Zahn woke again on the couches, taking a long moment to realize he hadn’t died and been sent for respawn again. Sitting up and rubbing at his dry mouth, he looked around to find Ethan stirring away at whatever he was brewing up for supper and humming to himself. Standing and stretching, he drew the Warlock’s attention as the man turned glowing green eyes onto him.

“Look at you, all tuckered out. It’s not even three,” he quipped as he stirred the pot. “While you were out, I spent some quality time with my new Ability. This thing eats up mana, ten per second at normal use. Do you even notice?” Zahn yawned as he shook his head, prompting the ‘lock to fling a spoonful of soup broth at him. “Fuck you. Have a nice nap?”

Taking his acerbic tone as seriously as the situation allowed, Zahn didn’t give a damn about the ‘lock’s temper. “Fine, but turning off that level of Psychic magic really takes it outta you. How long did it take to charge up? Felt like forever.”

“Something between five and ten seconds,” Ethan answered as he dropped a fistful of herbs into the pot. “Speaking of, I have a working theory behind your magic tricks even if you’re an idiot. I think I know why you have the different colors of mana in your body at such a low level.”

“Is magic element imbuement normal for higher levels or something?” The idea that someone else understood his own body better than he did set Zahn off-balance but he wasn’t about to reject advice from the stronger ranks.

The blonde Warlock nodded as he dropped in a bowl of diced meat chunks, “Usually, yeah. Advanced classes physically modify the body to create consistent repeatable results every time. Rangers and Hunters, archery-type fighters get abnormally strong back and arm muscles while their eyes and perception senses get way upgraded. I once partied with a Hunter who specialized in Beast Taming, the fucker had literal owl vision. They’re not even eyeballs anymore, they go straight back into the head and he needed to turn to look at everything. Good fighter though,” stirring the ingredients together as he talked, the Gladiator scooped out a layer of grease from the top and splashed it into the coals leaving a hissing crackle behind.

The lowbie sat up on his couch, stretching and trying to track how the conversation was supposed to help him. “So, you said something about a theory?”

Ethan nodded again, absorbed in his cooking. “Right. So, when you passed out both mana pockets shrunk to almost nothing. Your stupid fucking wretched Core calmed down, and you stopped lighting up the room like a fucking vegas strip. Anyways,” he turned to face the lowbie again pointing with his utensil, “when you mind turned off most of the purple cloud you have stuffed in it chilled out too, and the throat fire mana disappeared completely. I mean gone, and when you started waking up the first thing that happened was your brain filled with Psychic then your throat with Fire. I can almost use the brightness to tell how awake you are, ya goddamn mana pumped-”

“Enough,” Zahn waved away whatever insult was coming next. “I get it, you’re hella mad about my magic being so strong. Shut it. I rigged my character like this on purpose when I realized I couldn’t log out from the character creation menu.”

“About that,” Ethan countered. “Tell me the details again? I don’t remember your reasoning behind giving yourself Gods-level Willpower.”

He shrugged, sniffing at the food boiling away. “I was breaking into the game using some feckless moron’s unclaimed Beta Key. Brute-forced his password, jumped into the first virtual room and started trying to find a weakness. When I did get in, the walls lit up with text and I got a good look at some of the math behind the strength of the various values. A solid paragraph of checks and balances were all focused around Willpower, spelling out how it amps up spells and makes solid defenses. When I couldn’t leave, I used the Custom class to crank out Will and dump the other stats.”

“I still never heard of Custom before you.” The Warlock stirred his creation a final time before dropping a heavy iron lid on the pot. “If I hadn’t read it off your status sheet I wouldn’t believe you even had it.” Zahn snorted at the train of thought, standing to follow the other Player towards the door. “And even after that, my first thought would be that it’s some advanced class, but that’d mean your lowest level would be five to make up reaching fifth rank, and you’re literally level one right now.” Shaking his head, the Gladiator turned back to the Custom and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Keep that one quiet, yeah?”

Cocking his head at the instruction, Zahn patted the offered arm. “Sure thing, not like I’m going around advertising my stat sheet to everyone. What do we do now? We could try tapping into Chaos, follow some of the things my book says?”

Ethan wobbled his head, humming at the options. “I’m not completely convinced your book has all the answers about Chaos, I mean I’m a damned conduit for the things and even I don’t know everything. Also, the match ended and our favorite Shaman wants a word with you out on the sands.”

