Flux Core [A System Apocalypse LitRPG Adventure]

..+.. Quinlan ..+..

Quinlan chewed his meal - and his face twitched a smile. It probably felt bigger than it was - but it felt... good.

'Do you want to take a break, or keep going?'

'I want to take a break.'

'Do you want a water?'

'No, but I'm hungry.'

Those two responses were innocuous, but it was twice in a row where he'd spoken up for himself and his own desires. He was sure his teacher's story had been more tool than reality - more advice than experience. But maybe he'd been close enough to the truth for things to matter. For the advice to be real. Living like this was harder. Doing the things he'd been doing for the past few weeks was the hardest struggle.

But it was living. It was struggle. And it was his.

Where the light of the fire faded against the trees, Serroc paced with his attention drawn out to the woods. Spiders were more active since they'd gotten to the edges of the once-great web. It was tatters now, and they were partially full up on their collections. It would only be a few more days, maybe a week, and they'd be ready to return to Dayo.

A small flame in Quinlan's gut didn't want to go home. It refused his desire to fall back into old routines. Into an empty house. Into silence and isolation.

Noomei sat down next to Quinlan. The fire flicked shadows across his peer's increasingly muscular frame. They'd both bulked up considerably on this trip - power was useful for things like that. The real exercise of travel and fighting didn't hurt his muscle gain either. The sleeves of his shirt were starting to pull against his biceps. Maybe he would need a new wardrobe?

His peer offered Quinlan a bready starch, and he held up a hand while pointing to his mouth. He kept chewing as Noomei asked the obvious.

"So, what did you learn this time?"

The unspoken agreement to transfer knowledge had cropped up shortly after Quinlan started putting more of himself into Serroc's lessons. After he decided to give his teacher's advice a try. Noomei and the others apparently sensed a change, and everyone seemed like they were warmer with him. That also felt good.

Quinlan finished chewing, and shared.

This outing - where Serroc separated him from the rest of the group to 'give him more privacy to craft in' was an obvious attempt to make Quinlan more comfortable with - well, with rolling up his sleeves. It also worked. Over the past week, they had covered a wide range of topics, spurred on by his teacher's excitement and Quinlan's excitement at making further progress.

He could still feel the sensation of energy flowing through his body.

-

"Alright - now, what do you feel?"

"Like... I'm crafting something?"

His teacher pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Wrong answer. Dive deeper. There's a sensation to crafting. A rhythm. A flow. You aren't just making something. It's like saying you know a book because you read the last page. Don't just focus on the result. Come on, we've worked on this. Feel the process. Feel the motion. Where does it originate?"

Quinlan set his hands back on the table, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Energy swelled up from within him, much faster than when they'd started. There was still much he knew was technically possible, but couldn't do himself. His teacher had struggled with that. It was obvious that much came innately to Serroc's talent.

Still, he tried. Over and over again, stacking failures to the heavens.

He attempted it once again. 'Focusing inwards' the way Serroc told him was possible. He let his hands well with energy, pulled from within him. He had managed to feel out some of it, mapped it back to what felt like an invisible waterfall, where energy simply came into being.

"I can't do it. I know where the power starts from. It just appears."

Quinlan flinched as his teacher's large hand pressed against his back. "Mana, not power. How many books did you say you've read, Quinlan?"

He shrugged, and his shirt pulled against Serroc's hand. "A lot."

"And in all those books, was there anything supernatural? Magical?"

Quinlan snorted. "Yeah. Of course."

Serroc's hand moved, and poked him hard. Quinlan's eyes snapped open.

"Then why are you trying so hard to physically touch something innately magical? Can your hand grab mana? Can your eyes see it flowing in me? You haven't gone deep enough, Quinlan. There's more there. The metaphysical. You've gotten so close to it. You're almost there. Feel yourself. Your metaphysical self. Feel the source of your mana, and feel it flow through you."

Quinlan focused back in on himself. There was a system. Surely it would have told him how to find the metaphysical. It gave him all the knowledge he needed to -

His thoughts stopped as a flash appeared. It was a fragment of a memory of a feeling - the color blue, and warm, sweet liquid. As it slipped out and away from him, Quinlan was met with a piercing pain. He fell backwards off the log, into Serroc's waiting hand.

"Wicked. You caught a glimpse, right?"

"That really hurts. I don't think I want to do it again."

Serroc pushed Quinlan effortlessly into a sitting position.

"You don't need to do it again right away, but you just saw something really important. You'll need to continue with that. It... it really wasn't what I was trying to get you to figure out, but it's damn cool that you touched on it. I just wanted you to start to see your mana pool. You're going to need to feel the energy flowing through yourself. Learn to manipulate it not with your fingers, but your metaphysical hands. You're still spinning things and moving them with your hands. And, now that you've gotten good at that, it's time to take it to the next level. Metaphysical manipulation gives you much finer control."

