March 21, 2019. Late morning.

My break begins with the promised conversation. I allow Wyonna five minutes of what is mostly idle chatter, regaling me with her new fascination of worms and their place in earth’s biome. Which has something to do with a Jim? When the five minutes are over, I give her an extra couple minutes since she’s really on a roll. But once she’s finished, I drop my Focus, promising I’ll be back.

Theria isn’t watching me any longer, instead gazing out over the valley at where Thistle is tending to a field of wheat-like grain. Instead of continuing with the metal tree and its impossible whirlwinds, I join Theria in watching Thistle work. Her fronds sway in the wind as she reaches between a pair of stalks, plucking something from between their roots. I wonder if there are worms on Akilo? Like, just regular worms, not mana-infused monstrosities like the Vothborean.

For five minutes, I watch Thistle work before returning my attention to the System-detecting metal tree. I should've suspected the sensors were tuned to the System in some way. That was the whole point of these exercises. But it’s the only tool that had such an obvious indication I was failing.

This time, when I direct wind towards the tower, I cheat, pushing wind I don’t control towards the tower. I overdo it, nearly knocking the tower over, but I only light up three sensors.

My relief is interrupted by Theria’s laughter.

When I glare at her, she continues laughing but says, “That’s exactly how Genitha first solved the System-tree.”

“Oh. Well, I want to do it properly. But it’s annoying.”

Theria nods, getting to her feet. “I’ll leave you to it. Leave it on the table when you’re done. I have other things to do today.”

“Wait. Do you have any advice on how to lower the amount of System mana I’m using?”

“Ha. You’re already better than I am, Alexis. Genitha warned me about you. But I didn’t listen. Don’t know why I thought I could help.” Theria smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She reaches towards me, but her hand drops as she shakes her head. She looks up at the sky for a moment before drawing her hand to her chin. “Maybe…” As she trails off, she shakes her head again, giving me another small smile. “No… Good luck Alexis. Remember, take care of yourself. And Rukie!”

“You too,” I respond automatically as she marches down the stairs leading to her cabin, disappearing into the attached tool-shed.

Having been abandoned by Theria, I stare at the tree. The tree stares back as I bring my mana in close. How do I even identify mana as System-mana? I felt it when she lowered the mana around me. A technique I haven’t mastered. Should I start there?

I spend a few minutes trying to lower the ambient mana surrounding me, but… it feels wrong. Like I’m trying to hold water by throwing it against a sun-baked wall mid-summer. Instead, I start replacing the mana in my vicinity. It’s not that different from taking control of the mana-storm. Soon I’ve pushed back the ambient mana for several metres around the tree. When I create a metal fan and wave it at the tree, I’m able to replicate Theria’s feat.

Which means that she must have exerted her will over the ambient mana. But she admitted she can’t create the whirlwind directly.

A quick test confirms that while my mana is currently less-infused with System-mana, it’s still there, a dozen sensors lighting up. So, I turn inward for inspiration. If I’m able to use the System interface to subvert the System, that seems like the best route to bypassing it.

Within my soul-space, I inspect the interface. I know how to tease a System thread loose to follow to the others. Can I do the same thing from my own mana?

Several minutes later, I’m throwing gouts of flame into the sky, each one the size of a school bus. Trying to tease small strands of mana apart from System mana proved more frustrating than I anticipated. But when I decided to de-stress by unleashing a blast of lightning, I noticed that System-mana was much easier to observe when used in larger workings. So now I’m attempting to cast a full-size fire torrent without System-mana. It’s not perfect, but I’ve managed to decrease the inherent System-mana by using more runes.

It seems counter-intuitive to me that more runes reduces the amount of System-mana, but my testing on the tree confirms it. I’m able to create a gentle gust that only lights up a pair of golden sensors.

Not quite perfect, but good progress for a single morning.