Zahn blinked again, processing the words. “Ex-the-fuck-scuse me? Why would he want to kill me again, I’m already back at fucking one-half!” He’d been avoiding looking at his depressingly low stat sheet since the melee, intent on not sending himself into depression. “He can’t want revenge, everything I did to the guy was out during the melee! Completely legit!”

The blonde smirked at his companion’s stress, “Yeah, ‘cept for a certain tripping trick. No, he’s probably not going to kill you out of spite. I got a chance to chat with him during your nap, he stayed out of the end of the battle regardless. Come on, he’s waiting.”

Before the lowbie could muster another protest, Ethan pushed the doors open and let in the afternoon light. The formerly flat arena sands sat destroyed, blood spilled over nearly every foot of ground with pits and divots scattered around and short walls everywhere. The stone rings sunk into the dirt remained intact, but the walls breaking up the battlefield remained at their created positions between the barrier stones and in many cases created walled in pens across the field. Staring across the destruction, both Players observed a moment of silence before their musing was interrupted.

“About time you girly boys came outta there. I’d started to think you were afraid of your old friend the Brouhaman.” The old man in question leaned calmly against the wall next to their doors, gripping his walking stick as he examined the pair. “Why are both of your eyes glowing now? No, forget that. I have a more important ask, little Earth mage. How did you do this?”

Looking over the elder caster without a hint, Zahn’s gaze scanned the sands again to try and find the context before he saw a flicker of light dancing at his feet. Looking down he found the little blob of dirt and waste he’d swept out of the animal pens, struggling to break free from under the Shaman’s staff tip. Each time the wad would reform itself around the obstruction, the old man’s mana shifted the ground beneath it to tuck the thing back under its anchor.

Observing the Player, Brouhaman continued. “I can’t kill it, there’s no Core in the little Monster, and I cannot even bring up the creature’s statistics. Without a health or stamina pool the thing can’t get exhausted, and it seems intent on moving without consideration for its location. I didn’t teach you this, explain.”

Watching the struggle brought a smile to the Custom’s face, and observing the amount of mana it had left looked like the hours it’d spent moving had hardly taken a sip out of its mana stores. “Well, you sorta did actually.” Crouching down, the lowbie gently placed a palm on the construct and its movement froze, holding position under its master’s touch. Sending more mana into the cloud, he watched the blue coloration warp to green as if the conversion was contagious before letting it go and watching the mass try to move itself again.

He stood and brushed at his hands, looking back to the old caster. “And I have something to ask you, besides the fact. I never got my own spell, the wall-opening one. I’d rather not draw out the massive and overly complicated pattern each time, so help me get that and I’ll tell you everything I know about this little guy.”

Brouhaman scowled under his bushy eyebrows back at the low-level, “And why would I allow you to gain such knowledge? Such tasks were not in our previously agreed-upon transaction, devilish Player!” The blob continued its efforts to escape from underfoot, nearly dragging the green-lit staff away. “Do not think you can draw such secrets from me now.”

Zahn blinked back at him, unphased by the sudden shift to ritualistic speech. “Right, and the stuff you’re asking now has nothing to do with our ‘previously agreed-upon transaction’ either. In point of fact, I’m trying to get a copy of whatever I taught you and you want to know how I used what you taught me. That seems more than fair, from my end.”

Ethan chuckled from aside the arguing pair, “Yeah ‘cause you have no concept how hard it is for high-levels to find something new. He’s probably been slinging the same dozen spells for decades and you just walk in with a new trick.”

The Custom flipped his companion a middle finger without turning, “Exactly, that just cements my point. I already taught you this epic, amazing new trick. I just want to have my own knowledge as something workable, is that so hard old man?”

Brouhaman’s glare didn’t relent, passing between the two like an angry hawk. “There is no honor in haggling away an old man’s last vestige. Do not seek to rob me of what little I have left.”

Zahn shook his head, “Naw, not likely. Besides the points of, ‘I taught it to you to begin with’ we’re still ending with ‘now you know how I made that’ which is giving you more tricks and tips. No matter what, you’re still coming out ahead knowledge-wise. And besides,” he gestured towards the destroyed field around them, “looks like you’re plenty ahead as-is. I heard you got to withdraw from the fight?”

