the body check of the three dead ones didn't bear fruit, he moved on.

The shield held tight in his left hand, he edged down the stairs to the floor below, his supple joints silencing his movements. His knuckles had turned white, and sweat drenched his hair, rolling down his temples. Orange and Frost were once again the vanguards, they mimicked Ewan and moved without any noise.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 70
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-39 Gore [Part I]

Bullet holes riddled the electronic game units, arcs of current sparking out. Bloodied corpses lay cold on the floor, their bodies shredded apart. Some died from bullets, some from a blade. Their blood and organs painted the floor red; their guts had spilled over. Ewan crouched and threaded, the pool of gore reflecting his aghast face and the gulp down his throat, blood smearing the hem of his cargo with each step. There was a thick smell of metal in the air once again. He should've been numb to it by now, but he wasn't, even his excited bestial instincts couldn't suppress the dread of death that plunged into him with each heave.

So many died, what were the chances of him surviving… Now that the adrenaline wore off, he faced the reality. The only difference was that they were Kyrons, and he wasn't.
Right, he wasn't a Kyron anymore, he was stronger than them, he repeated. Drops of sweat rolled down his temples, he rubbed the itch with his shoulders and took deep breaths.

Orange scouted the path ahead while Frost covered his back. Ewan wished the enemies would come and distract him already. But the floor was haunted quiet besides the frigid bodies who stared at him with their gaping eyes, and they invited him to join them.

…..

Fuck!

Ewan froze in his tracks, resisting a shiver.

Halfway down the stairs to the next floor, a longsword pinned a child to the wall through his bloodied teddy bear, a child who'd barely learned to run… He and his plush toy dangled from the blade, lifeless. The blunt strikes on the pommel had cracked and flattened it; they must've hammered the sword through the child's chest. His eyeballs almost popped out and tears from the ripped socket dried on his cheeks; his mouth lay open, and his tongue hung loose. Thick blood oozed down his shoes on the face of the woman lying below, her throat slit and swollen, and tears and snot smudging her makeup. It must be his mother; she carried a dirt-and-blood smeared cotton candy that used to be white…

If these masked men were trying to scare people, they sure had some effective means. Ewan took deep breaths again and continued down the stairs, avoiding the gaze of the bloodied yet smiling teddy.

The floor below was the inflatable playground for children with bouncy castles. And finally, some enemies to kill. The playgrounds sprawled airless, the bullets and the blades had torn them apart. Three masked men stood with their backs to the stairs. One hacked a corpse with an axe, while the other stood around him, rifles hanging from their shoulders.

"Let's go already," one of the three said.

"Wait a bit," another said as he chopped down the axe again, breathless and panting, each lungful of air grinding in his throat. Blood from the dead body sprayed on his already drenched red mask. The other two stepped back and shook their heads.

Orange and Frost could kill two, but the third was the problem. They were too far and in the open for Ewan to move in close without alerting them. He had no choice, he had to use his spell.

Blood Rein!

It took him several tries, but he succeeded before the three finished their butchery. The obsidian dagger slit his wrist and the spell circuit took the blood away. The crimson blob floated before him, connected to his soul. The dizziness assaulted him again, his vision blurred too, but he was familiar with it now, he could handle the side effects. Iris came out of the vortex and dove into his hair while he aimed at the masked men's back from the stairs end. She healed his cut and he focused. This spell too didn't have the targeting mechanism, but it gave him full control.

The blob of blood wriggled. Ewan held his breath and shot three thin sharp vines from it. They slithered close to the floor; the blood vines ran against the blood pools on the ground, it was hard to notice them. The three vines zipped away and lanced the three men through their backs and out their chests. The two groaned and clutched the vines with trembling hands. The axe clanked on the floor, and the third reached for his chest.

Ewan pulled the vines back out, and blood gushed out from their gaping and pulsating wounds. The men collapsed on their knees, gasping for air, hacking, puking blood. The vines slid around them, and as Ewan gestured, skewered their jaws and exited their skulls. They fell over, their chests stopped moving. Blood pooled under them, and they joined the plethora of corpses strewn across the floor.

Ewan exhaled the long-held breath through his mouth. This was easy, far too easy. He stared at the red blob that regained its initial size when the vines came back and merged in. These Kyrons weren't his match when he could use his spells, even with their contrabands. As they said, he really was a monster for them.

…..

Frost broke through the barrier once he ingested the three new souls; he was now Level-2. While he savored the growth, Orange glared at him from Ewan's head, pulling and chewing his hair, screeching at times. After Ewan calmed him down with flowery promises for the future, he searched the place inside out, though there were little places on this open floor that could hide anyone. And indeed, corpses and more gory and grisly corpses were all he found. He didn't avoid them but instead walked closer and met their lifeless eyes. A meaningless act yet he persisted to become numb to these deaths. The dead were powerless, his mind knew it, he wanted his body to know it too.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 0.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-2] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 70
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-40 Gore [Part II]

The next couple of floors were all the same; mauled bodies strewn around; walls painted in blood. Yet no enemies came in sight. On the next floor, the fifth floor, Ewan finally found two masked men. Their masks rested on their heads, and they puffed their cigarettes, sitting on the clean floor by the pillar-turned-beehive with bullets, their victims keeping them company. Their rifles were by their sides, and they chatted and cackled.

Ewan hid behind the wall near the stairs, peeking at these two and panning his eyes around to confirm whether they were the only ones here. The several pillars dividing this floor into areas hindered him though—they hid many sections.

A young female staff of the gaming arcade, in their usual frilled sky-blue sleeveless shirt and mini black skirt uniform, hid under an unused pool table in the corner across Ewan. She'd curled up, hugged her knees, and covered her mouth as she shivered. Concrete dust whitened her long black hair, and she smothered her cough from time to time. When Ewan saw her, she met his eyes too. She mouthed 'help' as her tears drenched her already sweaty and pale face, her mascara running down.

