B5 C23: Convalescence

To say that I was bewildered with Verin’s actions would have been a dramatic understatement. From her mad dash through the prairie to her almost animalistic knife pilfering, I was caught off guard at pretty much every step. That was to say nothing of the alien thought process that seemed to be pushing her to constantly please her family, even while her life was constantly at risk.

Admittedly, the knife part was initially the most concerning, and if there hadn’t been such a dire need in Verin’s eyes, I likely wouldn’t have let her take it from me. Surprised or not, I was past the point where someone with baseline physical stats could get the drop on me. It wasn’t a risk I would have normally taken, but the mana knife was conjured with Arcane Armaments in any case. The moment I thought she was doing something too extreme, I could always unsummon it.

A bad haircut, in its own way, was pretty devastating, but not life-threatening.

Sad as it was to say, I wasn’t all that fazed, even when she passed out. Verin had been on something of a passing-out streak lately, and once God’s Eye confirmed that she was still healthy, I repeated the now-familiar act of lugging her light body back to her room.

If there was one upside to this entire debacle, it was that she didn’t take long to rouse. Unlike in her previous miniature-comas, Verin was already shifting about by the time I placed her into bed.

When she did wake, I prepared myself for another outburst or for her to run out on me again, but no such drama unfolded. After raising a hand to her impromptu uneven pixie cut, Verin widened her eyes and curled her lips into an expressive O that looked out of place on her normally impassive face.

Thankfully, rather than seeming to regret her rash actions, Verin shifted to wearing a self-satisfied smile. While she’d certainly noticed my presence by now, before she addressed me, Verin rolled her jaw around, as if chewing on her potential words. Rather than mention any of her earlier actions, she settled on a much more mundane topic.

“I’m a little hungry.” 

Unsurprising after all that running, but still not what I’d expected her to say. Deciding not to broach the many elephants in the room if she didn’t want to, I settled back into Chef Tess mode.

“I’ll go whip something up. Any requests?”

After everything Verin had done today, I’d naively assumed that she’d run out of ways to shock me. That assumption was rapidly disproven when she uttered a set of words which made me wonder if the noble had been possessed without me realizing.

“Yes. Would you mind if I helped? I’d like to learn.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week was not at all what I’d imagined when I’d first thought about taking care of Verin.

To say that she was happy would have been more of an outright lie than an exaggeration -- her situation was bleak, and she always seemed fatigued no matter how much rest she got.

Still, there was a look in her eyes, a sort of vital energy that followed her around along with a newfound willingness to take up different hobbies. Not that Verin was particularly good at helping me cook, but even earning a single level in the skill was enough to visibly firm her resolve. To a lesser degree, the same was true for Woodworking, Tailoring, and even a tiny bit of Alchemy I taught her.

The more time I spent with her, though, the more I was disheartened with the lack of space.

Save for short stints outside, Verin was largely trapped in her room if she didn’t want to be in constant pain. Ignoring how psychologically draining that must have been for her, it also ruled out a wide array of activities to fill her time.

The garden was off limits. She wouldn’t be pulling long shifts in front of the furnace. Even when it came to cooking, she was only able to help in small bursts, or with prep work that could be done in her room.

In a way, Verin’s weakness was a double-edged sword. Were it not for the vast amount of time she spent sleeping, I was sure she would have gone mad from the monotony by now.

To that end, before I focused on my own training, I had three new goals.

One: To learn how to reproduce Sett’s frost enchantments. He’d only given us enough for a single room, and I doubted he’d appreciate it if I woke him up to ask for more. At the very least, I wanted enough for both Verin’s room and the common room.

Two: To upgrade our living space. A simple cabin was fine for sleeping in, but if Verin was going to be essentially trapped inside for potential months, I figured we could do better. It wasn’t as if I was lacking in supplies, and my Construction skill wasn’t just for show either. Plus, if I figured out the enchantments, then there was no reason we couldn’t have a few extra rooms. Maybe Verin would enjoy having an art studio?

Three: To collect some supplies for Verin to use. This was the most nebulous of my three goals, but I felt pretty bad that the best I could do for her was to hand her a knife and a block of wood. It wasn’t as if I could create novels for her to read or anything, but there had to be something, right? I’d already given her a deck of wooden cards and taught her the rules to solitaire,but that was a stopgap measure at best.

