“Close your eyes,” I tell the zoof. They look at me with a bit of fear, but eventually, give a shaky nod and do as I ask.
“We have a healing treasure,” I lie slowly. “We hide it away. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t steal it. Don’t look at it.”
Again, the zoof nods, and half a breath later, Kuro envelops us in a black box. Light winks out of existence as the shadows embrace both me and them. Slowly, I breathe in. Then out. A single heartbeat later, I hold my hands above the burnt fur and channel [Biological Restoration].
It takes a while to take hold, as if there were some residual fire or heat clinging to the wounds. I drown that in raw mana, suffocating the sticking problems. My vessel strains at the amount I’m channelling as tons of power pour from me into the skill construct. I adjust it, just a little, to take the amount of power better, to be more efficient.
A breath passes, and it finally takes hold. Gold-white mana clings to the wounds, sinking into them, knitting burnt patches of skin shut. The zoof slims down a tiny but noticeable bit, but besides giving a small whimper, they don’t complain much.
Second by second, the pain abates for them. Their face grows more relieved, and by the end of it, I note that they even fall asleep, with a faint smile. When I’ve used about a quarter of my mana, I sigh and nod to myself. I stretch out an arm, and Kuro quickly wraps around me as a cloak again, shielding my missing arm and the burnt mark.
Slowly, I turn away from the bed, finding Opal already in the room with me, sitting on their bunk bed, one leg crossed, the other dangling in the air. They give me a faint smile. “I dropped burny guy in the streets. Want me to murk him?”
“No,” I shake my head, then tilt it. “Why?”
“He’s gonna kill more people,” Opal says calmly, fixing me with a nonchalant stare.
Nodding, I think it over. “He’s got a bomb in him,” I say simply, and their eyes widen a little.
“Oh, shit.”
Again, I nod, then smile just faintly and wave a hand. “Toss him into a gutter. Let him fall to the fourth. If he dies, he’ll just explode some zombies. If he lives, he’ll have to crawl up again. And we have plausible deniability.”
My long-time friend snicker at that, covering their mouth with a hand. “Plausible deniability?” they ask with amusement. “Like he’s gonna think he randomly passed out?”
“We’ll shift the blame on Respitia,” I say with a shrug and a smirk. Would it work? Probably not. But then again, Lars seemed like a human… enthusiast, I’ll say, so maybe gaslighting him into blowing someone else up is doable.
Again, Opal smirks. “Devious. Alright, we’ll buy more time. Always more time, eh?” they ask cheerily, then move to channel some mana.
“Opal?” I ask quietly.
Instantly, the everpresent grin on their face vanishes. They unsummon their sword, eyes looking at me seriously. “Yeah?” they ask.
“Big favour, but could you bring the zoof downstairs?” I ask quietly. “I don’t want to be touched. Or touch someone.” Another shiver of disgust runs through me at the casual disregard of my personal space. Lars didn’t even touch me. He seemed friendly, even, in that way that rugged people with no sense are.
Perhaps, in some other world, him and I could have gotten along. But right now, I just feel disgusting. I want to scrape my skin off at the way he so casually reached for me.
Hopping down from their bed, Opal nods gently. They don’t speak, knowing me so well. Instead, they sign a few simple words with quick gestures. Just an affirmation, telling me they got it. Then, they walk a large circle around me, careful to maintain distance as possible while remaining in my line of sight.
Gently, they scoop up the zoof, giving me another small smile. I sign a thank you to them, and they nod. Then, they walk downstairs.
The door drops closed, and a moment later, I lean against the wall. The wood is rough against my, and I tap Kuro.
Instantly, they get my intent, and the cloak unlatches. Shadows drop off me like water dripping from an umbrella. Kuro consolidates, landing on the ground as the centipede-cat. They look at me with wide eyes, as if asking whether they can support me. I slowly shake my head.
With a quick nod, they curl up near me - but not too close. I sink down against the wall, putting my headphones back on. Closing my eyes. The outside world turns dull and dark and quiet. I focus on my breathing, on what’s inside of me. The things no one can take away.
I focus.
For a long, long while, nothing happens. After about fifteen minutes, I take a breath, a little less shaky than before. My hand reaches out, and I softly scratch Kuro’s head. My shadow-friend gives a small purr at that, inching faintly closer.
Bit by bit, the disgust recedes. Waves of it, dragging back into the ocean. I breathe, I focus, I meditate. Eventually, when I feel ready, I reach out for my mana, shaping it. There’s a pressure against my will, something heavy and wild, but as part of my meditation, I am nothing if not in control.
My mana writhes and fights me. It wants to be wild and free. To break and wreck things. Just like me. But I’m in control.
I breathe in and out. My mana brushes against my will, and it shivers. Is it afraid? Perhaps it should be.
With slow, controlled motions, I reach out for it. When I take hold of that power which belongs to me, which spawns from my vessel, I breathe. My mind wraps around the ethereal force and directs it.
[Vessel Construction].
Mana slams into the outside of my vessel, but not with its usual rage. There is none of that hunger, that need in it. Every droplet is perfectly controlled. The motion is almost slow, and yet brutally forceful. Cracks spread through my vessel. Parts of my body shatter from the impact. Iron pools in my mouth.
[Vessel Construction 6 > 7]
I swallow, and focus. With incredible control, I withdraw the mana. I mend the cracks. I heal my injured vessel, and force it to expand. More and more of it is made from my repairs, from things that are under my control. It, too, bends to my will.
None of this is for the purpose of pain. This isn’t to make myself suffer. I don’t enjoy getting hurt. But I must be strong. Because when someone like Lars tries to touch me, I need to hold myself back. From killing them. The truth is, Opal saved his life.
Control. Breathing in and out. Another slow, horribly powerful slam into my core. The pain dulls and quiets as I [Suppress] it. Doing this for pain would defeat the purpose. I am in control.
The cracks mend. Then my vessel cracks again, then it mends again. Over and over. Efficiently, controlledly.
I breathe in. I breathe out. I swallow iron and I make the pain gentle on myself.
Slowly, I grow. Slowly, I improve. Kuro nestles against my leg, and I smile.
This, too, is doing myself a kindness.
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