Ewan gestured her a 'wait' sign and racked his brain. No matter how much he thought about it, only one plan was feasible in this scenario. It was the most efficient plan he could think of. So, he carried it out.

Frost froze a red pebble from the blood around and hurled it towards the hiding woman. It clattered on the floor near her and echoed in the hall. She gasped, her face paled even more, and her eyes widened as she stared at Ewan. The noise alerted the two chatting masked men and drew them in.

Only two?

All the groups he met so far had three people…

One masked man walked out from the other side of a pillar, zipping his fly. They were three now.

"Another one?" the man asked while moving the belt of his trousers around.

"This one's mine," one of the smoking men said, grinning and biting the cigarette butt.

"Sure, if it's a dude." The other two cackled.

"Fuck off," he said and crouched by the table. "Hey missy, come out. We won't hurt you." He blew the smoke to the side and reached for her. The young woman screamed and backed off, but the wall behind blocked her. She rattled her head and pleaded in a mosquito voice.

Frost, take them out.

The timing was good, she'd grabbed their attention. Frost walked out from where they hid and bolted towards the men. By the time they reacted and turned around, they were already in his range. He waved his hand and ice spikes jerked out from the ground. The spikes sieved the three, mangling their bodies. They died with a grunt, their limbs and necks hung lifeless. Blood streamed down the ice spikes, turning them red. Soon the trickling blood drips froze and turned into long red crystals.

The woman screeched and crawled away from the scene. Ewan went to help her up, but she shrieked again and backed away from him.

"No!!" she yelled and bawled.

Ewan frowned and stood back. He didn't understand what scared her so much. Was it his Astylinds? Was it him killing the men? Or was it because he used her as bait? Even if he did so, he still saved her life. That was the most efficient plan he could think of at that moment; the bait was necessary. He could take the three out with his spells, but it had higher risks and would shorten the precious activation period of his <Blood Rein>. This way, she distracted them while Frost took them out in one strike.

He shook his head and walked away. "Ungrateful bitch," he muttered. He didn't want to help her anymore. She would become a burden anyway.

That one act drained Frost of his Anima, so Ewan handed him a small white Anima-Crystal and searched the floor, leaving the woman alone. The blob of blood floated ahead of him; his mind ready to mold it if a threat emerged. Yet only the cold corpses greeted him again. Nothing new on this floor either. It was becoming rather monotonous, so he moved down to the next floor.

…..

Six muzzles belched fireballs as the bombardment of bullets rained down on Ewan's shield. Sparks crackled all around him, the shield held itself against the attack. The bright display of fire from the six men shooting in a crescent moon formation made for a dazzling and beautiful scene, but Ewan couldn't appreciate it, being on the receiving end. He didn't even have the time to check out the floor before these six spotted him coming down the stairs and opened fire. Unlike the first three he met, these six alternated. One fired while the other reloaded, the salvo never stopped. How many fucking bullets they lugged anyway…

Ewan didn't wait for their ammo to finish; it was too risky. He commanded Frost while preparing his blood blob to finish them off. He couldn't see his targets from behind the tower shield, so he had to take a roundabout route.

Frost, also hiding behind the shield, touched the ground with pools of blood all around. After a moment, he pushed all his Anima into the spell and chilled the floor. And the blood red pools froze. The ice sprinted from Frost's hand and fanned out in a circle, cracking and popping. Ewan shivered from the drop in temperature, his heaves steamed.

"What the fuck!!"

"Shit!"

The men yelled and cursed and stopped firing. They twisted and snapped their frozen shoes from the ground and backed off. But they all lost their footing on the slippery surface. Some fired while they thumped on their asses, creating a trail of bullet holes up to the ceiling.

While they groaned and writhed on the floor, Ewan sent several pointy thin vines from his blood blob up to the ceiling and had them zip down at random. The vines plunged, and deathly grunts of men followed. Ewan peeked at the small bamboo forest of red vines ahead and checked whether they were all dead. Two were still alive and wriggling, so he controlled a couple of vines and stabbed them again. Since he could see them, his target was spot on, and the floor fell silent—the remaining two also died.

The continuous firing left Ewan's ears buzzing, his forearm ached, and his skin had reddened. He snapped his frozen boots off the ground and sat on the side leaning on the wall, massaging his temples and his arm.

Frost enjoyed the buffet of souls; one by one he stuffed them in his mouth. After he digested them all, he once again approached the boundary of the next level, Level-3. Ewan smiled when he sensed it.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Injured | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.0

Anima: [Fire – 4.0 | Ice – 4.0 | Blood – 4.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-2] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 70
Sol: 25

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-41 Ruined Birthday

The conflict ended with the dimming dusk. Ewan limped out of the game arcade as the reddish-orange sky purpled—the color of an old bruise. His leaden eyelids weighed down, and grime and dried blood marks smeared his face. No law enforcers were in sight, only death was, but his nose had long gone numb to the stench of their blood and gore.

The exploded craters smoked and smelled of rotten eggs, and mutilated charred bodies hilled on the streets. The burnt crisp tree cracked and fell over with a gust of wind, its embers and ashes swirled in the air. The redness of blood paled and faded on the fake snow, barely deigning to reflect the setting sun. The once famous Frosthelm festival was now a blood festival. Only the shredded decoratives remained as a remembrance of the jolly laughs and the cackles of the children.

A young man in a tattered shirt hanging by his shoulders trudged out of the crumbling building on the side, hacking his lungs out. Several of its floors were up in raging flames, it was on the verge of collapse; the deathly creaks of its pillars announced its end. A hare with patches of brown and dark red fur, or was it dried blood, hopped before him, both facing Ewan. He gripped a cleaver, his knuckles turning white, while the hare snarled at Ewan, its ruby eyes reflecting his weary image.