First and foremost, though, were the enchantments. The next time Verin went to sleep, I slipped into her room to run my mana through one of the converter matrices, doing my best to map it out.

To my delight, it didn’t look that much more complicated than the training disks Sett had gifted me. There was a rather complex looping pattern that seemed to make the matrix run passively off the ambient mana, but it was less complicated than the part that shifted neutral mana into frost mana. I’d already spent a fair amount of time studying its light counterpart, and the only reason I hadn’t mastered it already was my lacking mana control.

Then again, all of that had been before my time in the spatial region. Since then, I’d done all sorts of manipulation exercises, and my time fueling the Forge Heart and infusing molten mithril had helped the skill jump up a few extra levels. By now, it sat at a low but respectable level eight. Both manipulation exercises and enchanting practice shot up to the top of my to-do list, and I was optimistic that another level or two in each would be enough for me to succeed.

Still, I could commit myself to nothing but mana training for days on end. While my situation was many times better than Verin’s, I was running into a similar issue to her. Unless I wanted to leave Verin by herself, I was forced to spend more and more time in the cabin, which severely limited how I spent my time. Much like her, I needed to figure out stationary hobbies.

More specifically, healthy, useful hobbies. A day full of two-player card games earned me another level in Gambling, and if I really wanted to, I could probably grab another Drinking level, but somehow, that didn’t feel like a productive use of my time.

It was only after reading through my full skill list that the obvious answer finally hit me. There was one skill that I needed to work on, probably more than any of my others. And as luck would have it, I could do it without moving, too.

Thus, after throwing myself onto one of the feather-filled cushions in the common room, I sent myself into my mental space.

In some sense, it was understandable that I hadn’t spent too much time here. The Stygian Citadel was home to many of my absolute favorite memories, ranging from the day I got it -- mentally tortured for three days -- to the day I lost it -- actually tortured by Warram -- to, more recently, the time I was trapped in it -- nearly killed by the Mind Reaper.

On top of all those cheery outtakes from my life, the ambiance could use some work. The ground was now much more walkable, the cracks having shrunk considerably, but the entire place was still littered with shattered fragments. The only put-together aspect was the wall I’d built, and just as the System had informed me back when I’d finished it, the wall was only graded as Passable.

Still, I knew I needed to give the entire space some more TLC if I wanted to fully heal my mind, and more than that, it was tightly intertwined to not one, but two Legendary skills. Sure, not all skills were built equal, but I’d already seen how much utility Cal got out of her Apex Shroud. How much power was I leaving on the table by ignoring my Soul Forging? 

With the citadel walls already rebuilt -- albeit, a bit shoddily -- that left only the inner fortress itself and the Dungeon of Tragedies. I had no intention of reactivating my Trauma Suppression or touching the dungeon in any way, which meant the fortress was all I could work on right now. 

And so, with as much gumption and grit as I could muster, I threw myself back into the slow, thankless task of reassembling my mind.

Back when I’d built my citadel walls, I’d created a mold to help me make bricks faster. Finding it right where I’d left it, I repeated the all-too-familiar act of throwing mental fragments into the mold, heating them up, and watching them form into a brick.

Exactly how many bricks does it take to build a fortress? Eyeing the space before me, I knew there was only one answer. A lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As much as it felt wrong to say, the following days were… nice. Slow.

No death-defying battles. No frantic deadlines that forced me to train past my limits. Just a lot of skill training, coupled with spending as much time with Verin as I could before she inevitably ran out of energy and went back to sleep.

While my life started to become rather routine, and the days began to blend into one another, there were still the occasional highlights that stood out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tess. You are aware that I am sickly, weak, and constantly frustrated, yes?” Sitting directly across from me on a cushion of her own, Verin stared me down while holding two wooden cards in her hands. Long ago, I’d carved out a set in the style of Sylum, and Verin had taught me a good number of card games to play with them. These cards, however, were more recent, the standard 52-card deck I was familiar with from Earth.

