“So there has been no pain at all?” the blood mage asked Alex as he examined his sling.

“None,” Alex said. “My arm was itchy until a couple of days ago, but even that’s almost gone now. It’s healing, I’d say, though I’m obviously not the expert here.”

“Good, good,” the medical staff member jotted down a note and readjusted his monocle. “Sounds like things arehealing up nicely.”

Alex and the older man were sitting in an office in the infirmary that was painted in yellow and blue. The door was closed, but the sounds of people bustling back and forth in the hall could be heard. Along one wall sat rows of medical supplies.

Tools like callipers, bandages, splints and basins stood beside alchemical supplies like mana-soothing potions, poultices that enhanced natural healing, and mana-powered tools for physical exams. Another shelf was overloaded with books on anatomy, encyclopaedias of poisons, herbs and curatives, and texts on the spread of disease.

“And tell me, do you notice any issues with range of motion on the left side of your body,” Shannerhart—the medic—said, peering at Alex’s eyes one at a time.

“Not a bit,” the younger man said. “If anything, it’s just the sling that’s slowing me down now.”

“Good, good, good.” Shannerhart scrawled down another note in Alex’s chart. “And you’ve had no fevers? No sicknesses? No issues with manipulating mana or channelling into magic circuits lately?”

“Nothing like that. I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“So you are,” Shannerhart said. “I must say, young man, you have done excellent work when it comes to taking care of your body. Too many students come to this school and only focus on feeding their minds, building their magical prowess, and pickling themselves with wine and ale. They neglect the physical until they find themselves sick.”

“Why, thanks, I’ve been trying to keep healthy,” Alex said, flexing his free arm. “I’ll be honest, one of the annoying things about the sling was that I couldn’t exercise, and I missed that.”

In the space of a year—thanks to his Mark-assisted training program, and support from Theresa, Khalik, Thundar and Grimloch—his body and endurance had grown to a level where he could do physical things he’d never dreamt of doing before.

He could run for miles before he got winded, and the weight he could press above his chest these days, was more than double his entire body weight when they’d arrived in Generasi. A year—and a magical Mark—could change a lot about a man, it seemed.

“Well, keep it up,” the blood mage said. “As long as you don’t overdo it and cause yourself an injury. And watch your back. Imagine that sprain in your arm but across your lower back instead: it’s the sort of thing that could weaken you for life.”

“Oh, I’m being careful.”

“Good, good. In any case, from what you report, it seems that there are no issues with infection, disease, poison or curses. Demons can inflict very nasty wounds, so this is a good thing. And I apologise again that we couldn’t use blood magic to heal the sprain faster… But, I’m sure you understand what we were up against.” Shannerhart adjusted his monocle and sighed. “There are still many recovering who’ve suffered significant injuries from those demons, and we had to use our mana reserves strategically when there were so many in need.”

Alex pointed to his sling. “Yeah, I understand. I’d be a pretty big jerk if I was like, “why didn’t you prioritise this little sprain over someone’s broken leg or clawed up body?”

“Well, you’d be surprised how often we get complaints like that,” Shannerhart said. “Now, you have some people waiting for you in the waiting room, I believe. Let’s not keep you and them here all day.”

Slowly, he took off the sling then asked Alex to roll up his sleeve and extend, stretch, and move his arm slowly. Then, he took a look at the dressing. “Now, according to your medical record, your wound was quite deep. So, just to warn you, there might be some scarring.”

“Well, at least it’s not on the face, right?”

“Hah!” Shannerhart laughed. “Some would say that gives the face character. But in either case, let’s see what that dressing is hiding.”

He carefully snipped the bandage with a pair of silver scissors, then began to unwrap it layer by layer. Alex’s cheer soon faded as the skin on his forearm was revealed for the first time in over two weeks. Normally, dressings were changed once per day for a wound like his—according to the medical staff on the beach—but his had been soaked in a solution of potions that kept them clean and repelled water and infectious agents.

The healing poultice had long turned dry and crusty, but beneath that…

“Oo, that’s quite the scar,” Shanerhart commented.

Under the bandage a long, raised, reddish-brown, ugly, welt-like scar ran along the length of Alex’s forearm. It was ragged, like a dull blade had sawed through it. No wonder it had bled so much. Disturbingly, it reminded him of the scar that had led him to call the demon responsible for it, Burn-Saw.

“Well,” Shanerhart said. “It could be a lot worse.”

‘People keep saying that,’ Alex thought.

“If it’s any consolation,” the medic said. “It looks nasty, but it shouldn’t cause you any discomfort, pain, or loss of motion as time passes. I’ll give you an ointment to rub it with every night for the next few weeks. It should keep the scar from tightening, if you use it faithfully. Don’t forget now, some women like that kind of thing. It makes you look more adventuresome.”

Shanerhart winked with the monocled eye, giving him a bit of a creepy look. Alex just smiled politely.

‘Well I’m sure Theresa’s parents won’t like it.’ He turned his arm back and forth, examining the scar from every angle. ‘And neither will Selina.’

Seeing the scar made everything that had happened recently snap into sharp focus, like it was a preview of things for the future. He swallowed. A year ago, getting a scar like the one running along his forearm would have scared him into forgetting all about expeditions, and looking for a nice job behind the biggest, safest desk he could find.

But Wizardry was dangerous…and the more Alex learned about the world, the more he came to understand that even if he didn’t go looking for violence and danger, then it would have no problem coming to him. The demon summoner, mana vampires and The Ravener, proved that.

Sure, he was still nervous about the expedition, but he, his friends and colleagues from the university would be tackling a dangerous foe head-on, instead of letting it run rampant.

Some of Gemini’s words from the memorial ceremony came to mind: you are the sort of people that make others around you safer just by being nearby.

