“How can such a little thing hit so hard?” Ella said, rubbing the bruises across her body as they lay across from each other in the barracks.

They had gotten a few strange looks, but after a while, the other soldiers simply dismissed Ella as a quirk of Cal being a Wizard and further evidence that he couldn’t possibly as common as he professed to be.

Nobles often took their servants or trusted slaves with them anywhere they went.

“You got in a few good hits, too. She’s probably got at least six Breaks and trainers whose job is making sure she makes the most of them.” Cal said.

Ella blinked. “She’s an Aiaka?” her jaw slowly dropped.

“Not what you would consider a natural one.” Cal said, flipping onto his back. “Man-made. There’s probably a guy out there whose only job it is to do the math on when exactly Kala should stop raising a single primary Attribute and start getting skills and spreading out her points. I wouldn’t be surprised. Her Mind and Body are probably much higher than they should be, with only a handful of skills, While a ‘natural’ Aiaka’s abilities would be more organically spread out, along with being vastly more experienced at using them in a combat situation.”

“Kala’s an Aiaka…” Ella whispered, staring into the distance.

Cal rolled his eyes. His body was sore from being kicked around by Kala, but he had gotten a few good hits in with the practice sword himself, enough to make her take him seriously, so he knew she wasn’t nearly as good as Karen.

Far stronger and faster than him, though.

Ella had been learning how to use a shield. It wasn’t a typical skill for Genosians or Gadverans to learn, since it wasn’t good for hunting, and Gadverans didn’t favor it. There was a dusty practice shield in the corner though, and after hearing Cal’s stories about his Aiakan mother, she decided to try it.

She took to it well, her larger frame giving her a ridiculous range of motion with the heavy wood and steel kite. She’d even given Kala a bloody nose when she’d used her chainless flail in a novel way, shoving the shield into Kala’s personal space unexpectedly and swinging Crusher around the edge, completely unhindered by the inch and a half of wood and steel between the head and the haft of the weapon.

Cal had seen Kala go down in a spray of blood, and for a second he thought he and Ella were going to be summarily executed, but General Andra had watched with satisfaction as Kala dragged herself back to her feet, and proceeded to never fall for that trick again.

That was when Cal stopped holding back for fear of reprisal, but it didn’t make a big difference. He’d gotten in a couple hits every now and then, but he still lost more than he won through sheer difference in physical talent. By the time they had worked off their extra energy to Lance’s satisfaction, all three of them were sweaty and bruised.

There was still room for improvement for Cal, but it wasn’t on the practice yard. Bent use was forbidden on the practice yard, because they couldn’t afford for footsoldiers to wait a week to get all their Bent back if the enemy came knocking on the door the next day. That and the leadership was wary of a poorly aimed Air Blade coming out of nowhere and cutting someone’s head off.

That was why Cal needed to get Shadow Boxing as soon as he could. A safe way to train his skills at no cost was worth its weight in Nem. Even with the hectic life of a low-ranking new recruit, he still knew what his goals were.

“I’m going to meditate, Pinch me if something happens,” Cal.

“Hard?” Ella asked.

“Hard.”

“You got it.”

Cal took one last look at the timeworn wood ceiling before closing his eyes.

Eye of the Tiger

The constant chatter of young men and women faded away in an instant as Cal reached a dreamlike state, floating in a void of his own making. Time passed while Cal mused over recent events, using his absolute focus to practice, review his recent lessons, ranks and the names and faces of his fellow recruits.

Meditation has reached Level 9

Level 9: Boosts ability to ignore distractions and disassociate. 45% correction.

***

He must had fallen asleep at some point, because his eyes flashed open to the sound of shouting and running feet.

“Out of the bed you gringel farmers! I swear a gardor in hibernation moves faster than you!” Lance shouted, clapping his meaty hands together and walking from bed to bed, using his superior weight to kick new recruits unceremoniously out of bed.

Gadverans didn’t typically wear underwear, and Calvin saw Ella wince when one girl tumbled out of her bed in the buff and slammed straight down onto her chest.

“Ow,” She said, slipping her ravaged Gadveran clothes on. They’d tried to put her in a uniform, and she’d nearly bit someone’s finger off until Cal had pointed out that she wasn’t technically part of the army. The following several hours of pushups had changed his mind, and eventually Ella had agreed to wear them.

Lance glanced over at Ella, and spotted the ragged edges where she had torn away the legs and sleeves of her uniform, to match Genosian style.

Here we go, Cal thought, sliding his pants on as quickly as he could. At the very least he’d like to be fully dressed when the inevitable punishment came. Lance’s face crumpled into a mask of anger, but he didn’t approach them, instead continuing his circuit around the barracks, putting a sense of urgency in even the groggiest members.