The Shaman sighed slowly as he stared down the question, breathing several long seconds before answering. “Yes, I was able to control my opponents before I retired. I would rather take a loss at my age than live through that dreadful resurrection process again.” He fell silent as he looked over the evidence of his prowess, taking long enough that Zahn opened his mouth to try again before Ethan’s hand on his arm stopped him.

Finally looking back at the duo, the old man continued. “Your request is not without merit. Despite your meager abilities, I believe you may be able to perform the task you request and I do not think you are foolish enough to cheat me now.” His glare didn’t soften against the lowbie’s nervous grin, but he went on. “The spell you assisted in unlocking is simple, and can be cast without the inscription. I believe you must carve the shape before casting it initially, as even by studying your Grimoire’s page I could not obtain the spell without activation.”

Zahn nodded, waiting for him to get to the point when the words themselves trickled in. “Hey, what do you mean ‘studying’ my book? I barely showed it to you.”

Brouhaman smirked, his body jerking minutely before he broke and chuckled out loud, sounding like a wheezing dog calling at the delivery boy. “Hah, and you know so much of magic do you not? Come, and bring your… thing.” Lifting his staff and releasing the blob, the old Shaman shuffled his way along the wall towards the sealed doorway leading to the altar room.

Zahn bent again and fed more mana to the dirt mass, activating his spell once again. “Shift,” whispering the command word he watched as the green energy flickered and the circle he made before briefly came to life before the pile wobbled its way after the elder.

“How neat,” Ethan’s voice sounded as interested as the Shaman. “That little thing really does obey you. Weird.”

“It’s not really obeying, to be fair.” Zahn followed the wandering pile, keeping pace as he fell behind the old man. “I just fed it more mana and changed its direction, that’s all.”

The other Player caught up and passed him, nudging the Custom to walk faster. “Right, but being that it’s your mana I can’t interact with it like that. Probably why our resident Shaman thought it was alive. You gonna keep feeding it?”

They neared the northern wall as he considered it. “I may as well, chasing this thing around is what kept me alive before. I still gotta ask what the hell happened with that.”

Ethan’s voice dropped to a whisper, still reaching his ears from a few feet ahead. “Shut it, there’s no ‘hell’ here. Say Chaos instead or they’ll out you.”

“They already know I’m a Player dumbass,” Zahn hissed back. He wanted to follow-up but Brouhaman turned to find neither fighter following closely and pounded his walking stick impatiently. “Coming!”

Catching up, he tapped the wall blocking off Zahn’s private torture chamber with the stick. “Use this. I want you to Shape the spell into the wall, and activate it.”

The lowbie rolled his shoulders, summoning his Grimoire with a wave and opening to the right page. He reached out to the wall when the staff came slamming down on his extended fingers.

“Not like that.” Cursing and rubbing his hand, the Custom glared up at the old caster. “I want you to Shape each circle into the wall as its own spell, then again for each rune you see, and again as a single shape linking them all together. When you’ve finished, I want to see a carving that can be traced by a single line.”

“That’s not what I saw in the wall,” came Zahn’s weak objection. The old Shaman snorted and didn’t answer, stabbing at the wall with his weapon again. Heaving a dramatic sigh, the lowbie turned back to the task and flipped his pages to land on the patterns. The spell looked simple enough at a glance, and his unknown time spent carving by soot and fingernail gave him confidence he could crack out the spell’s shape within a few tries. With his Mana Sight turned up to about half power he could easily see the already existing Earth-type mana sitting in the smooth obstruction, with all evidence of his previous great escape already removed. Slapping his palm against the stone, the lowbie focused on sending his mana into the rock and causing a change.

Sitting and thinking didn’t pretend to be the most active of tasks, and the longer he spent trying to push something into a full container the more frustrated it became. His efforts at filling the wall with mana were being completely blocked by the amount of energy already filling the construct, the green swirling colors rebuking his own blue mana out of hand. Trying to send the magic into the rock at different spots didn’t cause a change, and after the fifth time changing positions he heard Ethan walk away.

“Focus,” the old man’s voice wasn’t helpful though his company was welcome. The struggle against the eternal stone wall was already bringing back flashes of desperate memory from the other side of it, and having another body nearby was almost comforting in the reminder he was past it.

