The first problem Walter considered was where to put his hands. Just before he saddled up with her he debated whether to put his hands on her or keep them to himself.

He decided to put his hands on her waist, at the least. Not doing so would make him look meek and she seemed really put off by that. Plus, it was a bit of a safety issue and he would be pressed up against her back anyway.

My hands shouldn’t matter. Especially since she’s wearing armor. Right?

Walter would have thought more on the matter but, while he was standing there thinking, she impatiently asked, “What are you waiting for?”

When he put his hands on her waist he couldn’t help but feel good about it.

Then he could see the [Scales of Love and Passion], in his mind’s eye, that curse Ouroboros put on the two of them. On her side several weights appeared and it slowly tilted.

Elin’s entire body stiffened up and she let out what sounded like a half-cough-half-gasp.

Wait. What? Why did it do that?! What did I do wrong?!

Instinctively Walter jerked his hands away.

“Don’t! Just leave them there! I don’t want you falling off!” she hissed.

He quickly did as he was bid to do, as he wanted to avoid any more weights added to the scales. The opposite happened. Several more weights were added to her side, anyway.

She ducked her head and pressed her fingers into her forehead.

“Right. Okay. Just, don’t do anything else, alright? Just calm down.”

“Sorry. I will. I don’t know why it keeps adding weight to your side.”

“We’re not talking about my side of the scales,” she said firmly, as if burying a feeling of panic.

The second problem was the rocking motion of the horse. Although Walter did his best not to put his entire weight on Elin he couldn’t help but rub against her. Even in her half-plate armor you could still tell she was a woman. It was very easy to feel her body through the metal.

She smells nice. Like flowers. I can’t quite put my finger on which ones...

Suddenly her scale filled up most of the way. It was tilting dangerously low.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, appalled, stretching to turn and stare at him. She was just as aware of the scales as he was.

“Nothing!”

“You did something!”

“I really didn’t!”

“Well whatever you’re not doing stop doing it!”

“I really have no idea what’s causing your scale to fill up, I swear! The priestess only explained what my scale did!”

“Fine,” she breathed out, relenting, turning back to the front, “Idrin give me strength.”

Walter cleared his throat, nervously.

After a few minutes of silence he asked, “What’s it like in the town of Letun?”

“It’s a good town, filled with honest people,” Elin responded, “They take pride in the town’s appearance. It’s probably one of the most beautiful towns you’ll visit in the kingdom.”

Thank goodness she doesn’t hold a grudge.

“Is it a large town?” Walter asked.

“Aren’t they all?”

“Hmm. I suppose so. I mean, I don’t know how large this world’s towns are.”

“Well, you’ll see for yourself, soon enough.”

“Have you been there before?”

“Yes. I spent the last of my childhood there.”

“Before you joined the knights, you mean?”

“I didn’t apply to the knights. You’re selected when you turn an adult.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

“No.”

“I see. That’s sad.”

“Why is it sad?” Elin turned her head for a moment to glance at Walter from the corner of her eye. She looked genuinely confused. “It’s my privilege to serve in the knights. Do they not have a sense of duty where you’re from?”

Walter pondered it a moment. The closest he could imagine anyone performing a, ‘duty,’ on the same intensity of Elin would be a policeman, and even they didn’t come close.

No wonder she doesn’t like me.

Finally, he responded, “No, not really.”

“To me, that is sad,” she waited a beat before she followed up, “Who protects you from the Spawn of Ouroboros? Do you have [Heroes]?”

“We don’t have monsters in my world. Or [Heroes].”

“None? What about magic?”

“No, no magic, either.”

“Then how do you get healed?”

“We have doctors. They can heal us but they don’t need magic.”

Elin fidgeted with the reigns a moment, “To live in such a peaceful world… what would possess you to cross a [Dimensional Portal]?”

“I didn’t. I don’t know how I ended up here. I mean, I know you pulled me through the portal but I don’t remember stepping into one. I went to sleep. When I woke up I was struggling with Ouroboros.”

It’s probably for the best I don’t tell her I passed out at my computer binging on Sorcery Chronicle.

A few moments passed.

Elin asked tentatively, “Walter? Do you have any special skills?”

Uh oh. She’s still holding out hope I’m a [Hero]. I’m just a regular dude. No, I’m not even normal, I barely left the house and spent every waking minute playing games. A total shut-in, even if I still had a job. Man, why couldn’t I have taken up one normal hobby? Like martial arts? I always used to imagine about being stuck in a video game world. But I never imagined I’d be stuck as myself and not my character!