Though I hadn’t gambled much before becoming a Protagonist, I at least knew the rules to Texas Hold ‘Em, and I’d dutifully passed them on to Verin. Presently, there were five cards face up on the ground, signaling that the round was almost over. Lacking any money to play with, we’d settled on using wooden chips instead.

Not entirely sure what Verin was getting at, I answered her question with a nod.

“Is this how you treat your poor, sick friend?” She quirked a brow and tilted her chin and the pile of chips in front of me, practically towering into the sky. Hers, in comparison, was looking rather anemic, only a few paltry chips scattered before her. Pushing every last one of them into the center, she announced her move. “All in.”

Flicking my eyes down to my hand, I worked to still my expression as I examined the two aces I held. Amongst the five cards on the floor, two more aces sat. As best I could tell, with the other cards that were displayed, there was absolutely no hand she could be holding that would beat mine.

Looking back to Verin, I discovered the noble hitting me with her best puppy-dog eyes. In fairness, her best wasn’t very good, as she wasn’t used to her newfound expressiveness. Unfortunately, neither was I, and I struggled to dash her hopes.

“I, uh. I fold.” Taking care to set the aces down without her seeing them, I pushed the center pot towards her. “Honestly, I had nothing good. That’s your win.”

Deception has reached level 9! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ninety-nine aaaaaand, one-hundred.”

Smithing has reached level 9!

The level felt well deserved this time around as I rolled a pointed nail between my fingers before chucking it into my storage space. I hadn’t had much of a chance to use the forge recently, but lately, I’d been coming out right after Verin fell asleep.

Eventually, I was hoping to expand our humble home, and if I could help it, I wanted to make something a bit more modern. Logs were fine, but I was no longer so limited. With actual metal to use, I was confident I could make something much better, and the first step to that was making a giant heap of nails.

How many do I even need? Thinking back to my time with Foreman Tuk, I conjured the image of some of the basic wooden homes we’d made together. Maybe… that many wooden pieces for the scaffolding and support. That many planks for the walls. Then that many for the roof. Each of those planks is going to need four nails, and then…

A bit of hasty mental math later, and I arrived at a ballpark estimate that made me grimace. Throwing some more metal into the furnace, I continued my slow and steady chant.

“One-hundred-and-one…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go, deadly claw attack!” Five threads of mana extended out from my fingers as I swiped my hand downwards. Unable to survive the rapid movement and the wind pressure, the threads dispersed before the makeshift claw connected with anything. “Still pretty bad at keeping them solid while moving.” With a grumble, I decided to switch tracks to one of the exercises Sett had outlined for me.

A single thread of mana poked out from my index finger, creeping forward for a centimeter until it abruptly split into two. This repeated once more, with the two branches splitting into four, and then the four into eight. Knowing my limits, I didn’t dare try for another split, instead just holding the eight branches there. The miniature mana tree strained my control, threatening to dissipate at any second as I clamped down on my mana.

Intrinsic External Mana Manipulation has reached level 9!

The joy I felt from the level was short-lived as the distraction was enough for me to lose control, the tiny tree slipping away from me and vanishing into the ambient mana. With a sigh, I began to recreate it.

Just one more level until I go back to Enchanting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Layer after layer of blackish purple bricks stood before me, welded together. After much travail, I’d done it! The structure was magnificent. Awe-inspiring. Fit for the gods themselves.

Does self-deception count towards leveling the skill? Probably not, right?

Well, fine then. If we were being honest, it sucked. It was small, ugly, and not at all like the original palace. Essentially just a cube with a doorway, the building was a far-cry from the original, but I assumed it would be okay. I hadn’t recreated the wall exactly as it had been, but the Stygian Citadel hadn’t cared, had it?

There was no way I was building a perfect replica of the previous palace. For one, I’d need far, far more time, but more importantly, I’d need a higher Construction level and likely a higher Soul Forging level as well. I needed more than welded bricks, and I knew it.

Still, it’ll work as a good stop-gap, right?

Signaling to the system that I was done with my grand creation, I let it take the wheels.

Here we go mind healing! Legendary skills, activate!

Structure finalized. Analyzing structure…

Structure analyzed. Insufficient similarity to any recorded blueprint encoded in your Stygian Citadel skill. Closest match: Central Citadel, 12%.

Structure declined. No system bonuses will apply.