Taking another breath, the Custom tried to agitate his mana center to get more moving at a time. Leaning against both hands, he pressed them against the unyielding stone and closed his eyes, trying to draw out the apparently mighty power he’d tucked away inside. Feeling the warmth in his chest and remembering the Warlock’s constant bitching, he tried to copy the observation. Huffing a deep breath he held it, pushing against the pressure in his chest and nearly breaking wind before he felt the heat ripple and begin to move. With energy spreading around in his ribcage he sent a path straight up to his mind, feeling goosebumps as the ripple traveled upwards and slammed into his skull, rebounding around like a wave.

Gasping and reeling at the internal gravity shift, Zahn’s eyes flew open and he knew. The old man standing three feet to his left was hungry, ignoring his stomach for the promise of new knowledge being so carelessly dangeled before him. The brooding Warlock was more than a hundred feet back, his mind traveling the memories he’d shared with a certain imp years ago while his body performed the motions of comforting routine. A number of fighters whose minds he didn’t know stood around the rings, their emotions and ideas flickering into life and being snuffed out again by their neighbors in rapid succession. The laughter and cheer of a joke being chased by the mischief and pain of a prank followed by a group agreement and more laughter, joy sparked from another’s suffering. An argument breaking out in the distance, pride battling against confidence as a man who never fought in that corner declared a kill of his own to a man who never watched the other duel.

The myriad of minds and ideas swirling around didn’t take Zahn away from the project under hand, but his attention was drawn to a single approaching mind against his will regardless. A bright, happy, downright chipper train of thought skipped its way across the bloodied and torn sands towards them, spiking in energy and enthusiasm as it recognized the lowbie. Turning his mind away from the approaching difficulties, the lowbie focused on himself again and tried to direct the now-Psychic mana down, to mix it with his untuned energy and direct the mass easier. Pushing down against his skull with pressure building under his neck, the Player felt his body strain as the magical energies battled with it before venting down a release.

Zahn’s arms burned, pain screaming its way down his left arm while the same internal punishment crept its path down the right, pulsing with his heartbeat and moving scant centimeters with each beat. His eyes staring wide at the wall, he clearly saw the mana spill out his left hand and begin to color the stone, replacing the green film that previously filled it as his mana claimed its territory. His right arm still wasn’t behaving, with his headache growing and mana sluggishly flowing in equal measure. Remembering the Shaman’s instructions, the lowbie bent his thoughts back to the Grimoire floating inches away and stared bright eyes at the pages. “Shape,” intoning the spell like a prayer, he felt some of the growing heat leak out his body and affect the energy he’d already sunk into the rock. A perfect circle with sharp edges, no bigger across than his hand etched itself into the stone wall in a matter of seconds, sinking into the rock as deep as its line was wide.

“There you are!” The cheerful bark sounded from somewhere behind him, but Zahn was intent on not giving the brute any satisfaction.

“What do you want, five?” Apparently the old Shaman had the same idea, dismissing the powerful Gladiator with his gruff voice. Zahn tried to refocus on the wall, straining as he pushed mana down his arms and tried to rework the wall.

“I don’t mean to intrude on your valuable time, good master Brouhaman. I’m just here to fetch some trash, I’ll be out of your way in moments.”

The mana lurching its way down his right arm finally reached his wrist, sending more pain arcing up the limb as the energy seemed intent on catching on each small bone in place. Gritting his teeth against the pain, the lowbie tried to picture the next circle in its proper place. “Shape.”

“If you wanted to collect trash, you’d start with those Gods-awful minions of yours. Did any of them survive ten minutes? You should be ashamed, you’ve had those boys for nearly a month without any of them rising up a full Rank. And you call yourself the Fifth Position Gladiator, humph!” He swung his staff behind him, “Stop listening! You have a task!”

Zahn flinched against the swinging stick, catching the wood on his back. “I am working,” he growled to himself as he directed his mana around. The energy he’d infused into the wall was still localized, the time he’d spent dumping mana into the rock forming a puddle in the stone of energy but the shapes he needed to carve remained stretching away to either side. As he examined the scope of the problem he’d started, mana finally left his right hand to join the rock and another surprise found him.

“They train hard! Besides, you don’t even have a position,” The ongoing chatter in the background was getting even more distracting, leaving the lowbie’s growing headache echoing in his ears with his heartbeat.

