Basic Thaumaturgy for the Emotional Incompetent [A Magical Academy LitRPG]

She solo-killed a boss by herself? I guess that's just an average day for Montreal.

The cavern was suddenly quiet. Fabrisse watched as Tommaso knelt over him, attending to his wounds.

Tommaso's movements were precise and economical. He handled the cloth and the injured shoulder much more gently than he usually did with, well, anything else. Methodically, Tommaso checked the depth of the puncture, wiped away the blood near Fabrisse's nose, and cleaned the grime from his forehead.

"You . . . you move like you've done this a hundred times," Fabrisse managed. "Did you learn all this in the army?"

"Not the fun parts." Tom secured the dressing with a neat knot. "They don't teach you field triage through fighting goblins, man. You learn this stuff standing in line at the base clinic for six hours, watching the medics work. Or better yet," he paused with a humorous glint in his eye, "you learn it by trying to stop the endless flow of blood coming from your buddy's hand after he slipped while on latrine duty. At least it's better than latrine duty itself." He patted Fabrisse's chest. "You're fine, just need a bit of rest. Lucky that Nymph didn't hit anything important."

A shape emerged from the depth of the chasm's edge—the very place Severa had flung herself moments before.

Severa stood in the firelight with green viscous splatters across her face, possibly insect blood. Beneath the insect blood were bizarre patterns: one thick line ran from her hairline, across her forehead and brow bone, splitting just above the nose to trace down each cheekbone like war paint from some ancient northern tribe. It looked like dried blood. Her twelve eyes were gone.

"Is the wound deep?" Severa's voice was flat, devoid of the exhaustion or triumph one might expect from a solo takedown of a Broodmother.

Tommaso didn't look up from Fabrisse's shoulder. "Not bad, all things considered. Just a clean puncture. Lucky." He pressed the cloth firmly one last time, then finally looked at Severa. "Yeah, we're fine. But . . . you just jumped down there, Montreal. What happened?"

"The Broodmother's elemental absorption made a conventional attack useless. The solution required an unconventional method," she stated again. "I am in good condition, thank you very much." She reached inside her robe and produced a small glass vial filled with a gold liquid. "This is a Minor Healing Potion. Take it." She offered the vial to Fabrisse, who was still propped up by Tommaso.

Fabrisse took the vial. It was cool and gave off a faint scent of mint. He twisted the stopper and drank the contents in a single gulp. A soothing warmth spread instantly through his shoulder, and the throbbing ache began to recede.

Tommaso watched the exchange, then looked at Severa's stained face. "How many of those potions do you have left?" he asked.

"Three," Severa replied. "I did not plan on a dungeon excursion today."

"All minor?"

"Correct."

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Tommaso ran a hand through his hair. "That's not gonna be enough if we need to clear five more chambers like this one."

Severa met his gaze, her dark eyes steady. "I will manage. We are a party now, so we will distribute resources among us as needed." She paused, then tilted her head slightly. "Do you bring any potions, Ardefiamme?"

Tommaso stood up, brushing dust and stone shards from his trousers. "Me? Not really. I don't carry many ready-use supplies, Montreal. You know, I mostly rely on these bad boys," he said, pointing down and flexing his calf muscles so the hardened leather of his shin pads strained, then he gave a quick, proud pump of his right bicep. "My aetherically-imbued gear. And not just Army-issued gear, either. My defenses are all baked into the metal and hide. Check out my shin guards and my bracers. And this, too!" He pointed to the plates on his shoulders. "They channel and manipulate the aether for defense and increased Fire output, and I've got the finest runes carved specifically to enhance the speed of aetheric release. Why load up dozens of ready-sigils when you can just amplify your own aether?" He patted on a pocket on the side of his trousers. "Got a couple aetheric potions, though, if you ever need that."

Fabrisse watched the space between them. He absolutely could not follow the conversation. He knew what imbued runes were, of course. Any beginner Thaumaturge learned that complex sigils etched onto items could enhance a person's elemental output or provide passive defenses. Most standard-issue army gear, like what Tommaso wore, included basic protection runes.

What he didn't know was that runes could enhance the 'speed of aetheric releases.'

Severa seemed to have caught Fabrisse's expression, as she explained without prompting, "There are five types of runes, Kestovar: the strike rune, the guard, the swift, the endure, and the feather. Ardefiamme etched his gears with mostly the swift rune so he could release instantly."

That makes sense. Tom has like 90 DEX so he can react instantly, but it'd mean nothing if he can't release spells as fast.

"Then the patterns on your face . . ." Fabrisse asked.

Severa wiped away the green goo across her nose bridge. "That's insect blood."

"No, I mean . . . the mask pattern."

"Oh." Severa didn't seem to realize the bloody patterns were still visible. She closed her hand slowly, and murmured a single word Fabrisse couldn't hear. The patterns faded gradually before being absorbed into her skin. Soon, they were gone, and her face returned to its severe paleness.

When she opened her eyes, she explained, "It is my innate element, Blood. The vast majority of Blood Thaumaturgy spells leave a visible residue. The raw insect haemolymph I came into contact with was partially assimilated by my superficial aetheric channels during combat. I neglected to remove it fully."

"Damn cool, posh lady," Tommaso said, shaking his head slightly at the efficiency of the cleanup. "Seriously. But what do most Blood spells actually do? I haven't seen anyone outside of House Montreal cast Blood spells, ever. Is it mostly debuffs, or is there a way to make it hit hard?"

"The element of Blood, in the context of Thaumaturgy, is primarily focused on support and redirection, not raw output. You shall see," she said.

Hold on. Wasn't it 42 minutes a while ago? It must've been like half a bell already. How has the timer only moved 2 minutes?

But he had no time to think about that.

Severa gave him a firm, but minimal, tap on his forearm. "Do you feel sufficiently recovered for immediate deployment?"

"Yeah." It took him some effort to rise to his feet.

"Then we must proceed with haste," she commanded. "There has been a notably more substantial aetheric disturbance deeper within the rift. My knowledge of unstable subterranean constructs dictates that they shall not allow our egress until we effectively neutralize the source."

"Meaning . . ."

Tommaso cut in, "Simple. We gotta eliminate the Dungeon Boss."