I have to get rid of this stuff, my identity is already threadbare as it is, and this, this could break everything open on that front.
Unwilling to go to school with my fingertips altered like this, the first person I went to was of course dad.
"Dad, I had a bit of an accident in the lab just now, so I need you to call the school and tell them I'm home with some kind of illness," I explained, walking into the living room nervously.
He gives me a concerned look. "What happened?"
I show him my hands and he takes them carefully, looking them over and prodding the tips gently.
"That... That's something else. Do you have a way to fix it? What happened?" he asks.
I wave off his concern. "I'm going to go out healing with Panacea this week. I'll ask her to fix it. It was just a simple mistake with a rune I was experimenting with. Nothing some healing can't fix," I explain.
"If you say so," he responds. "Promise me you'll be a bit more careful?" he asks.
I nod. "Naturally. I'm not exactly keen on anything like this happening again either. I'll be looking into some added protections."
"You know, it might not be a terrible idea to move your things out of the basement, now that you've got some property to keep it on," he offers.
"It's in the good part of town, too. Not much happens there," he says, explaining his reasoning.
I grimace a bit at the idea. It wouldn't necessarily be unsafe, but at the same time, something about moving my experiments into town, so close to the boardwalk with all the potential interlopers and witnesses and thieves...
"You don't have to. I just thought you might prefer to put some distance between your home and work, now that you can," he offers, noticing my expression.
And isn't that the understatement of the week? I certainly would like that. Technically, nothing was stopping me from doing my work in a more public space, other than the attention it might bring.
"I'll think about it, dad. I've got some problems with the idea, but it isn't a bad one, I don't think."
"You're smarter than I was at your age, that's for sure," he says.
"So, do you have chickenpox or mono, if anyone asks?" he continues with a smirk.
Skipping out on school was odd. I had a lot more free time, to the point where I was able to get a ton done while I was waiting at home for the right time to sneak out and become Sage again.
I had more than enough time to deeply experiment with a lot of the more "demonic" magic types, and my power began telling me things, things that seemed impossible.
Hell is real, and there are apparently mining operations in it. I wasn't sure how my power knew this, considering before, it only told me about a mana type's physical properties, as well as use-cases, and sometimes warnings for the alchemical types.
But when I tested out transmuting Iron using a complex blend of magics, my power informed me quite handily that what I did was apparently common practice in hell, combining Hellforge Magic with a Stone Transmutation turned the iron into a stinking sulfur-smelling sludge that would turn into "Demonite" if I heated it enough, evaporating away liquid and shrinking into a denser and denser material.
How I could make it any hotter without something like an arc furnace when the clay-like sludge was already steaming and bubbling, I had no clue, but it seemed I would need to if I wanted to see what the metal did.
When I added in Emerald Cultivation Magic to the mix, my power helpfully informed me that I had created Jewelmeat, a withered flesh made from gems and metal that twitched and pulsed with malice and power. It also informed me of the methods one must use to cook it, as the flesh apparently grew visibly healthier and more lively as it was heated. If I heated it with the perfect temperature, it could be edible, or so my power seemed to imply.
But it also implied that too much heat would turn the flesh into a hostile monster.
It was incredibly intriguing, however disturbing it might be.
I also figured out the perfect solution to Lisa's problem, by applying mana attuned to my Corona Pollentia to Silicon, I could synthesize something.
Something terrible, and beautiful. Something that evoked fear and awe, and nudged at the corners of my mind, reminding me of something I had never experienced.
I could create Crystalline Flesh through synthesis, and that flesh could act as a relay for my power, producing and controlling mana just like my power does.
It would require testing, but in theory, a phone could be augmented with the material, some kind of enchantment woven into it to detect Coil's meddling.
On the mundane side, I also managed to put together something to compete with Panacea's healing spray, my very own 'Healant', produced via synthesis, I could create a bubblegum-pink fluid that healed wounds on contact. My power warned me that it was too strong in its current form, though, so it's likely I would have to perform experiments to dilute it correctly. Or pass it off to a lab to do that testing for me.
