Snowflake threw himself into his training the next day and the day after with a fevered intensity that bordered on unhealthy. He half expected Honey to say something about his newfound vigor. He even prepared an excuse. But she didn’t. She crinkled her brow, nodded, and then ramped up her intensity to match his. All without a word.

She was, however, quick to reprimand him for his mistakes.

He jerked away from a punch he almost hadn’t noticed until it was too late. It was by no means a graceful motion but it got the job done. With a grunt, he settled his footing and forced the Source inside himself to flow down his arm and into his shield, converting into chemical energy along the way. That transformation was one he was getting the feel for, much more than kinetic not to mention electric or thermal. Long hours spent healing was making it almost second nature.

Using energy to alter objects was quite a bit trickier than using it to enhance his body’s natural functions, but the concept was the same. Use chemical energy to reinforce the chemical bonds between the molecules and force it to be strong. Strong enough to block a blow from Honey.

The wooden shield creaked under the pressure of Honey’s follow up attack, but it held. Most of the force slid off, thanks to Snowflake’s increased understanding of deflection and angles. Thankfully, he managed to save his shield from his club’s fate. The shattered piece of wood that was once his weapon were long gone.

Even without his weapon, he was far from helpless. He put his shoulder into his shield and pushed against her, knocking her back a step. His fighting style had gained an air of ferocity it lacked before. He was far from the warriors of his past life who danced through battlefields, laying waste to enemy armies with nothing but a sharp sword and quick wit.

No. He was improving, but not like that. His movements were more akin to the desperate fighting of the frontline rabble, doing everything in their power to stay alive by killing whatever was in front of them.

The shield bash had given him a little bit of breathing room, but he knew it wasn’t enough. She had more reach with her weapons still intact. So, he drove forward, churning his feet under him for all he was worth. She managed to sidestep his charge, but he clipped her.

Snowflake stumbled a few steps, but turned fast enough to intercept an overhead strike. This time, he wasn’t able to properly reinforce himself or the shield. Something cracked. Maybe the shield. Possibly a bone. Most likely both.

There was pain, of course. And with pain came the natural response of fear. Most people, Snowflake included, felt fear when introduced to pain. Fear of more pain. Fear of failure. Death. You name it. However, deep inside Snowflake, beyond even fear, something stirred. It was an unfamiliar emotion. A bitter, hard thing that refused to budge. Snowflake didn’t have a name for it, but he suspected it would not be sacrificed to the flame as easily as his other emotions.

Before Robert, he might’ve backed off to get some breathing room and consider his options. However, the bitter, hard thing refused. It urged him to press forward, to sacrifice a limb to cripple his opponent long enough to finish the fight. Without a second thought, he did its bidding.

He swiveled his lead foot, raising his opposite knee. This built momentum and elastic tension through his kinetic chain. Using elastic energy directly was still beyond him. With a twist, he brought his shank hurtling through the air toward Honey’s upper thigh. He flooded the extremity with Source, prepared to transform it to kinetic energy at the point of contact.

When it landed, he did just that. The feedback broke his shin in two. The flash of pain would have disabled him a few days ago. Now, he was prepared for it. Instead of planting the broken leg, he pushed it behind him, thrusting the edge of his shield forward in the same motion.

Honey’s club caught him in the side of the head, mid-motion. He went spinning to the ground. She stood over him, a scowl on her face. Too quick to see, she lashed out and rapped him on the forehead with her club.

“Either strengthen your body better, project the energy out further, or learn to heal much faster,” she said. Her tone made it clear what she thought of his sacrificing the structural integrity of his leg to land a blast of kinetic energy on a perceived opening. “Now is as good a time as any to learn to do more complicated healing. I will send Mordai along in a bit to remove any tumors or re-break any poorly fused bone.”

With that, she walked away. She didn’t have so much as a hitch her step, despite Snowflake landing a rare solid blow. All alone, Snowflake was left with his thoughts and injuries. They were similar in a way, his thoughts and injuries. There was a certain symmetry to the pain, inflicted on himself through his failures.

He pushed those thoughts away as soon as he felt them take hold, feeding them to the flame. Wallowing wouldn’t help him. He cycled chemical energy through his body, even as he used his hands to feel for breaks. Where it was tender he pushed his fingers down to feel for lumps or anything else that might indicate a break. He was as ruthless to himself as he had to be. Part of him felt he deserved the pain.

He found two broken bones in his shank, but his arm was whole. Tender, but whole. The crack he heard earlier must’ve been a fracture instead of a full break. As he manually set the bones and started the slow process of healing them, his mind began to wander.

Snowflake marveled at how much Source he was able to use today as opposed to yesterday. This world truly revolved around conflict fueled growth. Another point in favor of the practicality of a Monster Core, instead of the romance of a Magic one.