Quinlan felt a small urge to move his sleeves at the mention of his hands. It went away quickly.

Over the next several hours, he pushed himself into the task of truly feeling his mana and its source, and tried to touch it. He also managed to poke another fragment - and stopped for a half hour to recover from the pain. Slowly - agonizingly slowly - Quinlan managed to 'push' some of the mana moving through him. It curled around a not-fingertip he mentally pressed against the moving energy.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

And just like that, he was truly hooked.

#

"Again."

Quinlan blinked tired eyes and struggled to not move his hands. They sat, palms down, on a flat rock. Above them, he struggled with all his might to move mana with his not-hands and shape it how he wanted it to be. Sluggish motion shaped the ethereal energy into the form of a crude, small knife. He held on long enough to finish shaping, and then pumped in a surge of energy to finish the craft.

He panted, and raised his head. His teacher had his arms folded, and gave a stern nod.

"Better. Good work, Quinlan. You have more to explore. Whatever we can't finish on the way back, I'll write down for you. Keep pushing this, every day. You should be able to make one of those knives in a few minutes, or less. Aim for that. When you hit that, you can try for traits. After you get one, strive for two. Throw yourself into the work, just like you've thrown yourself into everything else. I know you can do it."

-

Noomei was slack-jawed.

"No. Freakin. Way."

Quinlan nodded.

"But you can't craft without your hands! That's nuts! Show me!"

Quinlan felt a twinge of pride as he started the process - and a twinge of something else as his peer stared at his hands. He bit back the second emotion, and pressed forward. Slowly, he built another ivory knife. When it flashed into existence, Nooemi celebrated twice as much as Quinlan ever had while learning the method.

He caught a glimpse of Serroc through the firelight. The lopsided smile from his teacher brought him even more joy.

#

#

Fighting. Experience. Walking. Gathering.

Days were spent completing the next steps of the mission - and took up the whole of their focus. That meant no more dedicated training trips. But it didn't mean an end to the grind. Quinlan continued to push himself, his magic, and his awareness. He managed to catch another glimpse of the fragment, even. His collection of bone knives had grown quite large, and he had to awkwardly ask one of their porters to store the things. With some prodding from Rongo, Quinlan switched to producing spares to the components they expected to wear down. Those, at least, had more immediate utility for the whole of Dayo Sovni.

As soon as they'd collected a 'sufficient' amount of spider thread, the group turned around and started back towards town. Quinlan caught his teacher more than once looking in the rough direction of Dayo Evni, and oddly enough - back at the mountain. He was fairly certain his teacher had gone back towards the great web in the night more than once - but for what purpose, he couldn't say. Maybe the man just really liked killing spiders and wanted more. He didn't dwell on that. He didn't have the spare brainpower to manage it.

By the time his weary head and feet saw home again, he was more than ready to sleep in a proper bed. The glittering jewel that was Sovni cove beckoned them all forward with a welcome, picturesque beauty. Pink blobs moved themselves through his hometown's narrow streets and alleys, and old bells rang their return. It felt important. Not in any grand sense, but... as a step. Just one of hundreds, or maybe thousands. A footfall that, to Quinlan, was part of a brand new path.

As they walked into the city, he took more time to question his teacher. Topics ranged from magic - mostly dead ends, to the right diet for a crafter - apparently eating lots of meat was important, to inane thoughts like the right number of pillows for a bed. The topic at hand when they finally interacted with a waiting group had been on fatigue. Quinlan possessed a pervasive tiredness that made him strained in ways he'd never felt before. His senior crafter offered advice - as he always did for his apprentice.

"...which is why your body isn't used to doing all that activity. So, stretching. Do what comes naturally, or I can write some down for you to start with. But just descriptions. I'm not good at illustrations."

A smile tugged at Quinlan's lips. "So there is something you can't do."

Serroc returned the smile. "Can't do yet. Don't underestimate me, young padawan."

Quinlan frowned. "Pada-what? I don't think that translated right."

Serroc cleared his throat. "Nevermind. Just face forward, we have to deal with the welcome party."

It had become very clear to Quinlan during their time together that his teacher was not a fan of large groups. He also had a... warranted dislike for a few members of their town. Quinlan saw two targets ahead of them. Walsamo and Kaeryn were at the front of the waiting group.

"Welcome back!" Walsamo shouted in overacted glee. "We hope you had a wonderful trip! Let us take a load off for you, and everyone can get home. I'm sure Quinlan is ready to get back to his room, eh?"