"I'm not an enemy," Ewan said in a low volume, taking slow breaths through his mouth, his eyes drooping. His aching muscles killed him, his throat was on fire, and his wounds, both bullet and blade bitten, stung. The strenuous and protracted fight had left him sapped, there were just too many of them on the ground floor.

"Proof," the man said in a hoarse voice, smothering his cough, stepping away from the blazing building.

Ewan sighed and brought Orange out from the rune. The little monkey clawed his way onto his head and snuggled in his hair, whimpering as he rubbed the bleeding bullet wound on his thigh.

Don't touch it, you'll make it worse.

Orange cried once and stopped.

The man released a long breath and collapsed on the ground, the hare hopping back and licking his face.

"Have you checked the trams?" Ewan asked.

"No." The man shook his head, hacking again, retching blobs of blood.

Ewan picked up a piece of cracked wood and crutched his worn-out body to the tracks, minding the splinters. There was no tram there. But if he followed the tracks and got out of this area, he could find one. The end of conflict meant the attackers died. And since there was no intervention from the law enforcers, it must've been the Severynths in the area who ended it. Ewan didn't want to get involved in the mess that would follow soon. So, he chose the direction of his home and trekked along the tracks, leaving the chaos behind.

"Let's attend the festival, what could possibly go wrong. Motherfuckers! Bitches ruined my birthday," he muttered amidst the clank of his crutch on the paved pathway. "Couldn't even eat the fucking cake!" Iris strived to heal his wounds, wrapping her roots around the tiny red Anima Crystal.

This attack put him on yellow alert. There was a threshold in the stages of Ashevas before which they were still vulnerable against Kyrons and their weapons. He now wanted to cross that threshold as soon as possible and have some security inside the walls. Even if the situation of the colony destabilized further, he would have the option to leave the place safely.

…..

The first night of his return brought Nana rushing to his doorsteps again, freaking out over the news of the massacre and his injuries. She had Luna heal him over and over again even when he said he didn't need it, the repeated usage sapped the poor bird, and she only left when he pushed her out. After so many years, even when life shattered her, she still retained those stubborn cells…

And the fourth dawn delivered Ewan the property deeds and the inheritance Sols; he became rich overnight. But the Kyron currency concerned him no more.

The bright and glossy basement walls mirrored the world inside. Still cold but not frosty, the temperature rose by the day. Greenbirth—the months of life would follow soon. Segregated from the outside world by the mystical door his father had created, he was safe here. From training to breaking through barriers to brewing potions, this place was his retreat.

Frost trained in a corner with snowflakes swirling around him, his arms stretched out to the sides, his eyes closed, his tail bending and swaying. While Orange played tag with Toast, dashing all over the basement, yet sneaked a glare at the little imp from time to time, the orange fire on his forehead flickering.

Ewan had a long list of work he planned to do in the coming days, most of which involved potion brewing. Before he could start with any though, the pestering monkey made him choose his Anima Potion. His intention to battle it out with Frost brimmed and spilled. To save his hair and cheeks, Ewan agreed and procured the needed ingredients—Astylind Core of the relevant element and the blood of the same.

The fire based Aennon solution dissolved the core, and the addition of blood made it boil. The beaker heated up and the orange liquid inside steamed with popping bubbles. This was his fifth trial, and success finally knocked on his door. Even though this potion had the same ingredients as the one he brewed for his 'Elementalist Physique', it still took him several attempts to increase his proficiency. The nuance in the use of his spirit and the difference of catalysts and stabilizers made it so.

"Hot! Hot!"

His face crunched in pain. Ewan juggled the searing potion vial between his hands, blowing on it to cool it down, sweat dripping down his nose. Did he make a mistake using a Level-3 Core and blood? It could be too much… He licked the salty sweat on his lips and wondered whether Orange could absorb so much Fire-Anima at once.

To be on the safe side, though, it was better to have Orange consume the potion in two parts. The little monkey jumped and complained when Ewan disturbed his tag game but rushed over with Toast in tow after he told him about the Anima Potion.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [2nd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.3

Spirit: 4.3

Anima: [Fire – 4.3 | Ice – 4.3 | Blood – 4.3]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [2nd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-D]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-D]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-1] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 59
Sol: 5025

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-42 Ryvia

Ewan, Frost, Toast, and Iris stood around Orange as he winced on the floor after drinking the first half of the potion. The Fire-Anima raged around him, the air distorted, and scorching wind blasted against the four. Embers flew about, sparks hopped around. Toast clawed his way up on Ewan's shoulders and snuggled and whimpered as his fur singed, while Iris bundled herself in his hair. Ewan consoled his little kitten and his little lotus and stared at Orange, gulping to wet his throat. Frost remained still and eyed the monkey, ready on Ewan's orders to help in case something went wrong.

Soon Orange reached the boundary of Level-2 and a few moments later blasted through the layer. The flickering fire on his forehead erupted for a second with ribbons of blue flames reaching twice his height then calmed down and turned back orange. The fiery wind also settled down and the abundant Fire-Anima scattered. Before giving in to the glee of success, Ewan checked Orange from head to toe for any injuries. His pulse raced but remained under normal levels. There were no injuries mentioned in the <Identify> spell either. His connected senses also gave a green light.

Ewan heaved a sigh of relief, crouching on the floor with his head down. Orange opened his eyes and screeched at Frost; the little imp glared back.

"Not yet," Ewan said and pushed the two apart. The other part of the potion remained.

…..

Ewan toiled for the next week and brewed one potion after another. The experience of each brew nudged his proficiency and increased his success rate. But not before he spent almost all his Novas on the trials. He still had Anima Crystals though, a lot of them, so the spending didn't worry him much.

