It was close to midnight, but the caffeine from the tea had me as alert as ever. Hruk appeared super charged as well, as he quietly tinkered away in a quiet corner. Poltergeists moved tools, weapons, and brick-a-brac around him. Hruk paid them no mind. He sat on the floor with several aetherite fragments, etching tools, and odd bits around him. I couldn’t tell whether he was truly focused, or the work helped distract him from all the spectres.

I knew better than to bother him while he was focusing. After watching Ozman, I understood that rune-scribing was delicate work. Ignoring me was likely for the best, since a single misstep would waste the limited materials we had on hand. Much to my surprise, he didn’t have any aether core out. Instead, Hruk busied himself drawing out a network of geometric shapes filled with several criss-crosses of runes. I guessed it was a preliminary sketch before he etched onto the intended surface.

Meanwhile, I found Edgar sticking close by me. The shade didn’t have eyes—none that I could see anyway—but I could feel him occasionally glancing at me. I tried to put some distance between us, trying to escape the frigid aura, but failed. He followed me as I pretended to study the crumbling fort’s furnishings and the kitchens where Liv had prepared our food. I shot him a friendly smile every now and again and tried to excuse myself, but to no avail.

“Can I help you, Edgar?” I asked, much too rudely, when he bumped into me and left me squirming. “I don’t mean any offence, of course. It’s just your aura isn’t particularly compatible with my halfling constitution.”

“My apologies,” Edgar said, dropping into an alarming low bow. I worried he was going to prostate himself to apologise for a moment. It felt wrong, given how much power Analysis claimed shades held. “It’s your cape, Mastery Perry. May I see it?”

“This old thing?” I held up the patchwork cape, glancing at it. “It’s just an ordinary—”

“I can sense the darkness within, Master Perry. Its true form. Can you show it to me, please? It might look like a gleeman cloak, but I know it’s more than that.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I obliged. Unlike Sasha, the cape lacked an aether core. However, I could sense a wellspring of mana somewhere around the collar. I had used it once while escaping the pursuing skinks and still needed to get used to the function.

Even though it didn’t look like much in its current form and didn’t have a mana signature, Edgar still sensed there was something special about Gram’s cloak. I guessed his existence as a shade or spectre had something to do with his special detection powers. I didn’t particularly want to lose mana just to appease him, but it felt like a worthy cost to get rid of him.

It took a moment of closing my eyes and focusing to tap into my mana well. Much like the Satchel Monster spell, the cloak didn’t demand a onetime mana cost to activate. Instead, it wanted half of my total stores. Using it while keeping Doctor Whoo in her miniature form reduced my stores to only seventeen-per-cent of the total. Fortunately, I didn’t need the energy for much besides feeding my magical tools whenever they ran low.

After the brief rest in the fort, all but the Wand of Shaping were at capacity. I had created several obstacles and barricades for the skinks while escaping, draining its stores to almost zero. Now it was at half the maximum capacity and would have to suffice. Besides, I’d need the cloak active for when we exited the fort. It didn’t hurt to activate it early.

My mana flowed up my spine and disappeared into the cloak’s collar through my neck. Once fed, darkness leaked out from in between the patches, coating the garment and increasing its length and width. Within moments, it looked as if a shade had draped itself around me.

Much to my horror, the powerful necromantic magic and shadow-manipulating spectre placed his face on the ground. “Hail, Lord of Shadows!” He exclaimed.

“Easy there, big guy!” I yelled, hopping back for him as his head moved close to my feet, making a puckered kissing sound. “You need to ask for consent first. I’m not your Lord of Shadows!”

“But that cloak contains his essence! Lord of Shadows ripped off his own mantle and draped it around you. You must be his champion!”

He crawled at me like a spider kissing at my feet, forcing me to scramble onto a nearby piece of furniture.

“No means no, buddy,” I said. “If I were his champion, you wouldn’t want to offend me by forcing your affections on me, would you?”

“My worship offends you?” Edgar paused, looking up at me. If he had eyes. He’d likely resemble a puppy.

“Your chosen method of worship offends me,” I replied. “Are you his acolyte?”

“No such thing, champion. While warm blood flowed through my veins, I only worshipped mana. However, now that I am made of shadows itself, I understand that he was among the divine entities that designed creatures such as I. Necromantic magic isn’t his game, but my power to shape and summon shadows comes from him.”

“Then you haven’t personally met the Lord of Shadows, unlike me. He’s a ‘worship from afar’ kind of guy. So, I’d appreciate it if you did the same for his essence.”

Edgar hesitated. The blackness that formed his body rippled for a moment before he stood up straight. “I understand. Apologies for my indiscretion.”

“It’s fine, mate. Just got to remember to respect a no.”

“I understand.” Edgar bowed once again. “The troops should be ready. Should we head down?”

I nodded, following him towards the stairs. A large chunk of the stone structure had crumbled long ago. Edgar walked down half of it before merging with the wall. He continued down the missing section as a two-dimensional shadow before growing out of the wall again.

Meanwhile, I took a running start and leapt. Now that my Dexterity had entered the twenties, my control over my body had increased too. Four units of strength gave me sufficient power to launch myself off the top step and when I landed, I had little trouble regaining my balance. A smile spread across my lips. It wasn’t much, but I felt a glimmer of pride. The height concerned me more than the distance, but it felt like no big deal at all.

Clanging reached my ears long before reaching ground level. I struggled to place the sound, leading me to worry the kobolds had found the courage to sneak into the fort—given how they’d skidded to a halt during our entrance, I was sure they feared the structure.

My eyes widened on reaching the bottom of the stairs. The suits of armour that had previously served as decoration along the corridors now marched down the halls, gathering in the main hall. They carried polearms, war hammers, shields, and a variety of one-handed weapons. None wielded swords. They remained on the walls and the animated armours appeared to prefer staying unarmed over wielding them. A quick Analysis proved that they were all poltergeists controlling the metal.

“They were all peasants once upon a time,” Edgar told me. “A sword is a nobleman’s weapon. They require expensive tutelage, a decent blacksmith, and time. We common folk never had that benefit. Unlocking new weapon masteries is impossible after death, too. So, they go with whatever they know best: sticks with pointy or bludgeoning elements on the end.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “I always thought swords are overrated, anyway. It’s all about axes and spears.”

“I agree.”

We were heading towards the front gate when Hruk came running. He skidded to a halt and pressed a metal flask into my hands. The container felt cold to the touch and sloshed when I shook it. Analysis gave me the information I wanted.

Refilling Flask of Ice-Cold Water

Even though they were once water elementals, ice elementals prefer remaining immobile and might as well be the embodiment of laziness. They want to see the world but would much rather be carried around by the wind or have someone else do the legwork. As a result, they’re willing to lend their powers to other organisms for food and travel.

The flask’s runes gather water from the air and the elemental cleans it and stores it inside the flask.

“This is amazing, Hruk!” I exclaimed. “You made this in what, a couple of hours?”

“Most of the time went into designing the rune and coaxing my primary elemental to give up one of her offspring. We managed to come to a deal, fortunately.” He grinned, brushing back his fiery red mohawk. “The water should be clean, but it might be a bit on the colder side.”

“That’s perfect,” I said, uncorking the flask and taking a long swig. It was my first drink of water that didn’t taste like the swamp in days. It cooled my throat and my stomach. After months of icy drinking and bathing water in Grog’s Table, the temperature didn’t bother me. “Thanks, mate. I think I’m ready to face the skinks now. Hopefully, this will be easier than facing Kraine.”

“You’re better equipped and stronger now, Perry,” Hruk told me, smiling. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not one to believe in such a thing, but I hope you didn’t just jinx us.”