That can’t be good, Cal thought with a sinking stomach. The only reason Lance would ignore something like the destruction of a uniform would be if there was something incredibly pressing going on right now, and it would inevitably be worse for Cal than some corporal punishment. Calvin sped up.

A distant, muffled explosion confirmed Cal’s suspicions, rocking the entire barracks. Bits of dust fell from the thick wooden beams above them, and Cal buckled his pants faster than he ever had before, grabbing his folded shirt and tossing it over his head.

Nice, your intuition has come a long way. Elliot’s thoughts reverberated in his mind.

What’s the difference? Cal thought as he hustled out the door. What does Intuition even do? All the village elders spoke in allegory, like the difference between seeing the sun and feeling it’s warmth and being sure it was there.

Pfft, hahaha. Well, let me see if I can define it.

“Line up on the east side of the yard in front of one of the sergeants you see there, twenty deep. Move your asses!” Lance shouted as the recruits streamed out of the Barracks, pointing to where ten grizzled men and women were standing, waiting for their groups.

This all seems highly informal.

Like they’re picking teams for dodgeball.

Cal and Ella were about to jump into the third line, but Lance dragged him aside.

“Wait here, Andra’s got a job picked out for you already.”

While Cal cooled his heels and studied the rising plume of smoke above the city walls, Elliot went into detail about the attribute.

Intuition and intelligence are not the same, although they are linked. A highly intelligent person can still be stupid as shit if they take everything at face value and never ask the question why. Why is the core of Intuition. Why is that guy wearing fancy shoes and shabby clothes? Why did she throw wine in your face when your friend was the one who said something mean? Why, why why.

In essence, Intuition raises your critical thinking and keeps you asking the question Why. You didn’t really question anything when you were younger, am I right?

You don’t have to remind me.

In addition to the way it alters your thinking, it’s also the determining factor in the power of spells that effect other Users, usually their mind. Those Ilethan fellows have high Intuition, which helps them decode your resistance faster than otherwise, which leads to more powerful illusions and mind-control, etc.

Is Ella’s Paralysis spell like that?

And Kala’s Commanding Voice. Both use Intuiton to apply their effect to you. Think of it like...you’re a swimming pool, and your Stability is the size of the pool, and your Will is the filter.

Cal squinted. He wasn’t entire sure what a swimming pool was. Like a pool of water specifically for swimming? In Deinos, swimming was a good way of being eaten by norlocks. Could there be people who had enough time and money to dedicate entire ponds simply to swimming? Was Elliot one of them?

Think of the spell as a dye. They want to turn your pool red, or blue, so they pour the dye into it. If your Stability, that is, your pool is exceptionally big, then the dye won’t really do much. Too much water to dye it all.

Elliot kept going without acknowledging Calvin’s thoughts.

Then your Will filters out the effect over time. The opposite could theoretically be true, you could have high Will and low Stability, then your pool would be dyed by other’s magic easily, but clear up very quickly. Although having high attributes of each kind is recommended.

You might ask why Intuition doesn’t help with other spells, and that’s because the nonliving universe you are interacting with doesn’t have Stability or Will. It simply isn’t plugged into the System, and can’t resist. Anything that directly affects another User however, is going to be severely restricted.

Setting them on fire doesn’t count?

You weren’t setting them on fire, you were creating flaming material very close to them. Them burning wasn’t the direct effect of the spell, it was the effect of the material created by the spell.

I think I get it.

Glad I could help.

“What’s going on?” Ella said as another explosion shook the ground under their feet.

“The Ilethans have shown up. We’re at war.”

“The trade people? But they’re so weak.”

Cal cocked an eyebrow and glanced over at the well-meaning Genosian. A shadow flickered overhead.

“Down!” Lance shouted, forcing Cal to the ground with a thick arm.

A barrel big enough to square dance on fell out of the sky and slammed into the barracks before the entire structure was consumed by a fiery explosion.

A storm of hot dust and shrapnel washed over them, and when it passed, Cal saw Ella standing in front of him, hand covering her eyes, skin silvery and reflective.

“Apparently you’ve never heard of siege weaponry.” Cal said, flicking bits of barracks off his lieutenant uniform as Ella stared at the destroyed building, reduced to flaming bits of rubble.

“Alas, my memories of losing my virginity will have to live on inside me, for the place itself has taken a pounding.” One of the more poetic grunts said, while the others chuckled.

Cal could see in their eyes they were covering the fear of death with bawdy humor.

Intuition…. Elliot whispered.

Lance glanced up at the wall, where someone was signaling him with some kind of flag. Cal didn’t know exactly what they were saying, but he pointed up at the wall.

“The general wants you up on the northeast wall.” He said, “Get yourself and your savage some armor, then get up there. Don’t make her wait.”