The mana dumped out his right arm sunk into the wall splotchy, its consistent blue glows muted and interrupted by pockets of indigo and grape swirling around like pond scum caught in a current. With a small huff he pressed his fingers to the strange colors, thinking of the shapes he still needed to carve. And now I gotta deal with this, how am I supposed to Shape- With the thought incomplete, he felt the stone move under his hand and heard a crack of shifting rocks. Moving his hand he saw a pocket of blue-purple gone, with the first rune he needed to detail taking its place. Just by thinking of what he needed to do with it, his intent was reflected back at him. Intent. Looking at the wall again, he stepped back to get a better angle.

I can send Psychic mana into something I make to shape the spell better, Hell I can just send what I want with the spell when I cast it. He looked around to see the Shaman and fighter still bickering a few feet away, their voices fuzzy and muted. Fuckit, I’ll take the silence. Approaching the wall again, Zahn pressed his left palm to the smooth surface and sent the milder path of pain into motion. Gritting his teeth against the burn, the lowbie watched the green natural mana being chased away by his blue invasion before murmuring another Shape and forming a perfect circle. Activating the circle with more mana, he triggered Shift to crawl the design over to the carved rune and enveloped the sigil. Inspecting his work he realized running the curve across smooth lines warped them, and he compared the shape against his book before confirming it had changed. Another Shape applied to the same area smoothed out the edges and restored his confidence in his plan.

Tracing the circle again with his finger, the Custom cast Shift once more to move both circle and its contained rune to the proper position, out of the mana puddle and towards the end of the line of circles. He grinned to himself at the minor victory, happy he’d found a workaround for the monotonous task of pushing power into each section of the wall.

Whatever the two higher levels were arguing about, their debate had drawn a small crowd including Ethan and the other milling around fighters. Arms were waving as more than one face filled with red and the onlookers seemed to be egging the confrontation on. Turning his back to the show, Zahn huffed another sigh as he compared the three circles he’d carved to the ten remaining. Got this, it’s easier than last time. Right?

Casting his two Earth spells over and over again left six perfect circles sitting in a row with a seventh on the end bearing a squared wiggly design. Staring at the remaining filled circles to make, the lowbie faced another issue he hadn’t expected. The pain of sending Psychic mana down his arm was excruciating, bad enough he could almost ignore the burning in his left arm completely. He hadn’t faced the same issue sending mana around before, and tried to think of what he could have done this time that caused such a problem. Without anything jumping up at him, the Custom started to feel like his current carving task was going to prove impossible.

Making the perfect circles were downright simple, and the first rune being carved so quickly had given him a false hope about the difficulty. He’d tried casting Shape while focusing on the next rune in line, and had gotten back a crude mimicry of the design. Casting the spell on the same area repeatedly refined the image, taking off scant layers of dust with each pass and scratching the surface as if he’d missed with poor tools. Growling at the problem, the Custom leaned back to try and keep his temper at a simmer through his pounding head.

As the lowbie puzzled his project, he missed the ongoing clash in the rings. The powerful Shaman waved his hands, lifting his glowing staff as the ground rippled in reply. Burnato charged him from across the center ring, bringing roars of approval as he braved the unsteady sands in his attack. Bringing his weapon down sharply, the caster finished his summon and brought up a waist-high wall of cobblestone that tracked across the dividing ground breaking up the dirt like a wave on the prow of a ship. The fighter sucked in a breath and jumped, tucking his legs in as he rolled over the obstacle in mid-air and tried to land mid-run. His tactic almost worked, bringing his massive body above the wall before the Shaman stabbed the ground with his staff once more and launched the wall’s stones upwards to catch the thug midair.

He fell back hard, rolling to the side as he dodged a quick series of stabs into the ground that grew into thin spikes launching themselves up from beneath. He rolled again and rose, jumping to his feet and charging the old man in a wide arc. The green mage mumbled to himself as he dragged his free hand up the magical stick, activating a number of runes and twisting the wood into the ground. Burnato reached his target and swung, his thick curved blade slamming into a barrier of dirt and roots that grew up from the ground and anchored to the caster’s robes as armor. He pulled the weapon free with a growl, spinning to bring it around and attack the other man’s front only to find the heavily enchanted magical staff blocking his strike as soundly as a metal shaft.

The chain of attacks ended there, with Brouhaman’s spell completed he released the staff in question and barked the command word, “Rise!” Obeying the order, dirt, sand and pebbles began to lift in a wave the fighter tried to run from, his feet clearing a dozen steps before the tidal wave of earth surged over him and sent a cloud past his body to rock the hapless lowbie near the wall.

-18 Health. Shaman Brouhaman used Rise.