Red for blood, white for ice, and brown for wood—he had three types of Anima Crystals. Brown was useless to him while he didn't need as many reds and whites. Converting all browns and most reds and whites through the hub-connector netted him 296 Novas, an amount that could last him a long while. Sustenance before sourcing the earnings was not a problem with such numbers.

….

'The higher the soul essence the violent the breakthrough. It's better to not have your Astylinds around.' Ewan fiddled with the page while rereading the sentences he'd already read several times. His leveled up and upgraded Astylinds—both Frost and Orange joining the ranks of Iris in Grade-C—trained on their own as he skimmed the journal in the basement corner. The cold wall chilled his back at first then his body warmed the wall.

Third awakening, he had the butterflies when he thought of it. It was the threshold he'd been waiting for. The increased feedback from his Astylinds pushed him to the boundary, 4.9, now only a thin layer stopped him from moving forward. Only the 'violent breakthrough' part in the journal worried him. Nonetheless he had to cross the bridge, there was no other way around.

After a long deep breath, he put the journal back in the claw-ring, his Astylinds went inside the runes, and he sat in the middle of the basement. Cross-legged and his eyes closed, his palms stacked at his navel, he focused on his soul space. 'Spirit like ripples', once again he plucked the pool of spirit, creating waves after waves. The pool surged and roared; the oscillations rampaged in his soul space.

The barrier crumbled under the constant barrage, it tore the layer down, and his spirit thrashed around before calming down. Yet, it was only the quiet before the storm. He'd completed his third awakening, but he didn't dare relax. The violent part had yet to happen. With the intense sweet smell and the feeling of liberation came the initiation of the new innate skill, Ryvia—the spirit interference.

Ewan bloated. His spirit ran amuck throughout his body. It expanded, tearing his skin and muscles from inside. His body tingled, and the itch just wouldn't go away, not that he had the leeway to scratch them. Ryvia would extend his spirit outside his body, so he had to tolerate the pain if he were to advance. He groaned and gritted his teeth. The agony had him moaning and chuckling at times. The tickling sweat drops rolling down his temples and cheeks snatched his attention and irritated him. But he bore through it all.

A thread of spirit finally popped out his forehead. It busted the dam and his spirit exploded away.

He growled and floated up in the air, his invisible spirit hurled the table away and it shattered at the wall. His pain toned down, and the sharp buzz muffled the world. Ewan looked down; he was hovering several feet above the floor. Some dispensable Potioneering tools he'd left on the table drifted around him, crunching, chipping, cracking, and snapping as his spirit distorted them, gravity giving them free rein.

This was Ryvia, the watershed that separated him from the Kyrons, and he crossed it.

The initial outburst kept him floating for a minute then eased him down. His eyelids were heavy, his limbs felt weak, the breakthrough and the initiation of the skill emptied him. The unending stairs to the surface then the prolonged path to the bedroom—the everyday distance had never looked this impervious before. He had no one who would scold him for where he slept anyway, so he took out a thick quilt from his claw-ring and lay where he stood, drifting off to the world of dreams. Only the echoes of his soft wheezes meandered in the basement.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 5.2

Anima: [Fire – 5.2 | Ice – 5.2 | Blood – 5.2]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 319
Sol: 4999

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-43 Spells

Ice Daggers!

The razor-sharp ice dagger floated before Ewan, its spell circuit empowering his Ryvia. He shot it at the wall but braked before they kissed. The dagger hovered on his command and snaked back to him, circling around. He repeated the process, once, twice, thrice, until it became his muscle memory. The dagger zipped around the basement at his will, getting faster and swifter as he became well versed in it.

The constant use of Ryvia strained him, even with the spell's enforcement. His face flushed red; his neck tightened and quivered; his veins bulged on his forehead. He was at his limit, so the ice dagger followed the last route and shattered against the wall.

Ewan collapsed on the floor, panting when his eventual heave broke the dam. Frost and Orange both raced to him from where they were training, or supposed to be, and handed him a chilled bottle of water, glaring at each other. He accepted both bottles and gulped them together, most spilled out and wetted his already sweat-drenched t-shirt. He'd rather do this than deal with a sulking Frost or a hair-pulling Orange.

The moment they were at the same level, their fight had begun again, Ewan was helpless. And Toast meowed from the side.

Little fucker…

He could feel the little kitten's amusement at his plight, so he poured water over him. Toast sprung back, screeching, then bit his t-shirt, wrestling to tear it. His growls were tiny purrs, childlike, and it made Ewan smile.

"Only Iris is a good girl."

The little lotus bud bunking on the books swayed, left and right and left, her glee passing through to Ewan. It annoyed the other three though, and they jumped on him together.

…..

Hub-Stratum.

Ewan wandered the crammed night streets of the hub as a spirit blob, a bigger-than-before spirit blob, window shopping, panning his eyes. He looked down on the smaller spirit blobs at times while giving way for the larger ones, especially the humanoids. His target was a shop selling spells, it was one of the cheapest and the nearest. He wanted to buy a spell that would complement his <Transmute> spell. It was better to prepare early.

His grown spirit supported his stroll, and he reached the intended shop with ease. The navigation ended there.

"Hello, anyone in?" he asked. The shop was empty except for the counter bar, it didn't even have an automated worker. The black swirls on the white walls and the ceiling attracted him though. His own shop could use such designs.

"Just a second," someone said. A tiny black blob rose from behind the counter a few seconds later. It was almost the size of Ewan's spirit blob when he first came to the hub.

"'Lens' spell, how much is it?" Ewan asked.

"That's…uh…ten…Novas?" the blob said…or asked.

"Too expensive," Ewan said. "Make it two."

"I…I…Its too low…," he said in a mosquito voice. "At least five."

"Three, and I'll buy something else from you."