If he was close to developing his Core yesterday, he must be just on the cusp now. Source responded to his call with comparative ease. More and more of it stayed dormant in his body when not in use, cutting down on how much he had to gather when he needed it. The energy transformations were still tricky though, and he knew from glances at Bonehammer and Ra’hel’s training, that he was still quite far behind.

Yesterday, the day after his fight with Robert, he noticed Ra’hel freezing and unfreezing buckets of water while Bonehammer manipulated a piece of metal. He knew from Angosin’s demonstration, more than a week ago now, that electric energy could be used to manipulate metal, and he figured that thermal energy would melt ice easy enough, but for the life of him he could not figure out how Ra’hel was freezing the water. Asking his instructors was an option, but in the end he decided to puzzle it out for himself.

One of the valuable lessons Robert had taught him was that there wouldn’t always be someone there to hold his hand.

Thoughts of Robert led his mind down an increasingly familiar path. Snowflake’s mind flowed from what it would take to grow strong enough to never feel that helpless again, to how he would do that, and finally settling on long versus short term gains. After all, Robert wasn’t the only person he needed to punch in the face. A certain nameless celestial had taken someone valuable from him, and even he could reclaim her without confronting him, he felt that he should go out of his way to make his feelings on the matter known. Violently.

A week ago, he might not have felt this way. But a week is a long time and he had spent more than a few nights awake, thinking. Especially the last few nights. Some part of him had whispered that to find his path forward, he needed to examine his past. He dissected his memories over and over again, puzzling through the events that led to him to this place.

The mysterious wind that had guided his every step, always pushing him forward. An ethereal goddess that spoke with words like nature’s fury incarnate. The celestial’s refusal to let her into this world, and how they had to bargain for his Unique Skill since [Beloved by Magic] was unacceptable. She called him her beloved. His lack of magical talent in this world… The clues were so obvious that he had nearly screamed in frustration when he figured it out.

The realization came with a lot of complicated feelings, but one thing was clear. He had to grow powerful enough to reclaim his old world. Dreams of magical beast husbandry would have to be put on hold until then. However, it narrowed down his options for a Class. Sort of.

A variation of a [Body Enhancer] type Class was appealing. With Skills augmented by [Adaptability], becoming a bastion of raw physical prowess was almost guaranteed. If his assumptions were correct, Classes like that revolved around kinetic and chemical energy, the two transformations he was most familiar with. Besides, his training so far was catered toward that sort of Class. Breaking his body down and rebuilding it stronger was almost addictive. His gains so far were massive and he could feel them in every motion, even ones as simple as standing up.

But, if he could do that without the Class, then why did he need it? Honey said it was possible to reverse-engineer Skills if you could figure out how they worked, so hypothetically he could gain the Skills of a [Body Enhancer] without committing to the Class. Its short-term potential was amazing, but in the long run he couldn’t see himself sticking with it. Probably.

There was a certain appeal to flattening mountains and punching gods with his bare fists, but who wouldn’t be attracted to that.

Angosin made a strong case for a [Summoner] or [Beast Tamer] Class, but… Well, Snowflake could admit that it interested to him in a way that only [Mage] had appealed to him before. He felt pulled toward the choice, but it came with its own drawbacks. Namely, being responsible for others. Not only would he have to feed, house, and manage his creatures, but then he would have to send them to their deaths. To fight and to die in his name.

He sighed, pulling his mind from the uncertain future back to the painful present. The broken bones still ached, but they felt whole enough. Probably stronger than ever. Destruction and growth, a cycle as endless as his obsessive thoughts over which Class he would take. His choices weren’t as narrowed down as he’d like to pretend. Part of him wanted to just take every Class that sounded vaguely appealing, forsaking Angosin’s advice, and just hope they consolidated into something appealing someday. He could be the first ever [Magic Beast Enhancer] or [Mage Summoning Tamer].

The audacity of the second one caused him to chuckle. In that scenario he would summon and tame [Mages]? Just him with a whip, probably shirtless for whatever reason, driving forward an army of slobbering magic experts to fight a very confused looking celestial.

“Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” Mordai plopped down next to Snowflake, gracing the smaller man with a bemused smile.

“Oh you know, just thinking about Classes and stuff. I thought of a pretty ridiculous consolidation.” Snowflake proceeded to explain his vision of a Class based around summoning [Mages], feeling at ease with Mordai and his relaxed manner.

“I bet the first step to unlocking the Class is to tame a [Mage].” Mordai leaned in close and continued in a mock-whisper. “I’ve got the perfect starter [Mage] for you. Its this mild-mannered [Kinetic Battlemage]. Timid as a mouse, I swear. You won’t find a-“

Snowflake took a playful swipe at his instructor. “You’re trying to get me killed!”

“Maybe.” Mordai winked at him. “It’s good to see you crack a smile. I’ve been worried about you the last few days, ya know?”

