Fudge settled back into his place at the foot of the bed. I stared at a ceiling I couldn’t see. The dull throbbing in my head had yet to subside. It might have been easy to believe the last several hours were naught but a dream. Fortunately, I had evidence to the contrary.

  Status.

  The System window answered my call. There was pride to be found in success, to see it so clearly spelled out. I only wished I had more people to share it with. If not for Fudge’s presence, I’d have been celebrating alone in the dark. With a thought, I prompted The System further.

  Well, I’ll be…

  To me, the System was a largely unhelpful phenomenon. It was an opinion born of past experiences, one I had never had cause to challenge until that moment. Mana mutation. The term was foreign to me. I could infer its meaning, to an extent. Memories of Tina’s metallic hair came to mind and- Wait, did my hair change when I borrowed Fudge’s mana? It was something to ask Cruz, perhaps.

  Regardless, The System had given me insights I did not already possess; it gave them to me in retrospect, but the occasion still warranted special note, if only so that I might sarcastically celebrate the date once every calendar year. Reluctantly, I pushed the newest litany of distracting thoughts aside. They could wait.

  The System could wait, too, technically. It was I who could not.

  Show me the expanded Skill Augmentations.

  I discarded the memory augmentation as an option. A woman’s face materialized in my mind’s eye. Where once the details were fraying, having grown dull and uncertain with age, they had since been restored to pristine collection. A mental photograph. No, more than that. Her voice; her laugh; the way she’d sometimes dance while making pancakes… I made sure to save it all, even when it hurt. It was that endeavor that earned me the augmentation, no doubt. Improving that facet of the Skill further was not my priority.

  The three remaining options were not so easily dismissed. Life was fragile. Death was terrifying. Would I return to The Nothing if I died again? It was the shackles of mortality that inspired me to choose Recovery all those years ago. Even so, when given the choice I did not select the specialized variant of the Skill, the one dedicated to keeping the meat sack that housed me in working order. Beyond the fear, beyond the dread, I remembered that survival was not my only goal.

  Therein lies the answer, I suppose. I smiled softly and the System Window changed again.

  I felt a faint stirring from my Core as the slight adjustment to my Skill took hold. There was no sudden spike of pain. My consciousness remained stable. It seemed as if the process occurred without incident. I read the screen again, content with my choice. When I Advanced Recovery, it was with a mind for its compatibility with Taming; selecting a similarly aligned Skill Augmentation was the obvious conclusion. I had to commit.

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  There were moments I regretted choosing Taming [Dog] alongside Recovery. Those moments were largely behind me, but they existed all the same. Like with Recovery, the choice was inspired by fear. I would have a massive dog, like Vigil; a fierce bodyguard, someone to protect me from the horrors of the world… or so I told myself. Naive thoughts, in hindsight. I could not imagine letting Fudge sacrifice himself for me.

  It was Lionel who forced me - rather, annoyed me - out of that early spiral of self pity. The advice he gave me was not profound, nor was it unknown to me, but having someone take the time to give it made all the difference, if only because it pried me away from my own head. Taming was probably not the most optimal choice. So what? I could just make it work anyway. Perseverance pulsed briefly in response to the thought, as if agreeing with the sentiment.

  Damn straight, I thought back. I took a moment to review my Core Skill, promising myself that I would surrender to sleep after the fact.

  Progress. It was well overdue. I nudged Fudge with my toe, the lazy equivalent of a high-five to celebrate. He grumbled and rolled on his back but otherwise failed to acknowledge my greatness. I didn’t blame him for it. It was late. He was tired and so was I, so I stopped fighting it.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  It would be most of a month before I could meet with Cruz again. He remained impossibly difficult to track down, not that I invested much time into the search. Rather, I never once encountered him by chance or serendipity despite presumably sharing a building with the man. The only sign of his continued existence was the note I received, slid under my door for me to discover the day after our excursion.

  We have bestiaries in the library. Read them. Keep working on your Skills. That should keep you busy for the month.

  We agreed upon a full curriculum. The brief message was decidedly not that. Was he testing my tolerance for his bullshit? Was he merely withholding an explanation until our next meeting? I decided to reserve judgement. To do otherwise would be a waste of time.