I wondered if I could learn things that way. If the tests that other people did on my magic could be detected and recorded by my own power.
If not, I imagine Crystalline Flesh could do the trick, on that front.
Finally, a quick internet search had me checking a few of the Runes used by the Norse, the Elder Futhark language.
It was interesting. All the characters seemed to lend themselves to Stone and Lightning magics, magics as angular and jagged as the runes themselves.
Something tickled at the back of my mind as I studied the runes, but I couldn't figure it out on my own.
I was reminded of The Language. The mana type I discovered that filled paper with illegible scrawls that seemed to lack meaning, despite their swoopy, curling and deliberate characters.
I made a note to buy a stack of copy paper and cover it all with The Language. Lisa could surely make sense of it.
Before long, it was time. School was over, and Panacea would soon be making her rounds.
I grabbed my costume and slipped it on, before finally donning the gloves, cool moss slipping over my transformed fingertips, and tightening around them for a perfect fit with the barest muttering of intentions.
I brought a vial of my Healant to the hospital for Amy to look over after we were done with our other business, and when we poured it on a tree, her eyes widened.
"Oh wow. I assumed you could probably make something like this, but I'm still a little surprised how good you are at it. That stuff is liquid cancer, Sage. Like, pretty much, anyway. It basically makes cells stop dying long enough for them to exponentially grow for a while, and jacks up their reproduction speed to boot," she explains, palm resting on the tree we picked out.
Sure enough, I could already see little lumps growing where the healant was spilled.
"This stuff would work great, as long as you didn't get any on anything that didn't need healing. So, no breathing it in, drinking it, or otherwise spilling it on anything you don't want 'healed'," she says.
After taking her palm off the tree, she explains further. "To be honest, this stuff is kind of crazy. It fights off the exact kind of DNA degredation that your power seems to ignore, even if it's just temporary. Have you ever heard of the North American Destroying Angel mushroom?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"Really nasty. I won't get into the details, but it basically attacks your DNA, and that's game over for most living things. This 'Healant' stuff, much like most of your magic, seems to treat DNA as 'Flavor text', rather than any true blueprint for life, but taken up to eleven. In short, it's basically the Temporary-tattoo of carcinogens," she finishes.
Tossing the silicon vial away and stomping on it like a soda can, I tried to work up the courage to ask Amy my favor.
"Amy, can you heal me quick? There's something I needed taken care of, and well, I figured I'd ask," I explain.
She shrugs. "Sure. What? Acid burn? I haven't seen you heal those yet," she considers, wondering what could possibly wound me.
In leu of an answer, I take off my glove and present the result of my failed experiment.
"Thaumic Collapse. I basically got a bit of reality on my fingers, and well," I wave the hand around and waggle the fingertips.
"Oh," Amy says, looking at the transformed flesh with interest.
She grabs my hand and examines it for entirely too long with a glassy eyed look.
"Wow. That's not some little birthmark, huh? That goes right down to the DNA. Well, the cells that still have em, anyway," she says.
"Wait, what?" I ask. What on earth did she mean by that?
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, some of your cells don't have full sets of DNA anymore. I figured you had some way of figuring that out by now? Sorry, I probably should have mentioned it the first time I noticed," she says casually, reverting my fingers back to normal.
"Whatever your power does to make half dead or completely dead biomass get up and move, it hasn't been ignoring your body. A bunch of your cells and tissues have been surviving quite happily with their newfound cousins. Your power makes it so that malformed cells aren't being destroyed or recycled, and even some of your dead cells are 'surviving' long enough to reproduce."
"The only time your body seems to cull cells is when they drift near your bones, and my power can't exactly tell what's doing it, other than that it's killing them and turning them straight into melted goop. It's all pretty interesting, actually. I actually ended up looking up those mushrooms after we met, once I figured out what was going on." She says simply.
I had no earthly idea how to respond to that.