The man was wearing another shiny running suit, and he gave Quinlan a pointed look as he spoke. Serroc waved at the group - who Quinlan now realized were eying them all with some level of fear and trepidation. More than a few looked like they were trying to puzzle out how Quinlan and his teacher were chatting so casually. He swallowed, and put his right hand over his left wrist.

"I think my group deserves some celebration," Serroc objected. "Anyone up for a drink? Or do you want to head home?"

The group offered mixed responses until Quinlan was the only one left who hadn't answered. He felt the pressure of too many eyes on him. Then more pressure - on his shoulder. Serroc had one of his massive hands there, not squeezing - but holding. Supporting.

"I... I think I want to go celebrate the trip."

Quinlan let go of his wrist, and took a breath through his nose.

Another step on the new path.

#

#

The day after what was a surprisingly fun celebration, the vultures descended.

When they knew Serroc would be off with Rongo, Walsamo, Kaeryn, and their entourage had barged into Quinlan's house once more. They started sweet, but quickly pressed for details. What had Serroc wanted. What did he speak about. How could they manipulate him. How could they harm him. Quinlan felt heat rise in his gut as they continued. His teacher was helping the town. He had gone out of his way to keep them safe. He had been in the middle of providing them enough weaponry to stave off the monsters - and the supposed invaders on their planet. But these people - in his house - were attempting every trick they could muster in a shortsighted and incredibly stupid endeavor to... what the hell would they even do if they had any of that information? Nothing. They could do nothing, and they were nothing. Not to Serroc.

And not to Quinlan.

"I would like you to leave now."

Quinlan's words shocked Kaeryn into silence. Walsamo decided to respond for her.

"That is quite rude, Quinlan. You don't treat guests like that."

"You aren't guests - you pushed your way in. And now I want you to leave. I have nothing to offer you, and I wouldn't tell you even if I did. Now, go."

He rose from his seat, and walked to the door. Walsamo followed him, and put a hand on Quinlan's shoulder.

"Quinlan, you shouldn't be so hasty with guests. You might hurt someone's feelings."

The man attempted to squeeze down as he spoke. It was an odd sensation. He knew Walsamo was trying to hurt him - or at least to hold him tight and pressure him. Except, the man's hand felt small and weak. It did less than his teacher's reassuring squeeze had done. Walsamo's fingers could barely indent the flesh on Quinlan's recently empowered frame. And mentally, Quinlan took another step.

He looked at the hand on his shoulder, then back at Walsamo. The self-satisfied half-smile the man wore faded off his face as he realized Quinlan was entirely unfazed.

"Kaeryn, honey, let's just go. Everybody, let's go. Let's let Quinlan have some rest."

The group saw themselves out, and none stepped foot in his house again.

#

#

Serroc stayed another week past the celebration, ever busy between crafting weapons and armor, teaching Rongo about how to use the town management features available to him, and teaching Quinlan more on magic. The end result was a stronger, more unified town governance structure, Quinlan's crafting skill growing slightly better, and a few hundred bolt throwers, strung with spider silk ropes and loaded with bone-tipped arrows. More mundane weaponry, spears and knives, were also available. Armor was so plentiful, the entire town may have been able to wear ivory plate at the same time.

It was a boon to all. A lasting gift from a man Quinlan had gained so much from. He offered a simple, stilted goodbye that didn't go nearly far enough in thanking the man for his advice, and his guidance, and his impact.

He promised himself he would have a better one next time.

With a few more handshakes and waves - to those brave enough to approach 'the terror', his teacher strode into a clear square, and squatted low.

Serroc leapt into the air, and the bones wrapped around his armor unfurled with a growing yellow light that stretched out in an instant to form his pair of terrifying wings.

They snapped into full form with a flash, and his teacher flapped hard to gain altitude. Once he had gained enough, he spun slowly, and waved again at the gathered group. Some were mumbling thanks that the man was leaving. Others were thanking him for his help. Quinlan smiled as he took in the intimidating armor, and the menacing wings.

Seeing those pieces of equipment fueled the flame in his gut.

That thick ivory was impossibly dense and durable. But it was a crafted creation. It was bone.

With enough time and effort - with enough sweat, and pain, and tears - maybe he could craft a set like that one day.

Bone was his element. He knew how impressive the feats were that his teacher casually achieved. How magnificent his magic really was.

A set of impossibly complex, mana-woven wings flapped high in the air. They framed a terrifyingly powerful individual.

An impressively knowledgeable teacher.

A kind man.

The ivory armor he wore was undoubtedly sinister.

Nightmarish.

Cool.