  Soon, one of the bestiaries rested on my desk. It was immaculate, pristine despite its apparent age and use judging by the occasional notes scribbled in the margins. The penmanship was exquisite, the words practically leaping from the pages to settle into my mind. Each entry featured a series of recounts and confirmed information about the subject.

  Studying the collected knowledge of The Slayers became the newest item I had to squeeze into my routine, a routine I fell back into with gusto. Perseverance remained the final barrier blocking my Advancement to the second Tier, so I had to make every second count.

  A few days after I Advanced Recovery, Mira left to work a job. Like Lionel, her status as Lieutenant came with the freedom to tackle certain incidents on her own. Engel and I occasionally crossed paths, but I mostly interacted with the ancillary staff during my limited downtime; Wynn in particular seemed to take a special interest in making sure I did not neglect the necessities in favour of my practice. I did not argue with her on that point. After witnessing her acumen in handling Cruz, I thought it best to remain in Wynn's good graces.

  By all accounts, I was settling in nicely. I still hadn’t had a chance to meet Ohchio, but neither had anyone told me the reclusive craftsman had fallen prey to disaster. I spent one evening penning a letter to send home, if for nothing else than to let Tina and Tulos know that I was safe. I’d give it to Mira when she returned.

  Fudge had started spending time hanging around the stables, having become fascinated with the horses. The stablehand took a shine to Fudge and started smuggling him treats from the kitchens. Everyone had taken a shine to Fudge, really.

  There was a simplicity to things, away from the worries of exposure, away from the guilt I felt every time a lie reminded me my parents had been raising a stranger. The future seemed promising, if little else.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  Easy now. Just a little bit of mana.

  I sat with my legs crossed. The grass brushed my thighs at places and pushed into it at others, leaving faint imprints in my skin. Morning exercise was behind me. It was time to practice with Fudge. Without the need to force an Advancement, I’d opted to take a more measured approach to Skill sharing. Before I dared experiment with Quantum Manipulation I wanted to have the underlying techniques down pat.

  Mana from Fudge’s Dog Skill passed through the Tamer Bond, barely more than a trickle. Mana from Taming guided it to my nose. I breathed in deeply, the world of scents suddenly revealing itself to me before fading just as quickly. Perseverance kept the slight impulses inspired by the mana at bay. Recovery cleansed the remnants from my system. It was a minor feat. The mana I’d borrowed from Fudge was barely worth the trouble. It was an important part of the process all the same.

  Again, I told myself. A fresh pulse of Perseverance banishing the boredom born of banal repetition from my mind. I-

  Fudge’s ears perked up and I felt his patience for the activity evaporate. He smelled something familiar. Something new. Something familiar. Something that was hard for him to pin down, evidently. With a wag of his tail he sprung to his feet and trotted towards the gates. I sighed. I could still borrow mana from Fudge while he was elsewhere, but I wanted to build up to that.

  “Alright then,” I called after him. “Show me what was so important.”

  The gates swung open, revealing a pair of horses, each with their own rider. A spear was resting on the pommel of one saddle. A tall, unstrung bow rested on the other. Fudge barked a greeting for he, like me, recognized one of the riders. Having experienced how complex a person’s scent could be, it didn’t surprise me that Fudge remembered hers despite the passage of time.

  “Pix!” I called out to get her attention. “Good to see you again!” I expected her to be one of the members of Squad Nine, given her connection to Mira. Pix gave a small wave in my direction before pointing towards the stables.

  I nodded my understanding. We would talk there. I wore a faint smile as I turned to offer a polite wave at the second rider, whose hood obscured the majority of her features. I called upon Perseverance, almost out of habit. Beneath the shadows lay the features of a young woman, barely an adult by my estimate. The glare she was levelling in my direction seemed all too personal to be coming from a person she just met, though.

  Well, that’s interesting, I thought dryly, suddenly struck by morbid curiosity. I turned to head towards the stables. A quick whistle brought Fudge into line beside me. If my practice was going to be interrupted by anything, I could do worse than a reunion and a petulant teenager.

  Gotta love progress. What are your thoughts on Will's choice?

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