“Well, I can program. I used to do that as a side-job.”

I mean, I modded games. I never officially learned programming. More of a coder? Script kiddie? It’s true enough I made money on it. From mod downloads, anyway.

“What is program?”

“Programming? It’s giving instructions to computers,” he volunteered more information, anticipating her next question, “Computers are a device that can calculate extremely quick, display images, and make sounds.”

Walter opened his mouth to say more but then closed it. He realized he couldn’t adequately explain it. He never put deep thought on the matter. He could say things, like, “They run on electricity,” and, “Well, I watch movies on them,” but how would that help explain that to someone who didn’t know what those were?

“Will you make one of these computers?”

“I can’t. They’re way too complex for me to make.”

“You just said you gave them instructions.”

“Well, yes, but--”

Elin interrupted him, “So how can you use a tool you can’t even make?”

“That’s… a good question. I’ve always taken it for granted, really. I mean, you don’t exactly know how magic works, right?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Same thing.”

“Magical, but not magical. Yours is a strange world. It’s hard to believe you have no levels.”

“I think everyone in my world might be level zero.”

“How is that possible? How can someone who has no levels make something you describe?”

“Everyone in my world cooperates. Hundreds of people are probably involved in making a computer. Most I will have never even known about.”

“Like a full scale war? To make one tool? Bizarre.”

Walter wanted to say it was machines that did most of the work but stopped himself. He didn’t want to appear any more unusual than he already did. And, frankly, he knew less about those machines than he did about computers.

“Can you tell me about magic?” Walter asked. He had been waiting for a chance all day. He wanted to know just how similar it was to Sorcery Chronicle, and if he could possibly learn it.

“Well, it’s the method of mages. They pull mana from inside themselves and direct it through a spell. The spell then enacts changes on the world.”

“Do they need to use words? Or ingredients?”

“They can but don’t need to. The only words I know are necessary are the name of the spell.”

“So three phases: channeling, realization, and components? I see. That’s good to know.”

Elin stopped the horse. She shifted her legs to slide sideways in the saddle to look him square in the face. She had a stern expression.

“Wizards use those words. How do you know that?”

“Elin, wait a moment--”

“Answer me,” she ordered like an investigator catching a criminal.

Her thigh had swung a little too far and put pressure on Walter’s groin. During the ride he was struggling to keep himself distracted to avoid something humiliating, which was the entire reason for the conversation. Now she had accidentally brought his full attention to between his legs, and her leg was across his lap, even accidentally, he could feel the pressure building--

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Walter watched as Elin’s side of the scales completely filled up and dipped all the way down. The weights on both sides spilled off and the scales reset to neutrality.

Elin, however, was anything but the picture of neutrality, and her face was the definition of mortified. She immediately sat up straight and, even through her armor, Walter could feel her back stiffen up. The tips of her ears were rosy red. It slowly spread over her whole ear, across her cheeks, face, and then down her neck. After a moment she started trembling from holding her breath too long.

And now her rear end had put even more pressure directly on Walter’s lap, practically sitting in it. The horse rocked on the next step.

Clink--clink--clink--clink--clink--clink--clink--clink--clink!

The scales tipped, yet again filling her side completely from empty to full, and reset.

“G-gah! Get off! No, wait, not that! I mean--get off the horse! Now! Right now!” she squealed. At this point she had doubled over and was leaning against the horse’s neck to steady herself.

Walter dived off in a flurry, barely catching himself on the ground. He stared at her, stupefied by the image of the knight curling up, panting, and a face flushed scarlett. Fingers from both her hands curled in the horse’s mane and she clenched her eyes shut.

“Firewood! Get firewood! We’re camping here for the night!” Her voice had the quality of a violin being played by a beginner.

He ran.

When Walter returned to the camp with as much firewood as he could carry Elin had already recklessly thrown up half the camp.

“Elin, about what happened--”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

She spent the rest of the night walking around him with far too much berth and avoiding all eye contact. She barely slept, spending most of the night fidgeting, even though both sleeping mats were on opposite sides of the campfire.

The next day’s trip was agonizing. Of course, they had to ride double again. But Elin completely refused to talk. She simply sat straight in the saddle and looked forward.

Walter spent hours thinking about insects, slime, an algebraic equation he thought he forgot in high school, how bad a wet dog smells, and his aunt with the wart on her cheek that gave him the willies.

