Augmentation

Garrick lies motionless in the void of space. A warped voice, gaining in volume as it rushes close before fading back into the darkness.

"Pitch black. That's all there is. We started in the nothingness and will return to it someday... or will you resist?"

As the warped voice growls, a flashing series of jagged and broken images beam to the forefront of Garrick's mind.

"The toll strikes once, the walls come down"

An image of towering walls now crumbling. Familiar walls. Coldstone walls. The very walls that shielded Volmyr now bring calamity to the denizens from atop.

"The toll strikes twice, for all to see"

A calm in the storm of desolation as the citizens stare in disbelief. The thick dust, once a cloud of unity and purpose, now shrouds the enemy at the gates.

"The toll strikes thrice, hell has arrived!"

A hellish choir of scrambled screams erupts from the haze of the unknown. Thudding, bounding, an incalculable amount of stomps as thousands of monsters with grotesque proportions stitched together with vile intentions pour through the cloud of death. A mixture of limbs stemming from a central system, like branches of a tree. Beings of such horrific design that slaughter everything in sight, and in the dust stands their commander wielding two glowing green eyes that despises it all.

"A nightmare or a dream?...."

Garrick's rested eyes greet the near pitch black. The faint light seeping through the door reassures him that he is indeed awake. His nightmare was horrific by any standards as he watched the annihilation of an entire city, but it didn't weigh Garrick down like the nightmares that came before, and realization scared him. His only recourse was to push the thoughts down into the farthest reaches of his mind and carry on. As he stands up, Garrick feels fine. In fact, he feels good. Taking his scarred hands, he rubs his face, the only part of his body not covered in runes, then springs to his feet, determined for another optimistic day. Garrick knows dwelling on the bad thoughts is like quicksand, slowly dragging you down until you're simply...gone.

Making his way out of his room, he shuts the door behind himself, locking the dark inside as he walks in the light toward the reading chamber, where voices are bouncing through the marbled walls, where Meetlemire, Kyra and Araval stand.

"Lillian has finished preparing the ritual, son. We'll have your family here by day's end. I'm sure it's felt like forever since you last saw them." Araval happily tells Meetle the good news as an affectionate smile spans his face.

"It'll be good to see them again. I've missed them more than you-" Meetle speaks sincerely, but an annoyed Kyra overpowers his voice.

"I've been waiting for half an hour on that 'scribbled on piece of paper' waking up for you to tell us why you wanted to speak to us, Elf. So let's just get to it." Kyra exasperatedly voices while pointing at Garrick, who is less than thrilled that Kyra has already begun her verbal tirade so close to him waking up. Araval stares for a moment then begins to speak.

"Eager, I like that. The news isn't concrete yet, but we may have a way to locate Primordial Artefacts." The party rouses, listening intently to Araval's every word. "So you three must prepare yourself to the best of your abilities. I have said it before, and I'll repeat it. This is dangerous, life-threatening work. Xzeralaki will kill you if you stand between her and the Primordial Artefacts."

Araval's words instil a particular aspect of dread in them but also a greater aspect of motivation to push themselves to heights beyond what they thought was capable.

"Way to bring the mood down, Elf. Don't have to be so doom and gloom." Kyra sarcastically voices as Araval squints back at her.

"This is precisely 'doom'. Failure to stop her means catastrophic cataclysm of our entire planet." Confused, Araval replies. "Was I not clear enough on this matter?"

Garrick chuckles. "She's busting your balls. She's been in the woods too long and doesn't know how social manners work. Give her a break. It's a miracle she hasn't tried to eat the books in here."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm pretty sure Kyra's the missing link, so let's cut her some slack." Meetle snickers as he hides behind his Araval.

Kyra glares at them both. "I don't like this new dynamic where you both gang up on me. Let's go back to being strangers where you both were scared of me."

A small tirade of banter and snarky replies are traded between the party as Araval stares dumbfounded that these people are going to be entrusted with gathering the Primordial Artefacts.

"OKAY! Let's end this squabbling. Garrick, take a book from the shelf for me." Araval cuts in, trying to advance somewhere more beneficial.

"A book? What one you wanting?" Garrick curiously replies as he heads to the nearest bookcase with cautious optimism. 

"Not for me. It's for you. Pick any book from the shelf. It doesn't matter which, they're all the same." Araval replies as he strokes his beard. "The bookcase here delivers the book you need, not one you want."

"Huh, what's that meant to mean?" Garrick, perplexed, grabs a weathered crimson-coloured book and reads the title of it:

'Augmentation: Aspect Buffing.'

"What do you mean it gives the book you need?" Meetle curiously adds, interested in Araval's words.

"The Sanctum is magic, and the bookcase is a part of the Sanctum. You grip a tome from the shelf, and the bookcase determines the best book suited for you. That book in your hand, Garrick, is one I thought would serve you well, and it seems the Sanctum agrees.

"You make it sound like the Sanctum is alive," Kyra asks, crossing her arms, looking sceptical of Araval's explanation.

 Araval responds to Kyra, taking a moment to consider her words. 

"I suppose thinking of the Sanctum as a living entity is more straightforward than understanding the complexities of magic. But regardless, the end result is the same." 

"Garrick, If my theory is correct, then that tome in your hand will be much more suited to your needs, at least in the meantime, until you learn to control your magic better. I need to help Lillian with any finishing touches. Try not to squabble amongst yourself while I'm away, if possible." 

Araval exits the Sanctum, leaving the party to their own devices.

"I didn't like the way he said that. Almost as if he's talking down to us." Kyra says, her expression turning sour as she glares at Araval, his comments leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She looks toward Garrick, who has been too engrossed in his new book. He stares at the cover, running his hand over the bumpy texture and admiring the title, which is raised with a yellow rectangle framing it.