The spirit blob hovered behind the counter; the shop fell quiet. "Fine," he finally said. "What do you want to buy?"

"Show me your fire spells," Ewan said.

"Wait a few." The blob hovered down again, searching, the items clattered about.

"How'd you manage a shop like this? How long can you stay connected anyway?" Ewan asked, floating around the shop, admiring the artistic designs.

"I try to be here as much as I can." The muffled voice came from behind the counter. "I only disconnect and rest when I can't hold on."

"Why not buy a worker?"

"Can't, they cost too much."

Ewan hummed in response. "So, you have an inheritance?" he asked.

The blob flinched, and the items stopped moving with a burst of final clatter. The shop fell silent once more.

"Sorry, not trying to pry or anything, just curious. You're still too weak to be selling these stuffs."

"My…mother. I…inherited from her," the spirit blob said and resumed his search.

"You have a good mother then, cherish her," Ewan said.

"Not really…," the blob said under his breath. He brought out a few pages with different spells' summaries and spread them on the counter. "Here you go."

"I'm Ewan, what's yours?" Ewan checked the pages one by one.

"…Avis," the blob said.

Ewan froze on the reply, for it was a girl's name, at least Obria treated it as such.

"My mother named me; she wanted a girl…." His voice dimmed down again.

Ewan refrained from commenting and focused on the spells. Fireball, Bullets, Fireflies, Ignite. And the last one was 'Boom'…

"It's a good spell, don't mind the name," Avis said.

Ewan skimmed the summaries—Fireball and Bullets were simple projectile spell, quality versus quantity; Fireflies was a ranged and reactive area-of-effect spell with good tactical value; Ignite was a close-range utility spell, unfit for combat; and 'Boom' was a special spell whose damage depended on the material used.

"Is this all you have?" Ewan asked.

"You need something specific?" Avis asked.

"Not really, no. How much?"

"Uh…six…each?"

"I'll give you five for Fireflies and 'Boom', and four for Fireball. Deal?" Ewan said.

The blob flickered without a word.

"You probably don't have much time. What do you say?"

"Fine," Avis said, his spirit blob faded a bit. "Here." He passed over the virtual contract that Airadia's sentience and the 'Ashevagord' authorized.

"One year? No way. I don't intend to sell your spells anyway but one year is a lot, brother. Make it three months," Ewan said.

"…Six, that's the lowest I can go."

Ewan agreed after mulling for a second. He stamped the modified contract with his identity in the hub, his Pa's actually, and received the copies of the spells after payment—seventeen Novas for four spells.

"I'll come again if I need something. You go back and rest now," Ewan said and left the shop.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 5.5

Anima: [Fire – 5.5 | Ice – 5.5 | Blood – 5.5]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 302
Sol: 4997

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-44 Boom

His Ryvia stretched to its limit around him, it fed back his perception. Ewan could see, hear, smell, and feel everything that happened in the zone.

Again.

Orange jumped into his spirit's range as his other Astylinds watched from the side. Ewan sensed his landing position and compressed the air with his Ryvia, fashioning an invisible platform that hovered above the ground. Orange alighted on it then blasted away with his explosive Anima. But the platform couldn't handle the recoil, it crumbled apart with a flash of fire. Orange crashed on the floor as Ewan grunted, the harsh feedback from his spirit stung him.

Luckily, the failure injured no one.

Again.

He created another base and condensed it with more spirit this time, his tensed hands trembled, the air distorted around the platform. Orange exploded away from it once again and succeeded this time. The platform still fell apart but not before supporting the little monkey's launch.

The success came after several attempts, after many trials and errors. But it wasn't at a practical level yet. At best, Ewan could allow Orange one extra movement in the air. It wasn't at the level where he could let the little monkey fight airborne, which was the result he hoped to get from this practice.

Again.

…….

Ewan sat in the middle of the basement, his eyes closed, his spirit interference driven to the max.

Toast meowed and paddled his feet as he drifted through the air, circling Ewan. Orange floated after Toast with breaststrokes, his tail swaying left and right, as if he could 'swim' faster that way. While Iris bounced up and down behind Ewan, rotating with her roots sprawled out.

Two birds with one stone—this was a good method to practice his Ryvia and keep his little monsters busy. Yet, an unseen and unexpected problem occurred once he lifted them all—Frost.

Unlike the other three, Frost hovered close to the ceiling, flailing about, panic written all over his face. His pointy tail had curled, his eyes teared up, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. Ewan had never seen Frost like this. Even at his worst, he only had childish fights with Orange. At his best, he wreaked havoc with his spells with a calm mien. But now….

"A Demon afraid of heights…," he said under his breath.

His Pa would've laughed his ass off if he knew about this, Ewan would never hear the end of that taunt. He needed to fix this, and he could only think of one method to do so. Overexposure led to numbness and desensitivity in relation to the specific aspect, Ewan already used this fact once when he faced the dead. Now, it was Frost's turn.

……

He started from a low altitude. A Kyron's jumping height—it didn't faze Frost, but his anxiety still passed on to Ewan.

"It'll be fine," Ewan said and focused on Ryvia. He couldn't afford any mistake right now.

A couple of inches higher and Frost's limbs trembled, his tail strained. Orange clutched his stomach and rolled on the floor, guffawing and cackling. The brat's childish bellows echoed and annoyed Ewan.

Toast…

Toast, Ewan's reinforcement, sauntered close to the little monkey and slapped him twice before racing away. Orange jolted up and chased after him.

Ewan heaved a sigh of relief from the dawn of quiet and attended to Frost.

"Just focus on me," he said. "Take it slow."

Inch by inch, he upped the height. Once Frost couldn't take it anymore, he brought him down and rewarded him with a pat and a smile and a sugary slice of cake with creamy frosting. A few minutes of rest later, he started again. Up, panic, down, praise and cake, and rest, Ewan repeated the process until Frost numbed to a height higher than before, albeit drained and aghast.