“Yeah, I- I just have a lot on my mind.”

“I figured. Look, I talked to Honey about what she said to you, and yesterday I had a chat with Angosin.”

“Oh?”

“Yup, and since everybody else is going out of their way to pass along a few words of wisdom, I figured it was my turn.” Mordai tugged at one of his horns and gave a smile that fell just short of reaching his eyes. “I know it feels like you’re choosing the direction you gotta take the rest of your life. The perfect Core that will mesh well with your perfect Class and all that. Its bullshit. In my opinion at least.”

“I’m not sure that I follow.”

“Think of it like this. Whatever Core you get, it will grant you Aspects based on the life you live and what you need. So, if all Cores do that, all you’re really doing is choosing the flavor, right? A ham sammich is still a sammich, just as much as a turkey one, ya know?”

“I mean, I guess I see what you’re saying, but what about Classes. The Class you choose is like a declaration of how you want to live your life. You pick a path and follow it to the top. Choosing multiple or switching will just slow you down and ruin your potential.”

Mordai nodded along, every inch the active listener.

“Yeah, no,” Mordai said, dismissing Snowflake’s reasoning without consideration. “I know some people think you have to pick a Class and stick with it, but why? Sure, there is no way to remove a Class you get, but so what?”

He turned to Snowflake as if expecting an answer. When none came, he continued.

“We’re real people, not caricatures of what someone thinks a [Paladin] or whatnot should be. People are multifaceted. We make poor decisions, we try new things, and those things become part of us, even if they don’t work out. Classes are just a reflection of who we are, were, or want to be, ya know? Don’t be so afraid to mess up.”

They sat in silence as Snowflake digested what Mordai had to say. The different advice and opinions he’d received were all jumbled in his mind, but he did his best to make sense of it. After a while, he spoke his conclusion.

“It’s just so hard,” Snowflake said with a heavy sigh. He leaned all the way back to look at the passing clouds, something that was becoming somewhat of a habit. “My future is on the line and I feel all this pressure to make the right choice and stick with it.”

Mordai laid next to him. For a while, he didn’t speak. They let the moment wash over them, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Well, I’ve got a message for you that might ease the pressure a bit,” Mordai broke the silence. “Angosin says he’ll be outta town for a while around the time of your assessment, but he’s pulled some strings to make sure the judge won’t be too harsh.”

“Oh, the assessment… Right.”

“You forget?”

“I one hundred percent forgot.”

“Well, uh… Honey sent me over to break some of your bones anyway. I’m sure that’ll help you take your mind off things.”

Snowflake shot the lounging [Paladin] a critical side-eye.

“I thought your type was all about honor and justice. That’s not very [Paladin]-esque of you.”

“Imma multifaceted person.”

***

That night, as Snowflake drifted off to sleep, he found himself in his Soulspace. [Adaptability] burned in the darkness, a flickering star of untapped potential. In the darkness, vast nebulas moved in twisting motions, whirling toward a circle of dim lights. The distant nebulas felt so familiar… They were something he’d felt before. Held in the palm of his hand time and time again.

Source. Huge, swirling clouds of interstellar Source.

He moved towards the lights, centered at the great whirl of Source. Once there, he found them to be orbs of ghostly flame. They were different in many ways, but in many more, they were the same. Deep down, he knew he had to pick one for his own and the rest would fade.

The first one he examined smelt of smoke and steel. Its ghostly flame was electric in nature. He leaned close and it whispered promises of a body beyond mortal needs and a mind with the precision of a machine. It wasn’t for him.

The next was ethereal, promising the immortality of an undying soul. He did not examine it further.

He was drawn to one made of scale and fur. It roared at him, shaking his very bones. In it, he saw might and cunning. It was a thing of instinct and balance. Prey sharpens predator as predator sharpens prey. An evolutionary arms race. He moved in closer, intrigued.

A brilliant flash of the arcane drew him away. Secrets and puzzles beyond his ken danced before him, a lifetime pursuit of knowledge. And with knowledge, power. He wanted it. He need it. But even as he reached for it, he found himself reaching past it, to another.

It was a familiar thing. The thing that flared in his chest when his back was against the wall and his life was on the line. It was the hard, bitter taste of defeat at the hands of Robert and the dark flame that burned in his mind. Wreathed in battle, it called for him, promising blood and triumph in the face of defeat.

He reached for it, pulling it into himself. The great nebulas of Source began to spin, faster and faster. Like a great whirlpool, they surrounded him, closing in. They frothed against each other, battling like great waves whipped into a frenzy an unseen wind. The nebulas ripped into each other, fighting to be the first to consume him, but when they reached for him, the thing in his chest reached out with overwhelming force.

The dark, bitter thing devoured them to give him strength.

Despite the violence, there was only silence.

Words flashed in his mind- No. In his soul.

[Monster Core- obtained]