Calvin could feel a bit of ire at the ‘savage’ comment, despite feeling it was objectively true. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the Guya or the last few weeks together that was triggering it, though. Rather than argue about it, he simply nodded and started running for the armory, trailing Ella behind him.

Cal ran into the armory, which was a confusing mess of activity, clattering steel and cursing as men and woman strapped Gadveran light armor on. They were in such a rush that many of them were ignoring the posted rules that dictated they carry their armor to the changing area, and simply changing where they stood, clogging up the already claustrophobic room.

An older man, skinny with a jutting chin and grey hairs, walked up to the two of them, giving ella a second glance before addressing Cal.

“Size?” he asked brusquely.

Cal gave him his and Ella’s sizes, and the man pointed out where they could find armor that would fit them. A second later the Quartermaster was demanding the size of the next person through the door, hot on Cal’s heels.

They bobbed and weaved through the choked hall full of half-dressed soldiers, occasionally getting slammed against racks of formed steel, but without enough time to stop and see who had done it.

“Here,” Cal said, pointing out a suit of hardened leather in Ella’s size. It was the only one, seeing how few soldiers were actually her size.

Cal spent a minute helping Ella put the armor on, buckling the sides and back while she got the front. He felt a bit of her softness beneath his knuckles as he worked the straps, and it might have been extremely interesting if they weren’t in such a hurry.

As if to emphasize Cal’s thoughts, an explosion rocked the entire armory, spilling razor sharp swords on the ground and knocking several dressing people onto their asses.

Cal ignored a sudden scream of pain and finished Ella’s armor before moving on to his own: a simple breastplate and helmet to protect his vitals. He wanted to stay as light as he could, especially since his Strength wasn’t high enough to wear tons of protective gear without being slowed to a crawl.

Cal slung the spell component holster around his waist once he was done, making sure he could still draw them easily. He still only had the slime, most likely someone didn’t trust him with that kind of firepower.

I don’t have to have them in my hand when I use Splitting, I just have to have a really precice idea of where they are in relation to me. Being in my hand helps. But maybe with practice, I could use them from something more stable than a holster, like a bracer, or embedded in a piece of armor.

You could always fuse a component to a bone and hide it under your skin.

That sounds painful and dangerous and stupid.

Sure, with modern medicine in its current state. Back in my day people did subdermals all the time.

So you agree it’s stupid.

Eh.

Calvin and Ella hustled out of the armory, marching past the Quartermaster, who was watching an unfortunate recruit bandage his own foot where he’d stepped on a fallen sword, making a little puddle of blood just at the entrance. A few uncaring feet had begun tracking the blood in and out of the building, and call steered himself around the mess.

We’re about to see a lot more of that, Cal thought, his heart hammering in his chest as he glanced up at the city wall looming over them. The tops of the walls to the east were just beginning to receive the light of dawn from the sun peeking above the ocean, and Cal could see a flurry of activity there.

No time like the present to start working on my goal.

Wizard-King

Cal straightened his poorly fitted helmet and yanked the strap under his chin tight before following the stream of soldiers heading for the walls.

The extra fifteen pounds of armor slowed Cal down as he raced up the steps, and he shuddered to think what would have happened if he had a full suit, reaching the top of the stairs panting with exertion.

Cal made it to the top of the stairs, squinting his eyes against the sunlight reflected off the time-worn stone as the pressure of bodies around him lessened. Gadveran troops broke left and right, taking positions along to front of the walls.

Cal’s eyes needed a moment to adjust, viewing the army ahead of them cast in the shadow of Mujenan’s walls. It was mind-bogglingly bigger than he had imagined. Row after rows of ilethan was assembled in a sea of manpower that stretched farther than the eye could see. Manpower and guarpower.

Entire cavalry units riding the ornery lizards took up more space than the village of Deinos,

In the distance, trebuchets taller than any structure he’d ever imagined were hauling gigantic barrels full of flame forward, slinging them over hundreds of feet, arcing their payloads above their heads, destroying buildings, starting fires, and generally causing chaos.

Cal had never imagined anything like it.

“That’s a lot of Ilethan,” Ella said, eyes wide.

General Andra was pacing back and forth behind the row of bodies, overlooking the soon-to be battlefield when she spotted Calvin approaching her.

“Lieutenant, nice of you to join us.”

Cal saluted, right this time. Gotta play the game.

“What do you need, general?” He asked, mimicking his idea of a professional.

He felt approval from her gaze a fraction of a second before she nodded. Apparently he’d done well enough.

“Nothing yet. What is the maximum range on that spell of yours? Could you light up those trebuchets?” She asked, pointing out the massive constructions lobbing fire over their heads. In her other hand, Cal noticed her thumbing his Fireball component.

Could I do that?