Deciding it’s enough for now, I return the tree to Theria’s table while letting Wyonna babble at me. Theria is nowhere to be seen, but Thistle and Ckichik both wave me off as I recombine the box of keys with my throne.

Watching the river carefully, I think I catch sight of the water Elemental, but it remains hidden beneath the surface, its form a dark blob moving against the current. Then I arrive at the standing stones, setting the throne down just outside the circle before approaching the southern stone.

I pause time, studying the runes scattered over its surface. Who created these runes? Was it Theglia? Are they unique? Or are they common in other parts of the System-integrated worlds?

Whatever their source, I’m able to tell most operate without System mana. The rune I use for charging it absorbs System-mana easily enough. But it changes the mana as it passes through. By the time it enters the rest of the structure I can’t detect it.

I place my hand on the pillar, attempting to access the System interface by Focusing on it. It flashes in my sight for a second before disappearing. I’m not even able to bring up the menu.

Is this how Rose used to feel?

Trying again, I strain to establish a connection, using my Facet and Focus again. There’s a pop, a connection forming for a second. But it isn’t to the System.

I can feel Smoulder’s confusion as she looks around, surrounded by thousands of K’tharn. Then the light disappears. Above, a fleet so large it blots out the sun is descending toward her. I have just enough time to make out the familiar shape of a Thenite droneship releasing its Skyfighters before I collapse back on the lawn, the connection to Smoulder gone.

That was… that was bad. Worse than Uthica had ever mentioned. But it was wrong too. Smoulder was… earlier?

Floating back to my feet, I reach out to connect to the Nexus, prepared to try again.

This time, my System comes up, but sputters out before I’m able to do anything. I continue my attempts for five minutes, but there’s no progress. Somehow, it’s worse than before I contacted Wyonna. Eventually, I grow frustrated with my lack of progress, flopping down in my throne. I spend half an hour talking with Wyonna, attempting to check my status every five minutes just to see if it’s working. Wyonna’s just about convinced me that I should learn chess notation so we can play together when another mana-storm appears on the horizon.

[Alexis] “I kind of want to challenge the storm.”

[Wyonna] “Really? Do it. That’d be super cool.”

[Alexis] “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to be careful? What if my System gets even worse?”

[Wyonna] “Are you kidding? Who cares? It’s already broken. This is going to be awesome!”

The charred side of my face cracks as the smile on my face grows to match Wyonna’s enthusiastic tone. I ascend toward the storm, a metres-thick dome of earth encasing my throne below. Just in case.

Fire and shards of metal scream towards me as I enter the storm. They’re easily redirected, but I realize this particular storm is more chaotic than most I’ve seen. Not ideal, but workable. It ends up being easier than the last. With my recent work with Theria’s metal tree, it’s obvious that the mana-storm is a chaotic blend of System-mana and unattuned mana. Wait… all the mana that’s attuned to the System contains traces of Twilight. And the unattuned mana is completely lacking twilight. Is Twilight, System-mana?

I wrestle a swirling clump of metal shards, roaring wind and crackling lightning mana closer. Infusing it with Twilight, doesn’t do anything at first. It’s like it doesn’t want to stick to the other elements. It takes me several attempts before I’m able to find the key. Each element requires a very specific aspect of Twilight. I’ve spent so long just using my personal defaults I’d almost forgotten how variable Twilight mana is.

Again, I infuse a clump of elemental chaos with Twilight, matching it to each element’s wavelength. Then I separate them into their component elements. But they remain linked, drawing back together when I release them. They’re still chaotic. But there’s an order to them now.

Theria’s tree! I have to try using Twilight magic on the tree. Why didn’t Theria mention this! Wait. Can she even manipulate Twilight? Does this mean I can use Twilight to fix my System interface?

Could’ve used this a couple hours ago.

Damp forest scents waft through the air as the storm recedes, its ferocity greatly diminished in the wake of my experiments. Despite its chaotic nature, this storm only had weak void energies. They weren’t even large enough to test my original containment designs. There definitely wasn’t enough to add Twilight to the mix.