Step-0 wasn't Ewan's limit, he wouldn't let it, no matter how tough it was to advance. And the future of a Severynth included the open skies. Fear of heights was fatal to that future, he needed to fix it.

……

Fresh morning breeze caressed his skin with the sun clearing the distant fuzzy walls. His raven hair waved with it while he sat on the false chimney, admiring the view and fiddling with pebbles, his legs dangling in the air. His throat and lungs chilled with each inhale and warmed with the exhales. The basement had become his cave for days now, he only came up to do his daily business, so the gentle kiss of the early sun relaxed him.

The neighborhood was silent this morning, only the birds sang aloud. The ambience was of a holiday today, but he didn't recall his calendar marking this date. Being out of touch with society had its perks, but it also came with some negatives. Nonetheless, the negatives didn't concern him much since his Kyron life was behind him.

Boom…

He contained the embarrassment inside and hurled a pebble at the clear skies once the spell circuit glimmered in his soul space. The pebble shone an orange hue, it grew hotter and excited, and popped with a tiny fireball in the air. It scared the birds flying nearby and scattered their formation.

Ewan sighed. The spell was more than decent, depending on the material used, but the naming sucked. He'd already added the other spells he bought to his Spellbook; this was the only one left. And he hesitated on whether to change it. The spell wasn't his creation, so changing the name without consent was a form of disrespect; he didn't want to do it. But 'Boom' was really….

Forget it.

The name was only a shell, its core was the important part, and the spell excelled at that. At best he would never yell the spell name out loud…ever.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 6.0

Anima: [Fire – 6.0 | Ice – 6.0 | Blood – 6.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 302
Sol: 4987

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-45 Commotion

Dekoth.

Frost sauntered out of the soul vortex and stood beside Ewan on the chimney. His legs and tail trembled but he didn't scream. His small figure stared at the blue skies, Ice-Anima surging around. He clenched his fist, and his lust for battle peaked.

Ewan smiled at his progress, rubbed his head, and stroked his horn bumps. "Good boy," he said, and a vibration from his claw-ring distracted him. He frowned—it was the hub-connector.

He grabbed Frost with his Ryvia and floated down to the balcony, lying on the recliner. Frost stood by his side as a guard while he connected to the hub.

….

Hub-Stratum.

Ruckus from the market reverberated in his shop. The gathered crowd crammed the streets, their garbled chatters and screams resonating. Ewan also went out. A red hue had smeared the white streetlights today, and the paved streetways looked bloody. Ewan looked up at the source of this all; it was the huge crimson words hanging in the air, blood-red light oozing from it.

'Countdown: 100 Years!' it read.

"What's this? What's happening?" Ewan asked the same-sized spirit blob beside him.

"Fuck!" the spirit blob yelled. "No, look on the bright side, I'll have a better chance if I survive it," he murmured.

"I thought we had more time," another spirit blob said, triple the size of Ewan's.

"What is going on? What is that?" Some spirit blob asked, but no one answered.

"It was true…it was true…," someone else muttered.

Ewan looked around at the mixed horde of spirit blobs; some asked around like him, looking lost, while some trembled and mumbled. He would never get any answers from them, so he went inside the shop and opened the information screen.
He had a notification; the seller had updated the information about 'Obria'. But he ignored it for now and checked whether there was anything on the current situation—there was none. He frowned and checked the announcement screen. It had the same wine-red words displayed on top; 'Endorsed by Ashevagord' stamped on its side with their infamous '8' insignia that represented the 'Endless Helix'. The details came up once he touched it, it was for free too.

"Countdown has started: Airadia will become a Tier-3 Plane in a hundred years. Early preparation for the change advised."

…..

Ewan opened his eyes on the recliner and stared at the still visible but faint outline of the moons. Rumor said the number of moons represented the level of a plane. If the announcement was authentic and the rumor was valid, then there would be another moon a hundred years later. But what was the 'early preparation' about? And the way some spirit blobs talked; their words sounded ominous.

This was a big event, enough to terrify so many powerful spirit blobs and have the 'Ashevagord' announce it in that manner. And 'Tier-3' indicated it had happened before, so it should be in his journal.

Ewan took it out from the claw-ring and flipped to the parts he had only skimmed. Indeed, many of his ancestors had mentioned this, they all warned their next generation about the destruction it caused. The extreme cataclysmic seasons during the advancement could exterminate most of the plane's population, including Ashevas. The plane would flourish afterwards but not before the wave of cranage drowned it.

Hundred years…

An event that would happen a century later, it was an unfamiliar and unknown concept for Ewan. He chased after eternity but couldn't understand what it meant yet. Still, the severity of the situation was clear. Hundred years, he only had as much time to prepare for the disaster. But would reaching Step-1 be enough to survive? What about Step-2? The journal didn't answer him, he was on his own with this one. And it would be conjectures anyway, who could ever guarantee someone's life.

Let's take it step by step…

He would go as far as he could and prepare as much as he could. If he still died, then that would be it, that was all he was capable of. His death would be worth it; after all, he walked the path of his dreams.

…..

A sumptuous brunch later, stewed vegetables with bread and bland milk, Ewan revisited the hub—the notification remained on his mind and nagged him. The commotion outside had half died, but the bloody words still hung in the air, painting the hub in a gloomy hue.

Plethora of sellers crammed the information screen with their version of data about the recent announcements. Ewan could sell his too, but he wasn't willing to diverge information from his journal. He also used his Pa's identity here, that of Ulrath. Reckless display of that name without proper background knowledge might attract unwanted attention. If any of his Pa's old enemies came to him… It was better to run the shop and earn through it, he would remain anonymous that way.