Just like the silver pin he’d received from the university, this scar was a badge representing that. He’d bear it with pride…especially when Theresa’s parents weren’t looking.

“We could probably make it fade somewhat.” Shannerhart adjusted his monocle while he leaned over and examined the scar again. “A little bit of Skin Renewal Poultice and it would be much less noticeable. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“No, not really,” Alex said. “I think I’ll keep it just the way it is. If anything, it’ll remind me of…a lot of things.”

“Very well, then.” Shannerhart moved away. “In that case, I declare you a free man, Mr. Roth.”

Alex thanked the blood mage and left the examining room, stepping into the busy hallway while adjusting the sleeve of his shirt before he entered the waiting room where Theresa, Mrs. Lu and Selina sat. Mr. Lu was probably outside with Brutus and Claygon.

“Alex! How’d it go?” Theresa asked, getting to her feet quickly.

“I only have three days to live,” he said mournfully. “I came to say goodbye to you all.”

All three of their faces immediately went from ‘worried’ to ‘unimpressed’.

“Aw, that’s too bad. I guess that means there’s no birthday for you,” Selina said.

“Whoa whoa whoa, did I say three days?” Alex said quickly, enjoying the fact he could raise both hands again in a ‘slow down’ gesture. “Sorry, the pain from this deadly wound must be messing with my mind: I meant to say, like…two weeks and three days. Just enough for you to get me birthday pres-Hey wait! Wait, where're you all going?”

His family was swiftly walking toward the door without a single look back at him.

“How dare you abandon a dying maaaaan!” he called after them.

They began to walk faster, trying to exit the building as quickly as possible. Pushing the doors open, Selina even turned to shut them before he could get through.

“Hey!” Alex followed, bursting through the doors after them.

A startled Mr. Lu and Brutus turned toward him.

“What happened?” the older man asked.

“Mr. Lu, they’re so cruel to me!” Alex said mournfully.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m dying, and they’re abandoning me-”

“He’s not dying, father,” Theresa said dryly.

“Oh that’s fine then,” Mr. Lu said and casually joined his wife, daughter and Alex’s sister in walking away quickly. “If you’ve got the energy for jokes, then you must be fine!”

Alex sighed, looking over at his golem. “Oh, Claygon, you’re the only one that appreciates me.”

His golem did not make a single movement or noise in response.

Alex was sure he was just imagining a look of disappointment on Claygon’s sculpted face.

After Alex had given his family a serious report on how he was actually doing, the young wizard took his golem and went to see someone he’d been hoping to meet up with for at least a week.

Arriving at the top of the castle, his knuckles poised over a set of fancy double doors when they suddenly opened on their own.

“Ah, Alex, I’ve been expecting you,” Baelin said as he—and a small army of silver-glowing Wizard’s Hands—wrote and signed a mountain of paperwork that rose across his desk. “I unfortunately do not have much time to chat today, but I am glad to see that you came by.”

“Glad you made time for me, Baelin,” Alex said, shutting the doors behind him. “Is uh…now a bad time?”

“Nonsense, I was in need of a little break anyway. The last week has been a marathon.” Baelin finished signing a final sheet of parchment then slid it away with a look of disgust. “Have a seat.”

The chancellor looked at Claygon, examining the golem for a moment. “And how are you, my large friend?”

The golem did not respond.

“Ah, well, worth a try.” He turned his gaze back to Alex as the young man sat down in front of the desk. “No further signs of developing intellect?”

“Well, about that,” Alex said. “That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

He told Baelin about the incident with the rain, where it seemed like Claygon had shielded him and his books at his own initiative.

“Fascinating,” the ancient wizard said, drawing his hand through his beard-braids. He glanced back at Claygon before turning back to Alex. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” the younger wizard said. “Do you have any idea what could be going on?”

“Hmmmm.” Baelin tapped his fingers on the table. “There have been incidents of magical items gaining intelligence in the past quite spontaneously: I once knew a warrior whose blade had a simple enchantment that sharpened its edge and made it nearly impossible to dull or break. After carrying the thing for a while, the sword suddenly began speaking and singing, if you can believe that.”

“That sounds like it could be…annoying.”

“Oh it was. Dreadfully so. Unfortunately, no one was able to determine how the change had come about. As I said, there is some spontaneity when it comes to magical items and constructs gaining intelligence. I suspect that in your Claygon’s case, the only spice that will stimulate his growing mind will be time, though I am not sure. And what about evolution?”

“There’s been nothing on that,” Alex said.

“Ah, I suspected as much. With golems made from chaos essence, their triggers for evolution vary as much as…well, the roiling bed of chaos itself. However, while the dungeon core’s substance shares a lot of similarity in composition to chaos essence, it is a different material, after all. I suspect that the trigger for Claygon’s evolution will likely come from other dungeon cores, their monsters, or this Ravener.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable,” Alex said. “I guess we’ll see when the expedition starts, then. Speaking of that, when do you think we’ll be going?”

“End of summer most definitely,” Baelin said. “Everyone is anxious to get started, but, if I am to have the time to spare to see to this properly, we will have to settle all of the paperwork in the aftermath of Leopold Richter’s atrocities against the city before we can embark. His attacks have also caused some…concerns among other officials. People are arguing that more muscle will be needed to protect the less combat-ready researchers. That involves discussion, sourcing and the hiring of warriors and battlemages.”

“Well, better to do this with the best resources instead of rushing in too early.”

“Agreed…now, how is your arm? I see your bandages are off.”

“Yeah, there’s a scar there, but I’m just thankful that I still have the arm…which reminds me,” Alex said. “I think I have a lead on The Traveller.”

“Truly.” Baelin’s eyes grew sharp. “Do tell.”