The dome over my throne is partially shattered but remains mostly intact. It’s worrying that I didn’t notice when it took damage, considering I was trying to protect it during the storm. Clearly, I was more distracted than I realized.

Beth would be disappointed.

…

Okay, moving on. With the storm gone, and my new understanding of Twilight, I return to the Nexus. I sit, leaning my forehead against the standing stone as I direct my attention inward. It takes several minutes of tracing connections from Wyonna’s messages to find most of the components of my interface.

I patch them, slowly reinforcing the structure one at a time. It’s an improvement but the connection is weak. There’s more to the interface than the links, but all I can do is use mana to reinforce them. Despite my efforts, the actual structure is damaged, preventing me from calling forth my full status. At least I’m able to bypass the primary interface, though I have to check each aspect of my Status one line at a time. It takes me five minutes to review everything. Nothing’s changed since my upgrade. And most important, the crest is still available. That’s a relief. Was half-worried it would be destroyed like my System.

But… even though I have the Advancement Crest, I can’t use it to grab the training room without accessing the System shop. Which isn't working.

…

Fine. Genitha can probably help.

Returning to my throne, I fly north. I’m passing over the river when something catches my eye. Below me, the elemental is resting over a set of low rapids. The size is the most visually obvious clue that it's the same elemental, but there's another, more subtle clue. It's rotating through the English alphabet.

As if that isn’t enough, it’s displaying my name.

Redirecting is practically required as I float toward the elemental.

This time I land, approaching the elemental on foot. When I get closer, it quivers, but doesn’t immediately retreat into the river. So I stop, waving at it. Then I create my name.

It's water sphere quivers as it sounds out, “Ah-lex-uhs.”

“Yeah. Alexis. That’s me,” I reply, in English.

“Alexis!” It proclaims at a volume that sends me back a step, sending waves lapping at the shore. For a second I’m worried I’ve made a mistake, but it stays where it is, still quivering.

I take a step forward and an orb next to it floats toward me. Another step, and the orb moves while expanding. With each step, the orb matches my pace while simultaneously stretching until it’s mimicking my shape. It doesn’t copy my regular appearance. Instead, it offers a disturbing mirror. My face is worse than I thought. It’s not just my eye.

There are small strings of hair on the right side of my face but everything else is… I gingerly reach up to touch the remnants of my nose, the elemental mirroring my actions. Most of my nose is just… gone. The nerves must be dead, cause I can’t feel anything when I attempt to wiggle the remaining piece.

It’s honestly ghastly. I’ve seen undead in horror films that looked healthier. Most of them, really. Luckily, I’m only seeing the shape. I’m not sure how I’d react if it was accurate down to the hue of my seared cheeks. Man, Theria has an iron will to not even twitch when she looked at me.

And also, obviously saw through my lie of being fine.

“Alexis,” the elemental says again, reminding me it’s not just a fancy mirror. I smile, and the mimic follows.

Oh god. The hole in my cheek is big enough to...

I immediately stop smiling, switching to creating letters out of water instead. I decide to start with my name and an arrow pointing to myself while saying my name. The elemental reacts immediately, bobbing up and down.

Then I turn the arrow toward it and create a question mark. I accompany the question mark with a shrug of my shoulders, a gesture shared by K’tharn. Hopefully it’s not as afraid of body language as it is of spoken Vausian.

It doesn’t respond, and after a few minutes of it copying my actions, I realize I don’t have time to teach it English. Not enough to communicate anyway. So, I decide to risk Vausian.

“Please don’t be scared,” I say, in as gentle a voice as I can manage.

The elemental quivers at my words. But it doesn’t run away, so I’m counting it as a win.

“Can you understand me?” I ask.

There’s no response from the elemental, but the mimic stops copying me. Instead, it starts bubbling, making soft popping noises. I’m not certain what’s happening until suddenly the mimic says, “Yuh-yes.”