It was a losing proposition.

His mind, and body, eventually betrayed him. Her hair was glossy and smelled like a hint of flowers. Her skin, what little he could take a peek at was even and smooth. He wondered if it was the same beneath the armor.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

She finally broke the silence.

“Let’s dismount. This horse needs a break.”

Her voice sounded less like a casual suggestion and more like a lethal threat, because she was saying it through grinding teeth. Walter gulped and slowly slid down the horse. They walked a while. He tried to reinitiate a conversation but she refused to talk.

The silent treatment, again.

And so Walter struggled. The same pattern. Anything he didn’t like he desperately imagined.

But he noticed her walk. One step in front of the other in a precise way, heel to toe. Her hips swayed. Not in an overt way but just enough so her rear flexed--

Clink.

She spun on her heel and snapped, “Are you kidding me?!”

Walter was pressing his knuckles into his forehead.

“The problem is the more I try not to think about it the more I think about it!”

“Well,” Elin was exasperated, “Hurry up and get it out of your system!”

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink!

“Stop! Don’t do that you idiot!”

“But you just said--”

“Think in a way you don’t think about it!”

“That’s not even possible!”

“Okay! Okay! Just calm down,” Elin was clearly concerned about the state of her side of the scale, as it dipped precariously low, and her voice was suddenly nervous and placating, “Look, just relax, okay? I’ll get the camp set up and then we take a break from all this travelling. We’ll just go to bed--”

Clink.

It wasn’t hard at all to figure out what popped in Walter’s mind when she mentioned going to bed.

She dived forward, hands outstretched as if to throttle a hated enemy. Then she suddenly moaned and collapsed to her knees. Her fingers gripping the grass to steady herself.

As soon as she could suck in a solid breath she shrieked, “Get firewood!”

----------=====#####=====----------

Elin tightened her fists a few seconds and opened them to steady her hands.

Unpacking the horses was easy. In fact, she rushed to do it. Anything--anything at all--to get her mind off the [Aphrodisiac] spell, the penalty for her sides of the scales tipping. She would even take a pitched battle at this point. But lighting this fire was proving to be too difficult a task.

When the priestess had explained what the [Scales of Love and Passion] was going to do to her she scorned the idea, and wondered if it would bother her all that much. Years of meditation to prepare her for being a paladin would surely be her strength. And, like most young women, she had read that popular love story, if it could be barely called a love story, about Queen Margaret and her own ordeal with the scales and how she held out a year. So how hard could it be?

Pure hubris. [Aphrodisiac] effects were so strong they hurt. Every heartbeat was felt throughout her whole body, and especially between her thighs and on her breasts. She was sure only a war drum was louder. Her blood rushed and she felt lightheaded from the panting. The absolute worst part was she felt like a magnet being drawn directly to the visitor. She might be in line to be a paladin but even paladins are human, they still felt arousal, and she was not unaware of her own body. But she had never felt magical arousal so strong it almost made her pass out. Being stabbed was less of an ordeal.

What really pissed her off was the way he looked at her like she was a puzzle to solve.

She dropped the flint and steel again. She clenched her fists, steadied her hands, picked it up, and kept making sparks.

Elin was not naive to the ways of men, even though she had never taken anyone to her bed, and knew men were instinctive creatures with a bias for looks. She had learned this working alongside mercenaries and heard plenty of their crude stories. Her own looks were the center of a lot of attention. So it wasn’t something he could control, she could reason easily enough, but after the first time the scales tipped she had never felt so vulnerable, and the idea that he could make an attempt for her and she might give in infuriated her.

What made it horrible was each and every time another weight fell on her side of the scales she knew, with absolute certainty, he had thought of her in that way. Whenever he became aroused so too were weights added. That’s how her side worked. If and when he decided to add weights she had no way to stop it, but unfairly his own side he could prevent from filling with obedience.

He had thought of her in the way mercenaries talked and she had no choice but to endure it. At this point some might even call her a dog in heat. Her eyes stung and she blinked to soothe them. They wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. This magical spell pretty much guaranteed he could take her any time he wished and, unless she presented absolutely titanic mental resistance, he could have her on a whim. She didn’t belong to herself anymore.

What if she ended up pregnant? How would she raise a child and complete the trial of, ‘Knight Errant,’ to achieve paladinhood? There’s no way she could leave a child alone in this world. Would they even consider her at all if ‘it’ happened? She would definitely have to sacrifice her dream. Would she have to marry this level zero in case things got too far? Or would he complete her shame by refusing marriage? She realized she didn’t have a say in that, either.