And so, he ignored it all and opened the updated information about Obria. Twelve Novas, the new price reflected the size and the value of the new content. He took a deep breath; this report would finalize his decision on whether to stay or leave the colony. His Pa's memories and his childhood house kept him here, this was his home, but he would never put emotions before his life. If it was necessary, he would rather become a wandering Severynth outside the walls than remain inside and muddle in the chaos.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 6.0

Anima: [Fire – 6.0 | Ice – 6.0 | Blood – 6.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 290
Sol: 4987

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-46 Report

"Report—

Confirmed Facts: Fifteen years ago, the tension between the defense force and the royal family of the colony peaked. Assassinations, bribery, poaching; the laws and the political situation destabilized. With no remedy and supervision, it has worsened over the years.
Five years ago, the War Dogs rebelled. They've massacred the Geltam family and their supporters and have overthrown Vidovik Geltam's rule. Unknown to the public, the War Dogs now control the colony.

The civil war behind the curtains has broken the supply routes and hindered the economy, it's worsening by the day. The Dogs lack the proper chain of command to maintain the colony and are losing control over it.

Someone or some group has taken advantage of this to spread an anti-Severynth sentiment throughout the colony. Their purpose is unknown, but their actions show they only want chaos. They're gaining more support from the Kyrons by the day.

Speculation: The commanders of the War Dogs were still trying to make it stronger several years ago, but they seem to have given up now. There has been no effort from their side to recruit new Severynths. The rise of the new group only supports this. From their methods and fanaticism, they seem to be a staunch religious group, and have ambitions to overthrow the military rule. The high commanders have done nothing to stop this. There have been some hints that they're planning on abandoning the colony altogether. It has been centuries since the last colony was sold. Maybe Obria too will go to the highest bidder soon.

List of Important Deaths:…

Signed: C. Run
"

Ewan's spirit blob flickered and faded as he hovered in silence; the gloomy blood-red tint through the window reflected his mood. First, the hundred-year time limit, and now the bad news about his colony…

Though he'd predicted some of it, the confirmation hammered in the reality. Vidovik's death didn't matter, military's rule wouldn't matter, for none of them would affect the citizens much, but they were losing control of the colony. The cloud-grazing perimeter walls separated the chaos and the order, and now the politics blurred that line. The mortals couldn't touch him anymore but who could guarantee there were no Severynths involved in this.

He sighed. It was final, he would leave the colony. He was fortunate his Pa left him the hub-connector….

……

Eighteen years…

Ewan slumped on the sofa in the hall and looked around. This was the place he grew up in, reluctance to leave was an understatement. The kitchen where his Pa cooked; the countertop where they ate, oftentimes with Nana's family; the hall where his Pa read him books and watched tv with him; the courtyard where they played together; the balcony where he would bore him with his stargazing… His tears, his smiles, his lame jokes, memories pervaded every nook and cranny of this house, this place he called home. Even the seven years of loneliness couldn't dampen it.

Yet, time waited for none. He had to move sooner or later; his home couldn't become his shackle. The current situation only forced it sooner than later.

Preparations would take time, but he had to do something before that.

……

The rusted main gate creaked when he went in. Nana's yard clutched onto the semblance of its past, yet it'd withered beyond death. The colorful flowers had long perished, only the decaying remains proved the existence of the well-maintained beautiful garden that once welcomed the comers.

He pressed the doorbell, but nothing rang inside. So, he knocked on the door and soon muffled footfalls rushed down the stairs.

The door opened with a twist of the handle and his heart skipped a beat. Cascading silky chestnut hair caressed her shoulders, her smooth fair skin almost reflected the sun, her glossy pink lips invited him. Not even a hint of alcohol remained on her, she instead smelled floral sweet—it was the night-blooming jasmine, a flower he liked.

Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder, they said. And to him, she looked enchanting today, almost reigniting his old memories—his cherished times.

She changed so much in only a few weeks…

"Ewan? Come in."

He followed her to the hall and took a seat on the sofa, glimpsing the dining table where the tragedy occurred.

"Sit, I have something to tell you," Ewan said and stopped her from fetching him a glass of water.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked and sat opposite him.

"Do you know what's been going on in the colony?"

"Those protests? Did they attack someone again?"

Ewan waited a breath. "If you have enough Novas, you should buy the information on our colony," he said.

"Is it something bad?" she asked.

"It's about…uncle and aunt. It's better if you read it yourself," he said.
Their names were in the 'List of Important Deaths', it detailed the circumstances surrounding their demise too, though the accuracy of it remained unchecked. The colony's politics weaved their lives into chaos, and they suffered a disaster because of it. This was why they suddenly left, and this must be why they pushed him away when they came back—their past emotions, their sentiments, their affection, it was all true. They really cared for him…

Nana's eyes widened, and her breath hitched.

"Obria hasn't been stable for some time. And it's getting worse. I've decided to leave, you should too." He wanted to but ultimately couldn't ask her to come with him, the years of distance halted his words.

She stared at the floor, her chest heaving, her eyes misty.

"Nana," he called but she kept staring. "Nana." He called again. "Nana!" He banged on the table and startled her. "Do you have enough Novas?" he asked.

She looked at him, dazed, a teardrop rolling down her cheek, "Y-yeah…," she said.

"Good." Ewan nodded. "Buy the information and decide on what to do. I hope you leave too, but it's up to you. I'll…go now."

She still sat on the sofa, staring at his shadow when he got up to leave. He stopped after a step then sighed.

"Nana." He kneeled in front her and looked up in her watery eyes. "They're gone, you'll have to move on someday. Think about what you want, don't let your past trap you here." His words weren't for her as much as they were for himself. He had to move on too, to follow his dream.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 6.0

Anima: [Fire – 6.0 | Ice – 6.0 | Blood – 6.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 290
Sol: 4987

 

[Aleth08]

Chapter-47 Stalling [Part-I]

A man and a woman in formal black suits waited at his door when Ewan returned from Nana's house. The curly-haired man, should be in his thirties, donned a nut-brown overcoat on top with breadcrumbs on his collar. While the long-haired young woman with bangs had hers in her arm, her pleated skirt wrinkled, and dark circles ran under her reddened eyes.