"Hey, idiot!" Garrick looks up in surprise. "It's good you know you're an idiot and respond to it. You gonna just keep looking at the cover, or you gonna read something? Or do you need a hand with the big words?" Kyra laughs as she walks over, hitting Garrick on the arm.

"I'm the idiot? Araval seemed to think it was you." Garrick mumbles with a chuckle as he walks through to the training chamber. Meetle giggles at Garrick's joke, but when Kyra's head snaps around, her gaze full of storm, he scuttles off to his chair next to the fire.

"Good idea, Meetle. And you! Get back here!" Kyra bellows, bounding after Garrick, who has picked up his pace and found a little nook to sit in while he reads his book inside the training chamber, partly trying to hide from Kyra.

"You talk a lot for a guy that reads nowadays. How about you go fight the tin can, or you maybe...scared?" Kyra taunts Garrick as she grabs a bow from the weapon rack and walks onto the sand.

"I'm letting you catch back up, Elf. You had a mental breakdow-"

"Participant Kyra Starzyn detected, resuming previous progress, level four activating," B.U.D.I. announces, its booming, robotic voice filling the chamber. The armour's leather melts, giving way to shinier metal underneath and, finally, a metal sword to bring the danger of realistic battle into the training chamber.

"LEVEL FOUR?! What happened to you the last couple of days?!" Garrick shouts, utterly confused at the progress Kyra's made. But it becomes evident to him why Kyra has reached level four. Even with her injuries still healing, she moves so nimbly every movement seems unwasted as she battles toe-to-toe with B.U.D.I., who is moving much faster than Garrick remembers. However, level four proves to be Kyra's current limit as she slowly becomes sluggish and tired, her breath ragged as the sustained combat, piece by piece, saps her energy until she eventually can't dodge the next strike. A crunching elbow from B.U.D.I to Kyra's jaw proves decisive as it almost gets dislocated, dazing her just long enough for a final blow, where B.U.D.I., with its shield raised, shoulder-barges into her with such force she skids back and tumbles off the sand, too tired to get back up, her chest raising and lowering quickly as she gasps for breath.

"Your...turn." Kyra points to Garrick and then to B.U.D.I. as she agonizingly utters, the taste of blood pooling in her mouth. 

Garrick buries his head in his book, not eager to get his ass kicked just yet. "Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of me reading." Garrick grips the book tightly, not wanting to see how far he has fallen behind her.

"Bah!...Cow...ard." Kyra vaguely waves in his direction but drops her arm back down, still too exhausted to speak.

The front page of the book 'Augmentation: Aspect Buffing' reads as such:

'Are you a complete failure as a mage at controlling magic? 

Are you the laughingstock of the magic world? 

Do you cry yourself to sleep at night?

 If you answered yes to any of these questions, then worry not! We have the perfect (potential) solution for you!

Some magical wielders that struggle to use magic externally, such as casting a fireball to burn any wicked goblins, perhaps indicate that you benefit more from internal magic, such as increasing your speed past its standard limit!'

"Internal magic?" Like Internal Utilization?" Garrick asks himself as he continues reading on.

'Magic can still be difficult to learn this way and can rely on a user's emotional state to maximize its potential, but this is also a double-edged sword as a wild emotional state can be detrimental to oneself, so caution is paramount!

To effectively use aspect buffing, particularly in the early stages of your development, it is vital to concentrate on a specific purpose. Pick up a weapon and focus on the mana flowing down into your arm while maintaining steady breathing! By this point, you should feel a rush of blood down your arm, and all you need to do is say the activation words as you swing the sword and bask in the unbridled power of aspect buffing!

Activation word: Strength Activate!

Garrick's eyes light up with excitement. "Now, this is more like it! Simple!" He walks over to the weapon rack, still reading the book, and picks up a one-handed sword. Kyra, sitting up now, moves her jaw from side to side, making a clicking noise every time she moves it to the right. She looks at Garrick curiously.

Closing his eyes, Garrick breathes rhythmically as he grips the sword tightly, imagining a flow of water down his arm. A warm rush of blood courses down his arm as it gets warmer, to the point it feels like it's burning.

"Is this the feeling? Let's see what it does!" Garrick thinks to himself as he clenches his teeth.

"Strength *SNAP*-" Before Garrick can finish the activation word, the sword snaps in half as the metal clangs against the wooden floor.

"Was that meant to happen?" Kyra asks, confused, still moving her jaw from side to side. 

Garrick turns around with a grin. 

"I did that!" Garrick was thoroughly impressed by what he had done, even if it was considered a failure by trained mages. "I think I need a stronger sword, though."

Looking at the weapon rack as it spans the entire wall, there is too much choice for Garrick as his eyes dart back and forth at the varied weaponry, each with a specific purpose in the art of killing. Then his eyes descended on the one. It was almost as if the weapon was showing itself off like a grand peacock, with the rippled pattern on the blade shimmering against the light. A greatsword much too big to be called a sword, massive, thick and heavy for its wielder but begging to be wielded. Garrick slowly puts his hand on the black grip and attempts to lift it, but it will not budge. So he places another hand and pulls with all his might as it slowly shifts off the metal wall supports and plummets to the ground as the upper third of the sword pierces the floor.

"You overcompensating, Garrick?" Kyra chuckles as she stares at Garrick, struggling to move the greatsword out of the flooring.

Eventually, Garrick pulls the sword free, leaving a nasty gash on the floor where the blade once was. He looks at the blade with a smile, knowing that this is the weapon he was meant to use.

"I think this'll work...and wouldn't you like to know, Elf."

End Chapter