She couldn’t even figure out who he was, and so she was linked to a total stranger. She tried asking about him but the things he talked about were so alien to her they might as well been the babbling of a madman.

Why would Priestess Evelyn send me into the woods with him like this?!

Priestess Evelyn’s orders were without interpretation about not using the curse against him, and since she had acted shamefully at the time she was determined to see that order through. So even that wasn’t a recourse.

She was completely alone and helpless and beholden to a stranger.

She dropped the flint and steel again.

At that she screamed in frustration.

She kicked the small bundle of sticks and tinder out of the makeshift fire pit and sent them scattering across the clearing. Then she kicked one bedding, then the other. The wool blankets and straw mats didn’t go far, because of the wind resistance, so she kicked them again. She glanced at the horse and it spooked, trotting a dozen extra so feet away so it could sprint away, just in case.

“What am I doing?” she muttered, curling up and hugging her knees, “I have to act like a paladin. It’s just another test. I didn’t realize just how much of a trial it is but I’ll pass. It doesn’t matter if I’m the only one who has to endure it. I’ll pass.”

“Are you alright?”

Oh no. Go away. Not right now. Please just go get more firewood. I will actually lose my composure if I hear, ‘clink,’ one more time.

“I heard a scream so I thought you--I mean I thought something happened.”

Like you could help anyway.

“Huh? Looks like some wind disorganized the camp. Must be some strange weather we’re having.”

Why did I laugh at such a stupid joke?

“Hey, tell me to do something.”

“Pardon?” she asked, perplexed, “You don’t have to worry, I’ll get the camp situated I just need a moment.”

“Just do it, please.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine. Light the fire.”

“No.”

Clack. Clack.

Weights fell on his side of the scale. It was the first time she noticed they had different sounds. She twisted her mouth up in confusion.

“What are you doing? You asked me to give you an order?”

“Of course I did. Give me another.”

“Go get the horse, it spooked and trotted off a bit.”

“Nope.”

Clack. Clack. Clack.

“Seriously, what are you doing? We really do need the horse tied up.” Elin sighed. “Look, I don’t want revenge for what happened and if you’re not going to help--”

“This isn’t about payback. It’s a pair of scales, right?”

“Yes? What game are you playing? Why does that matter?” She could feel her heart quicken as her irritation did. The [Aphrodisiac] spell was just about to discontinue but the throbbing had yet to pass.

“And if one side is heavier it takes longer for the other side to tip, right?”

“Right? Oh.” Realization dawned on her face. He was giving her as much leeway as he could. “Go get firewood.”

“Nah.”

Clack. Clack.

When Elin looked at the scales her side, freshly emptied, was lifted up and his, now nearly fully laden, was precariously close to the bottom.

“Thank you, Walter. But what happens if you get careless and your side dips down? Are you okay with this?”

“You’re welcome. If my side dips down then it dips down. No big deal. I can definitely trust you if I’m under a [Charm Person] spell. Hey, look, you’ve done a lot for me already. I can’t say I’m not going to cause more weights to fall on your side of the scale but I will say this is a partial repayment on saving my life, right? You can trust me, too.”

“Well, I don’t take rewards I don’t absolutely need. I only do good deeds for the sake of doing good deeds,” she smirked, “But it’s a start.”

Standing up she dusted her legs off.

She was thinking of him as an adversary this entire time, and now she realized it was an unfair judgement. Lots of men had chased women in an aggressive way. Some crossed the line. But when she thought about it she realized she had only really interacted with mercenaries and soldiers, the vicious type, the type that would grope a weaker woman even if told no. But she never really interacted with non-warriors. Maybe they were different? Maybe his world was different?

“I said I would fix the camp,” Elin lamented.

“Ha, nah, it’s nothing,” he said, dumping the tinder back into the firepit and fixing some of the stones. “Just, uh, don’t tell me not to as an order.”

“Don’t fix the camp,” she said with a simper.

He stopped and gave her a deadpan stare, “Fine. Should I go get the horse?”

“Yes, please do. And then the firewood.”

Walter gave a lazy imitation salute and off he went.

Somehow he found a solution when I was throwing a tantrum. I probably shouldn’t call him an idiot again.

The fire lit on the first try.

