Roadside Magic

Rather than continue treading water in town trying to figure out the sudden change, I decided to proceed with my journey immediately.

The situation was not ideal, but there was no use hoping it would change again by sheer chance. In the meantime, I needed to work out the mechanics of magic and spellcasting as soon as possible, in the event the road to the capital was as fraught with danger as Angrea had claimed. I wasn't sure, either, how magic was perceived in this world, or how easily it was to control - the last thing I wanted was to out myself as magically-capable in the village, only to find some horrible association with the practice existed. That, or accidentally set a house or two on fire trying to get the hang of it.

Thus, the road would be my testing ground, away from prying eyes. Time was of the essence - I needed to understand how to protect myself, lest danger catch me with my pants down. It definitely was not because I was excited to be throwing around spells. Definitely not.

The village certainly increased in size and volume as I passed through the center. While those on the outskirts knew immediately that I was an outsider, it seemed easier to get mixed in with the crowd further inside. I was sure everyone still knew everyone else - when people got a good look at my face, they seemed to visibly react to the presence of someone new, even here - but they were less inclined to pay attention to every face that passed them by.

I made note of what appeared to be an inn as I continued, but otherwise wasted no time leaving. Priorities, and all.

The way out of the village in this direction, too, seemed much more popular than the way I had arrived. Given this road was supposed to lead to the capital, this wasn't exactly a revelation. That meant that I was not alone in my travels, and instead set off with a loose group in tow. Perhaps this was a way for the villagers to use the roads without fear - a lone traveler was a much more appealing target for a thief or hungry animal, after all.

Now, as for "monsters" - whatever that constituted in this world - I had a harder time believing such a small throng of villagers would stand much of a chance against. Maybe forces from the capital made sure these lands remained monster-free for that reason.

Either way, as much as it seemed the riskier option, I let the group of travelers pass me by by pretending my boot needed tending to. Since the group was informal and unagreed upon, no one made any attempt to wait while I fought with my equipment. After a few minutes of pretending, I was alone.

I set out again immediately, hoping to travel in the space between groups. If my understanding was correct, and this was a common practice, then the villagers traveled in waves - waiting for other travelers to accumulate before setting out. Thus, if I waited too long, I'd be caught in the next wave - assuming there would be another, anyway.

It was a lot of assumptions to make, but it was my best bet at some privacy. And until I knew how magic fit into this world, privacy was what I needed.

"Lightning bolt!" I shouted with an outstretched hand, pointing my open palm at a nearby rock. Nothing happened.

"Hmm, guess the staff is necessary...?" I wondered aloud, pulling the twisted wooden object from my waist.

"Objective fulfilled: Fail to cast a spell."

"Wha-failed? Do I lack the stats or something?" I shot back at Penta. Maybe it wasn't just the staff that was the problem.

"Displaying current stat distribution."

A small window appeared in my view, looking like a standard character status screen. It displayed my name, my health, and a short list of stats, including familiar ones like "strength" and "intelligence." Naturally, as I had suspected, my strength and dexterity stats were lacking, but my intelligence was high - as you'd expect for a mage build.

"Is this window just in my head, or...?" I asked aloud, swiping at the air where it was suspended. The view of my hand was blocked by the window, meaning that it was not displayed outwardly. Closing my eyes, I found that it remained open, even then.

"Huh..." I mumbled, making a mental note. I had a feeling I'd be looking at this screen often enough. "Wait, the hell is this 'Secrecy' stat?"

Indeed, mixed in with the usual RPG staples was a strange stat labeled 'secrecy.' It was my third highest stat, as well, behind intelligence and wisdom.

In response, a second window popped up next to the secrecy stat, offering an explanation.

"Stat that governs the ability to keep secrets. Effects how often others take notice of your actions."

I took the time to read the description of the other stats, just in case. Thankfully, the others were exactly as I thought they'd be - strength effected physical strength, dexterity effected speed and agility, constitution effected health, intelligence effected spellpower, and wisdom effected one's mana pool.

"Well that's comforting, but why the hell isn't it working?" I asked no one in particular, taking my staff in hand. "Lightning bolt!" I shouted a second time, this time pointing the staff dramatically at the rock. Nothing happened.

"Objective fulfilled: Fail to understand the concept of magic."

"Man, these objectives are specific! Can I get a list, by chance?"

"No."

I was dumbfounded by her candidness. I was expecting some strange, convoluted, robotic-sounding excuse, not blatant refusal. Whatever.

"Lightning bolt!" I shouted a third time, to no effect. I swung the staff this way and that, making strange poses with the rest of my body in the hopes that something would change. "Lightning bolt! Lightning bolt! Lighting BOLT!"

Nothing happened. The rock remained un-bolted.

"God DAMN it!"

A bolt of cyan energy cracked through the air, blowing off a chunk of the rock. Its smug perfection was no more.

"Huh?" I questioned, confused. I didn't even chant the spell! I swung my staff at the rock again, but, like before, nothing happened. I clenched my teeth, trying to remember exactly what I was doing when it worked. My staff wasn't even pointed...

I flicked my hand at the rock and a bolt of lightning cracked off of it, originating from the tip of the outstretched limb. It would appear magic had less to do with chanting spells, and more to do with visualization and intent.

It was then that I noticed that the sleeve of my robe was blackened slightly.

"Shit! Maybe that's why they use staves. Imagine if it was a fire spell..."

I experimented more - it took a little bit of trial and error to get the spell to come from the staff properly, to avoid further clothing damage. Again, the key was visualization - I needed to will the spell into coming from the staff, using it as an extension of myself, or else the bolt would shoot from my hand directly into the wood, briefly electrifying the staff. I noted, as well, that despite shooting a few bolts directly into the staff in my hand before I got the hang of it, my hand itself remained undamaged, even as the staff coursed with electricity. The staff, too, seemed no worse for wear, though it might have been designed to withstand certain elements.

"Objective fulfilled: Cast a spell."

"You're a bit late with that," I shot back, having cast about 15 of them by now.

"Objective fulfilled: Cast a spell through a vessel."

I could only assume she meant the staff, though why it was called a "vessel," I had no idea. Out of curiosity, I decided to investigate something different: "Display list of available spells."

As I had hoped, a small window popped in a similar fashion as the status screen - which had been sent away earlier with a quick thought - that displayed not only the Lightning Bolt spell, but a handful of others, as well.

"Available spells: Water Jet, Ignition, Mold Earth, Lightning Bolt..."

All standard, elemental-based starter spells, available from level 1 and 2, with Lightning Bolt learned at 3.

"Atrocity."

The name was near the start of the list, but my eyes initially passed over it almost without realizing. If the list was the order in which the spells were learned - with Lightning Bolt as the most recent - this was something that this build had available at level 1.

"What the hell does it do...?" I asked aloud, hoping a helpful tooltip would appear to offer an explanation. None came.

Maybe this build was not as clear-cut as I had initially thought.