After tying the final thread and biting off the string, Max put on his newest creation. Compared to the cape he had made for Cy; this one was a lot more durable. It would have to be. Things had been intense for them over the last few days, as they struggled to go North. First, they almost got swarmed by during people if it weren’t for BB giving them a last-minute ride to the next closest port. Next, they checked out the hint provided by the system only to be shown a series of obscure numbers. 1,290,393 / 502,192 / 78,291 / 1,249 / 3. Neither of them could figure out what it meant. Then, the snow began to fall unnaturally early this year, hampering their progress dramatically. At present, they were taking shelter in an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the village neighbouring the duke’s estate, only to receive the news that Kurt may have gone to the capital until the snow melts.

  The door of their shed swung open to show the sun was already setting. A strong gust of wind blew in snow to make their rotting wooden floor decay more with the new, fresh layer of impending water. “Good news!” Cy declared, as he began to shake the snow off. Despite his initial protest, Cy had really taken to the cloak Max had made for him. “According to some of the locals, the snow came before Kurt… The fuck are you wearing?”

  Max took off the cloak, so Cy could take a closer look. “BB suggested I should make a second cloak-”

  “Isn’t that Ellie’s skirt?”

  “Her name’s Serena now,” Max corrected. “I used it as the base since it was the largest piece of fabric left. BB wouldn’t let me dismantle her dress, remember? She wanted it for memories and-”

  “Isn’t that my blood?” Cy pointed at a stain, which was blended into a red fringe.

  “… I tried to wash it out.”

  “Then maybe don’t use that part.” Cy threw the cloak back at Max instead of towards the dying fire. It wasn’t difficult to ignore the complaints and imagine he marginally approved of the piece of clothing. “You know, sometimes you can be a real fr-” Cy cut his words short while Max raised an eyebrow. “Never mind.”

  Cy took out a small bag he had swiped from the pirate crew and pulled out the groceries he had picked up from the village. Max’s mood perked back up again when he saw Cy getting ready to make them some kind of soup over the dwindling fire. After balancing a metal pot of fresh snow on top of the fire using various abandoned tools around the shed, Cy began to cut the ingredients with Max’s pocket-knife and add giant chunks to the soup. Carrots, parsnips, onions, oats… the usual until Cy pulled out some sort of dried meat and foreign chunks of… things.

  “What’s that?” Max asked, while trying to bring some logs to help save the tiny fire.

  “What’re you doing?” Cy answered the question with a question before shooing Max away to the edge of the shed, far away from the cooking food. “You know the drill. When the pot is out, you’re in the corner.”

  Max sulked slightly, as he watched from afar. “It’s not going to explode just cause I’m a little closer.” Cy gave a knowing look to Max. Darius spilled the beans a long time ago. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay away.”

  “She may have been your sister, but I don’t know how she could forgive you for making that egg explode.”

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  Max frowned, trying to recall which sister he was referring to. Eventually, he gave up. It was quicker to just ask. “Which one?”

  “How should I know?” Cy began to stir the strange mix of ingredients. Delicious? Disgusting? It didn’t matter. They had no choice if they wanted to eat. “Dad just mentioned you putting an egg in some kind of box, taking it out, and then it exploded next to your sister. She got some scars from it.” Dad! Cy was finally calling him Dad again. Max felt a wave of relief from seeing Cy recover a little more from his grief. He may hide it. He may deny it. But it clearly still hurt deep inside. “What kind of box cooks food?” Cy grumbled while looking down at their miserable meal. This time wasn’t a great combination.

  “It was probably a microwave,” Max answered. The most important life to him set in the modern age was his first one. He also had a sister in that life, but he couldn’t recall her name, much less an egg-plosion.

  “What’s a microwave?”

  “Darius was practically a living microwave.” Max thought back to all the times Darius tried to use magic to hurry up food before charring or completely burning it. Then the fun memories were tainted by the brief moments the rays were directed at him at Elder Ji-min’s house. “Think of it like a box that cooks food by turning electricity into magic.”

  “Hmm… Was it any good?”

  “Amazing.” Max’s nose began to recoil from the extra stench from the pot. “What the fuck did you put in that thing?”

  Cy continued to look down into the metal pot. His face was becoming paler, as he took at the monstrosity he was making. “I’m not too sure, to be honest.” Max was about to scold him when he received a notification from the system. “The shopkeeper said these ingredients make a local soup, so I just took his word for it.”

  Looks like the system decided his first requirement.

  “The system says I’m not allowed to draw runes anymore,” he said in a calm voice. The sound of Max’s pocket-knife hitting the metal pot before a plop caused him to quickly look away and see Cy staring into the pot where it had landed, another terrible ingredient of the atrocious soup. “The penalty is a bit vague, so it might not be a big deal.”

  “Might not be a big deal,” Cy repeated in a mocking voice. “What exactly does it say?”

  “Major disabilities.” The look Cy gave Max almost made him laugh. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Here’s a thought, maybe you should avoid getting major, multiple disabilities,” Cy tutted before refocusing on saving the pocket-knife. It wasn’t going well.

  “Well, for now, we don’t have anything on hand with enough internal magic to work with anyway,” Max agreed with the idea. “Besides, you can write on behalf of me if needed.” Cy shot him a glare before grabbing a piece of left-behind wood to get the pocket-knife back out of the soup. “And…” Max searched for the small number of advantages they had. “And… We’ve been able to slip past the people chasing us… For the most part.” 50042 came to mind, but Max didn’t want to dwell on the details. Cy didn’t seem pleased, as he ignored Max. “Here, let me help you get it-” On cue, the pot of soup spilled the moment Max left the corner. The contents extinguished the weak fire before filling the air with a sickening smell of the rehydrated, mystery meat.

  “What did I say about staying in the corner?” Cy scolded.

  Max looked at the mess he was accused of before declaring, “Let’s go out and get more food.”

  “We have limited money and only rumours that Kurt’s even here.”

  “You can hustle money,” Max picked up their supplies causing Cy to raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say there was a large inn in the village? Let’s go there.” Cy still didn’t seem convinced. “Am I going to die tonight?” Cy reluctantly shook his head. “Then what’re we waiting for? It’s far too cold to stay in a shed for a night.”