Once they settled in she cooked. He tried helping but, when their hands accidentally touched a weight fell on her side of the scales. Now that they figured out how to rebalance each single weight didn’t feel devastating. For now she could be calm about it.

He apologized, though, and retreated.

I wonder if the story of Queen Margaret didn’t tell us everything?

“I’ve never seen a guy help cook. I’m always the one to do it. Are you not worried about looking weak?”

“Well, I mean, I am weak. Besides, if there’s no girls around a guy cooks then, right? It’s not like it suddenly turns weird just because there isn’t a girl around.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I need to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

She tapped the ladle on the pot and looked him in the eye, “How do you know wizard terminology?”

“Oh. That.”

He didn’t say anything for several moments. When he first mentioned it she thought he might be a wizard trying to run a scheme against the temple. The Mage’s Guild and the Temple of the Witness were often at odds, vying for political positions and monopolies on magic usage and item creation, and the Mage’s Guild has always been crafty. Now, after what he did with the scales and from how he acted she couldn’t imagine him even lying to a mirror. So, she waited, as her previous accusation had now just become simple curiosity. Plus, it was her duty to make sure there wasn’t an influence.

“That’s really hard to explain. I guess you could say I learned it from those computers from before? They taught me how magic works. Sort of. I mean--” his voice trailed off and he scratched his head.

There were worlds between them. When people thought of a [Hero] they expected that. In fact, that’s the point and why so many people like the stories, herself included. [Heroes] bring new skills, magic, and prowess to this world to help combat Ouroboros. They bring new ways of thinking and feeling. No one hears in the tales about the difficulties in communicating. They spoke the same language but they said different things.

Elin suspected Walter was also more removed than the [Heroes] were. It wasn’t just the communication--he just didn’t react well with people. Either because he didn’t want to or couldn’t. She wasn’t sure which.

“It’s too bad we don’t have them here. I would like to see what wonders you could do with them,” she mused, stirring the soup.

“Yeah,” Walter replied sadly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I just realized I will never use one again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. They were addicting anyway. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Go ahead.”

He asked many questions about magic, most of which she only had cursory knowledge on. The answers still seems to satisfy his curiosity. After a dozen or so questions he asked about her fighting prowess.

“Well, through training I subsume my maximum magic points and use them to increase my physical abilities in a permanent way.”

“That’s different than Sorcery Chronicle. I mean, maybe it’s not?” He was muttering quietly. She wasn’t even sure if he was talking to her or himself, so she waited. “The mechanics of magic are nearly identical but the character building is different? Or is that maximum magic are skill points?” He looked up and addressed her, finally, “Have you ever seen anyone with more than 100 HP?”

“No, never. Well, some monsters but not many. Why?”

“No reason. I just expected that. In Sorcery Chronicle everyone had only 100 HP and there wasn’t a way to change it. The only way to mitigate damage was through armor and abilities. It was a controversial decision on the developer’s part but it was one of the reasons I liked the game.”

“This scroll sounds very informative. It’s a shame you don’t have it with you.”

Walter opened his mouth to respond then closed it.

“Well, yes, Chronicle was very informative. But I’m not sure how accurate it is. I would like to perform an experiment with you, if you don’t mind?”

“I won’t do anything weird.”

Clink.

Two weights on her side now. She sucked in an impatient breath then cleared her throat. Clearly her comment prompted his imagination.

“Very well.”

“Okay, I haven’t seen you use a gesture yet, so I was wondering if they worked here?”

“I gesture all the time.”

“No, I mean, as a method of increasing your attack.”

“I’m not sure there is such a thing for warriors?”

“Well in Chronicle warriors and wizards follow the same fundamental path for their prowess abilities. So I was wondering if they were the same here?”

“Knights can learn prowess but I don’t know one yet. I haven’t advanced that far in my studies.”

“That doesn’t sound right. You’re level 13, right? That’s far too weak. You should know at least six by now.”

What is this, why is he judging me to be weak? I was defeating full grown men at the age of 12. My first excursion into the Necropolis was at 14. In fact, it wasn’t rare for a warrior to learn more than two in their entire lifetimes. Just what is this idiot saying?

Elin knitted her eyebrows and stared at Walter. She wanted him to know she was miffed.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!”

“It’s fine,” she said sourly, turning her attention to the cooking pot, “Maybe you’re just wrong?”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head, “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

----------=====#####=====----------

I know I’m not wrong. Well, I am wrong but it’s because I don’t have all the information. The magic in this world is definitely like Sorcery Chronicle. But why is it so weak?