"The shop's closed indefinitely," Ewan said with a smile and thumbed the biometric scanner.

"Ewan Ayres?" the man asked. Ewan halted and turned around, closing the opened door behind him, and the latch clicked with a grind.

"May I know who's asking?"

"I'm Cage, and this is Gretel. We're from L.E.A." He flipped and showed Ewan his badge, though barely gave him any time to read the tiny letters and put it away. "We have some questions for you. Do you mind coming with us?"

Law enforcers….

"What's this about?" Ewan asked.

"Everything will be disclosed in time, you just need to come with us," the young woman, Gretel, said, clutching the overcoat in her hand hard. She glared at Ewan without blinking, and her bloodshot eyes veined in red.

"Of course. Can I make a call first though?" Ewan asked.

And he stepped away from the two when Cage gave the nod and called Uncle Thain. The usual female idol song rang, and it rang for a long time before he picked up.

"Ewan? Something happened?" he asked.

"Don't know, but two black suits are here. They want me to go with them," Ewan said. The background noise grated behind the static of the call, it sounded of a beast's roar and someone's bellow. He might be outside… No, the phone connected, so he should be inside the walls. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"Don't worry, go with them. It'll take me some time, but I'll be there. Just stall for time but try not to say too much either," Uncle Thain said.

"Okay." Ewan hung up. "Let's go," he smiled and said to the two black suits.

……

Ewan sat on a frigid metal chair with uneven legs in a drab room with dust-shade walls and no windows, smell of fresh paint tickling his nose, the croaking side fan struggling to rotate with hiccups. The two black suits sat across the reflective table, going through some files, their overcoats hung on the coat hanger in the corner.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we? You're Ewan Ayres, son of Authen Ayres and Thea Ayres, turned eighteen this year, quit school, didn't receive your Astylind, received one as a gift instead. Or should I say compensation? Your mother's not in the picture, your father died when you were eleven, you inherited little to nothing from him and earn a living from your shop which you've closed indefinitely for quite some time now. Am I right or do you want to change something?" Cage said.

"It's accurate, go on," Ewan said, adjusting his posture on the wonky chair.

Cage pulled out a piece of paper from his file and slid it in front of Ewan, "Please sign this if you agree with what's written on it."

The terms were a confirmation of consent, that he was here of his own will. Ewan read it twice, there weren't any loopholes or contract traps. But still…. "Do I have to sign this?" This was an unknown environment and he had little to no knowledge about such procedures.

"You can refuse but then this won't be a civil conversation," Gretel said.

"I'll take my chances," he said and slid the paper back.

Cage clicked his tongue and signed 'E. Ayres' on the paper himself. "It's just a formality," he said and stuffed it in a thick folder.

Ewan laughed; they weren't even trying to hide it.

"Let's get to business now. Are you aware of what happened at the Frosthelm festival this year?" Cage asked.

Is it about that? After so many days?

"I am." He nodded.

"Were you there that day?" The man had his head buried in the folders, licking his tongue and flipping papers.

Ewan frowned and looked at both black suits. Cage carried a casual attitude while the woman brimmed with hostility. Were they trying to blame him for something?

"I refuse to answer," Ewan said.

The man looked up and stared him in the eyes. "That you can, yes."

Gretel clenched her jaws, her nostrils flared, her eyes flamed.

"Then let me ask, were you at this shop that day?" He passed a paper to Ewan and tapped on a certain line. It was the address of the barber shop Ewan visited on his birthday.

"I refuse to answer." Ewan glanced at the paper and passed it back.

"Okay, what about this tournament? Did you buy its ticket?" Cage gave Ewan a copy of the ticket he bought for that Severynth tournament.

Ewan shrugged.

He put the copy aside and slid another form to him. "Would you be willing to take a blood test for us?" he asked.

"No." Ewan slid the form back.

The man leaned back with a deep breath and pushed the folders to the side. "Have we got off on the wrong foot? We just want to ask some questions."

"You tell me. Your lady here has already killed me million times in her head, probably tortured even. I doubt that asking questions is all you want to do." Ewan chuckled.

Cage looked at the fuming young woman and sighed. "Let's just chat then. You wouldn't refuse that, would you?"

"Depends." Ewan also leaned back and balanced the lopsided legs of the chair, his boots tapping on the floor at intervals. Its three and a half stumps existed to make him uncomfortable, and it did just that and excelled at it. His heart had rarely raced with such rhythm, and the butterflies were having a picnic in his stomach.

"You're aware of the recent conflicts. What are your views on it? Severynths and Kyrons, do you think we can live together in peace?" Cage bit the unlit cigarette butt and struck his lighter drum, again and again, shielding the wick with his other palm. Sparks flew but it didn't kindle.

Ewan laughed. "You talk as if we're equal. Here, let me show you the difference." He traced the <Ember> spell circuit in a flash and torched half his cigarette with a flick of a finger.

"Stop!" Gretel sprung on her feet, flinging the chair back. It cracked when it hit the floor—hers was wooden. Cage shivered, though the room was warm, and clenched his jaws with a gulp; the cigarette's ashes scattered on the table.

Ewan raised both his arms and yielded, but the scale of dominance tipped on his side and killed the butterflies. "It was just <Ember>."

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

Status: Healthy

Step-0 [3rd Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 1.4

Spirit: 6.0

Anima: [Fire – 6.0 | Ice – 6.0 | Blood – 6.0]

Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]

Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.

Novas: 290
Sol: 4987