Zahn slammed his head into the wall he faced, feeling his concentration shatter with his nose and seeing blood liberally paint the surface he’d spent too long managing. He fell on his ass, reeling from the impact before the headache prodded his temper into action. What the fuck. Sitting up, he tried to shake his head clear and found the pain only spiking instead. “What the fuck?” Leaning on one elbow, the lowbie turned to face the suddenly-loud combat behind him trying to make sense of the attack. “What the FUCK?!”

Finally noticing his student’s distress, the old Shaman shouted back over his match. “You’re intact! Back to it, we have a deal! Finish before I do!” He turned his focus back to the battle, sending another wall of cobbles towards his opponent. Zahn stared at the fight for a few seconds, watching the Gladiator try to clear the wall and take a few rocks to the delicates for his efforts.

“Assholes.” Rising to his feet with a grumble, the Custom turned back to his now-bloody wall and tried to salvage the carving. Rubbing at his wounded skull he found his forehead now bore cuts similar to the edges of the shape he was failing to carve, and the blood he’d donated dripped down like an egg on a window. “Lovely.”

He wiped at the mess, trying to push his blood away from the sigil to Shape it properly when he noticed the mana wasn’t its normal blue anymore. Around the rune and following the bloodstain, a wad of purple wiggled its way through the currents he’d fed the wall so far. Touching the bloody mana and looking back at his book, Zahn tried for the easy answer. “Shape.”

As if he’d finally asked the right question, the rune jumped into order and carved itself at the perfect depth and adjusted its lines to match the book exactly. The Psychic-type mana was completely consumed, drying most of the blood and taking up a significant blot of the blue mana still swimming around. With a growing smile, the Custom touched his bleeding forehead and pulled some warmth away on his fingers, bringing his purple-empowered digits down to inspect. “I can drag around Psychic.”

Tapping the mana-filled fingers to the wall, he tried to carve a circle around the sigil. “Shape.” The rock obeyed, acting like a pup hearing commands trained years ago and leaping into action to drain most of the remaining blue mana and take on the circle he’d intended. If I just mix some Psychic into these spells, I can control them to do what I want instead of just the normal cast. Is that what Ethan was talking about, with ‘the mind thing’ from before? Looking over at him the Custom found he could track the other Player’s location by the feeling of his thoughts, as if the man had a colored shade he saw through or there was a faint music echoing behind his running mind. Looking for the Warlock he found a broad orange-grey tint as if seeing through the glass of a bottle, and could make out the faintest whiff of tobacco against a song being sung by a soft choir. Finding the caster cheering on the duel, the lowbie opted to bring it back up later.

Facing the half-carved wall, Zahn stared down his challenge. Shift, he sent the newly carved circled rune to its proper position between the next two empty circles and joined their edges to form a continuous line. Directing with thought is so fucking broken. He cast the next five circles in rapid succession, dumping mana into the wall through his left hand before tapping it with mana drawn from his forehead using the right. He estimated the amount of mana needed for each shape, once getting the pool size wrong and feeling the heat being forcibly drawn out his body when he cast the Shape spell.

When his instructor finally finished whatever their pissing match was about, the great Shaman Brouhaman returned to find Zahn using Shift to move the last carved circle into place. Just above eye level sat the elongated form of the wall opening spell he’d seen carved by the lowbie before, and now the same single level grinned at his creation as if seeing a willing woman.

“What’s that stupid smile for? You took too long.” The old man’s raspy voice didn’t bring the Custom down, and Zahn merely smiled back at him.

“Done. This is so fuckin’ rad.” With a happy sigh, the Player slapped his hand to the completed line of circles and sent power into the shape. Even his headache couldn’t stop his bright mood, the finished project beaming down at him in the mana spectrum as if it were an overhead lamp. As the chain absorbed his mana, he saw each of the circles fill completely before the next and each sigil glowed as it took in the power. With a final nod and grunt he tapped the runes in the proper order, watching as the glowing light intensified with each touch until it activated and split down the middle. The great wall broke with a crack, echoing around the mostly quiet arena and dragging itself apart to reveal the doorway.

Congratulations! You have learned a new spell!

The spell is an Earth domain, Rank Err.

Error: You do not qualify to unlock this spell.

Error: Compiling available options.

Error: Updating spell notification.

Congratulations! You have learned a new spell!

The spell is an Earth domain, Rank 1.

You now have access to: Sever!