Walter fumed. As the campfire burned a bit low he added another log. Elin was wrapped up in her bedding and Walter was on last watch. He used this time to think, rubbing his eyes, as the sun had yet to break the horizon, but gentle light flooded the clouds in anticipation.

No, magic itself isn’t weak. Undead walk. [Scan] works. Wizards roam around, though I didn’t see any cast a spell yet. Which isn’t unusual. They didn’t have time to channel mana which normally requires the wizard to be still and concentrate. During a chase that’s impossible. It’s one of the ways the combat between wizards and warriors was balanced. The wizards in this world just don’t know what they’re doing.

He recalled a tournament he watched between two master wizards. The channeling phase alone was like a game of chicken. One wizard would summon up quite a bit of mana, as if to cast a large spell, then fire off a quick spell to upset his opponent’s timing. The other wizard then channeled, only to cancel the channel and reposition to attack from another angle when defensive magic went up. It was an example of a high-level head-game. Although both wizards wasted mana this way in the end their opponent lost more.

He saw no indication anyone handled magic like this.

If they don’t know how to properly channel then they probably don’t know about aspects. Elin didn’t seem to know either. These are crucial building blocks to making magic spells and warrior skills. You collect them in the game and configure them to make the effect you want. There were plenty of “fixed” ones the developers provided, sure, but almost everyone eventually learned how to make custom ones.

So how did they do it in this world? Are aspects a thing and they collected them unknowingly? When they levelled up did they just train mindlessly hoping to accidentally unlock a new skill? That would explain what Elin said about not knowing any yet. If this world imported magic maybe it wouldn’t work exactly? I really want to experiment on it. If I can be a real wizard I won’t pass that up.

Wait. My status box. It said, “[Eyes of the Archwizard].” I have never heard of that skill before. Is it from a different game? If that’s the case maybe I’m in a world that imports game mechanics instead of being in a game? Come to think of it I’ve never heard of the town of Letun.

A gentle night wind blew across the camp and the fire flared. Goosebumps broke out across his skin. He remembered in a survival situation if things got cold you could share body heat with someone to survive. Glancing at Elin--

Clink.

“I’m trying to sleep,” she admonished him sleepily, pulling the blankets tighter around her.

I really hate she can figure out when I’m thinking about her. Granted, she’s at the disadvantage but it’s freaking humiliating she always knows.

He stared at the scales hatefully. By circumstance he was also staring at Elin’s back.

Wait.

What’s this?

He could see Elin superimposed on the scales. In fact, he could see her outline as well, glowing a faint dull red through the bedding. Where her heart would be was a pale blue star, with wisps coming off it like gentle arcs from a tiny sun. These wisps lazily filled her body, from head to toe.

The same mental visualization he could use to check the scales was also providing him with this new vision of Elin.

Even under a blanket Walter could clearly see where she was and how she was lying, even if he couldn’t see her directly.

He looked at his own hand. There was a faint outline, red, but no wisps.

The red must be HP and the blue MP. I can actually see life and mana. I can actually see magic!

When he squinted he saw something else. Scrambling towards Elin he suddenly pulled her blanket aside, grabbed her wrist, and pulled it closer to see her sword-hand better.

“What?!” Elin squeaked, “Huh?!”

She stared at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

He could see structures. Almostly like a flowchart of symbols floating in her body. It nearly looked like the interface he used in Sorcery Chronicle to make spells.

Are those aspects?! Can I see aspects too? Is this her? Her talents?

“W-walter what are you doing?! We can’t! We really can’t!” She was stammering so badly she could barely finish the sentence. “Are you g-going to let go?” She tried to tug her hand away but it felt like she had less strength than a mouse. “W-walter?! Are you listening?”

He noticed her hands were chilly, “Ah, sorry. I just got excited when--”

And then her face turned deadly serious.

“Get down!”

She rolled on top of him, and pinned him to the ground straddling him.

A stone whizzed by, ripping through the air with a sound like the fizz of an open soda bottle, crashed into their campfire scattering embers and streaks of glowing ash into the air, bounced, and continued skipping madly into the overgrown grass.

Walter realized in horror that, if Elin did not pull him down, the rock would have surely struck him in the head. Lethally.

Several more rocks ripped by. Some sailed over head. Others skipped on the ground next to them throwing up tufts of grass and dirt.

“What’s going on?”

“Goblin ambush.”