The voice originates in my copy’s chest, but it’s still progress. “What’s your name?”

“No… no name,” the elemental quivers, the mimic shaking its head in sync.

“No? Do you want a name?”

“Alexis!” the mimic proclaims.

“That’s my name,” I agree.

“My name is Alexis!” the mimic says, pointing at the elemental.

“Uh. I mean, if you want, sure,” I say. It seems so excited; I don’t have the heart to explain that it could have its own name. Then again, on Akilo, Alexis is a rare name.

Without warning, the mimic collapses, the orb rocketing back to orbit the elemental. Nearly as quickly, Alexis the elemental slips into the river with a booming, “Bye!”

I’m left standing next to the rapids, wondering what just happened.

One second, it's taking my name. And the next it’s abandoning me? That’s some emotional whiplash right there.

A crack from behind me, prompts me to turn just in time for a stone to smack into my chest, not taking off so much as a point of Health. Probably. Standing in the tree line are several Pothlin, their twisted forms hoisting rocks then throwing them in my direction.

I could end them in less than a second. A simple chain lightning would leave nothing but smoking corpses, ready to return to mana. But I don’t. Because I have a better idea. Instead, I use them as practice, creating a flame arrow with my oldest rune, ensuring there isn’t so much as a trace of Twilight. I watch it incinerate one of the Pothlin, the energy devouring them wildly. Even as they burn, I weave another arrow, this time reinforced with excess Twilight. It punches through the Pothlin, not so much setting it on fire as disintegrating its way through.

Less than a minute later and I’ve confirmed a few things. One, Pothlin are ridiculously weak. I ended up killing one by slapping it away after it got too close after stumbling down the bank. Two, more Twilight does not mean more damage. It just makes the spell stabler. Three, spells without Twilight require way more runes to create the same effect. It’s no wonder every spell the System uses is infused with Twilight

As I’m pondering how changing the runes of my Flame-Arrow spell might allow me to cause it to alter its trajectory in flight, one last Pothlin steps out from behind a tree. One of its twisted arms is missing, but that doesn’t stop it from howling as it throws a rock at me before charging down the bank toward me. In curiosity, I send an unstructured blast of fire mana at it, sheathed in Twilight, not to give it structure, but to prevent System-mana from leaking in.

The shockwave picks me off my feet throwing me halfway across the river before I catch myself.

Well. That was more explosive than I expected. When I go back to the body, it’s completely gone. The ground it was standing on is now molten slag. It’s warm enough to cause my burns to ache through my fire-resistance. Impressive. Haven't had a spell explode on me like that since the early days.

I launch another projectile, exactly the same, though the second I release it, I Pause time, moving across the river away from it. When it detonates, the explosion is underwhelming. Barely the size of a regular arrow. Three more arrows have the same effect. It’s only when I aim the fifth arrow at one of the Pothlin bodies that I discover what happened.

When the arrow hits the body, the explosion triggers a cascade, collapsing the entire riverbank. The river pours into the new crater, flash boiling as it meets the molten rock, obscuring the exact size. But it’s big. That was the opposite of a controlled reaction.

Note to self. Be very careful with these experiments.

Looking about, I realize Alexis the elemental has made itself scarce. Smart move. I retreat down the shore to where I left my throne. I reach it right as it’s falling, the ground crumbling beneath it as the river weaves its new path. The throne itself didn’t escape the blast, one of the front legs melted away, one corner of the box within exposed. Need to stop experimenting while I have these keys. I’m far too used to being able to keep things safely stored in inventory. And to my magic no longer being so surprising.

With my new discoveries involving Twilight I drift towards Theria’s. But then I remember my appearance. The idea of being around other people knowing the way I look drives me away.

Besides. I’ve spent too much time lazing about, waiting for others to come to me.

I smile as I remember who I wanted to be when we faced Ivicka. The taxi.

What sort of taxi waits for others to pick them up?