No, the range of dupdomancy is level squared in feet, paralleling your mass limit. In your case, one hundred and twenty one feet. Those things are five hundred feet away, easy.

“One hundred and twenty one feet. I can’t reach them, General.” Cal did some quick math. Although I could once Dupdomancy reaches level twenty three.

Probably not gonna happen in this battle.

She clicked her tongue. “Guess we gotta wait for the prince.” She stared at the battlefield for a moment, her face grim.

“You see that improbably large army marching toward us?” she said, pointing at the ocean of shiny Ilethan helmets and indigo colored garb.

“Yeah?”

“Hundred to one odds it’s guar shit. The Ilethans love their illusions, and they’re probably creaming in their silk robes hoping we’ll use up our arrows and spells on fake troops. I’ve been holding fire until we have a way to establish which units are real.”

Cal heaved an internal sigh of relief and thanked the gods the numbers below them weren’t true. Probably.

“I want you to use your wasps, spread them out thin among the enemy and let them do what they do best.”

“You want me to use the wasps to reveal which ones are real.” Cal said, nodding.

“Good, you follow me. Get to work.”

Andra turned back to the archers on the wall.

“Get your bows up and keep your eyes sharp! If any of these blue pussies starts dancing funny, put an arrow through his eye! Save your Bent for high priority targets!”

Cal stepped up to the parapet and held his hand out. The fact that the parapet was about the same height as the training haybales didn’t escape his notice.

Calvinian summoning.

8/11 Bent Remaining

Black Bent traveled down the veins of his arm, then emerged from his palm in a cloud of green vapor, flickering as it constructed tiny bundles of flying pain.

The Gadveran soldiers standing next to him flinched backward as horrendous swarm of over a hundred thousand Fever wasps flew out in a malicious cloud.

At a mental nudge, the swarm flew down and out, spreading themselves out as thin as they could before they began mindlessly stinging anything they landed on.

In a matter of seconds, well defined units of real Ilethans were flinching and slapping at the tiny insects, while their illusionary counterparts continued to march on, heedless of the bugs.

“AHahahah!” Andra cackled madly. “light them up!”

A storm of arrows descended from the either side of the general, targeting the isolated units, who broke and ran under the assault.

She glanced back at Calvin with a happy grin.

“You should be ducking.”

A glint of light from the sky was the only warning Cal got, prompting him to duck behind the parapet. An arrow passed through the space where his head had been. Cal rolled on reflex once he hit the ground. It had been ingrained on him through the hours and hours of drilling.

Why do I have to do this when I’m already behind the parapet?

Cal’s question was answered when a second arrow blew a white hot hole through the stone parapet, burying itself to the fletching in the top of the wall before the resulting friction made the feathers catch fire. It landed in the exact spot he’d dropped to.

A third arrow arced down from the sky, targeting General Andra almost as an afterthought. She seemed to see it coming, and leaned forward to put her helmet in front of it.

If she dies, do I get a promotion? Probably not.

Cal expected her to get brain-shot, but the arrow that bored through two feet of stone rebounded off her shiny helmet like a normal arrow. Only the small cracks under her feet where the force had been directed into the ground told a different story.

Lance asking him if he’d invested in any defensive skills made a lot more sense now.

What should I invest in, given the opportunity?

Personally, I prefer defensive skills that don’t require equipment to use properly. Maybe something like Ella’s iron skin, or Toughness?

“Look out!” Ella said, kicking him out of the way of a fourth arrow. The arrow blew through an archer’s leg and drew a line of blood along her metallic skin before it lodged deep in the floor.

“What in the Abyss is the point of the parapet?” Cal demanded over the screaming. “Cuz it doesn’t seem to be doing jack shit.”

“Get Frederick out of here.” She snapped, and two nearby soldiers picked up their bleeding comrade, hauling him to the medic.

“He can’t see you.” Andra said, turning her gaze back to Cal. “That counts for something.” She held out a hand, and a nearby lieutenant handed her a spyglass.

“Now, who the hell is giving us so much trouble?” She muttered, as much to herself as everyone else. The General scrunched her weather-worn face up as she peered through the spyglass.

“Huh,” Andra grunted.

“What?”

“Figures. The Ilethans aren’t known for their archery,” she said with a dour tone before offering him the spyglass.

“You’re fine to stand. They’re waiting for their next target.”

Cal stood and took the spyglass.

“Just behind that trebuchet and to the right,” she said, pointing.

Cal peered through the spyglass, orienting on Andra’s directions.

A small group of Gadveran archers with oversized bows was stationed there, wearing strange steel headbands lined with Ilethan indigo.

One Gadveran in particular stood head and shoulders over his peers.

“Baroke,” Calvin whispered, studying his giant friend’s blank expression.