Jackal Among Snakes

Saving the world was just as arrogant a thing as trying to dominate or destroy it. Each of the three carried with it an implication; that one’s personal power was superior to that of the world. It implied that the world could be changed in such a way. It was easy enough to claim that Argrave had set upon this road for the purpose of saving his own life, but time and time again he’d proven that there was more to it than that. He did want to help people. And the worst part? He’d succeeded.

Argrave’s stream of successes was like a black cloud obscuring true progress. But what is teaching, if not sparing someone the arduous process of trial-and-error? And that was what Castro had given Argrave; a route to see what he lacked without the biting fangs of failure. And with his guidance, brief though it might’ve been… the road ahead was clear.

With a light shining ahead, and with the Alchemist taking ample time examining Felipe’s skeleton, Argrave crafted a way of combat that truly suited him in the coming war.

[Bloodfeud Bow] was a spell Argrave had relied upon for its extreme destructive power, but multiple times its lack of versatility had caused tight situations—Castro’s mock battle illustrated its weakness. Against foes that were fast, smart, and decisive, if it missed, there was little else to be done.

And so Argrave took a segment from another of his spells: [Electric Eel].

It came to be that Argrave could change the direction of the blood arrows midflight. Unlike the eels, these arrows simply moved too fast to be controlled for very long, but if he had been able to change the way the arrow flew during the battle with Castro? The man might be well and truly dead.

He practiced this feat, firing an arrow skyward from one of his echoes. It soared upwards, seeking to pierce the clouds like a rocket, but with will alone Argrave brought it back and struck a mountaintop. It left a great crater, sending rocks tumbling down. He took a deep breath of emboldened pleasure as rocks tumbled down cliffside.

It was such a small lesson, but it felt like the entire world opened up before Argrave.

Rather than merely eels of electricity swirling about, Argrave sought more. After considerable trial and error, he isolated the segment of the spell that allowed a projectile to be persistent, and with his knowledge of controlling the projectile by will. From there, the possibilities expanded quick enough he nearly lost track of them.

Blades of wind soared throughout the air, a veritable tornado of harm that never lost its edge. Balls of fire, poised to explode outwards, danced near him as if it were a minefield preventing any from coming near with threat of death. He created an ever-expanding stream of water that obeyed his whims until it was near as large and flexible as Vasquer herself.

The computations were so infinite he forgot them nearly as soon as he created them. It took hours to develop some of these spells, fiddling until things were just right… certainly, his retinue of spells didn’t expand dramatically. The human mind could only remember so many things at once. The point was not the spells themselves; it was the understanding.

Each time he substituted one element for another, altered druidic magic to order his Brumesingers in a different way, or added some element to a spell he already understood, his knowledge of spell structure deepened. It was unacademic, unsophisticated, and probably downright inefficient… but then, he’d taken much the same approach delving into Heroes of Berendar.

Argrave—no, he was Vincenzo, then—played the game with its fast and hard rules. He experimented, trying different permutations of different characters with slight variables tweaked. He did it for thousands of hours, erratically and randomly, and by the end of it he knew enough to fill thousands of pages. There was no structure to it, no reason—he did it for fun alone, and that was why it had worked out. Now, that same thing repeated itself on a different medium. Instead of playing a character a different way, he cast a spell a different way.

And damn if it wasn’t fun.

Along the way of this joyride of possibilities, patterns made themselves clear. Things that were subtle became obvious. Construction that was once arcane, where he had followed along as a builder alone, became less incomprehensible. He started to understand why things were the way they were, rather than mutely obeying what had been written down in books.

his journey, he had written a thesis about [Blood Infusion], which was the process of imbuing blood magic into all spells. Back then, all he’d managed was rote plagiarism of lore. He found it rather fitting, then, that the end of his days as a rote spellcaster died

the Gray Owl spells, it made no difference. He delved into each with fury, deconstructing them, scrutinizing them, rebuilding them, reusing them. He created blades of blood, walls of it, burning through his very

anchoring them and allowing them to be circuits with which he could cast A-rank spells. Even the bronze hand mirror

[Magic Ascension: Blood Echoes] [Blessing of

(A)], [Blood Magic (A)], [Healing Magic (B)], [Illusion Magic (B)], [Warding Magic (A)], [Druidic Magic (A)], [Shamanic Magic (A)],

He couldn’t claim to know why it was that blood was such a potent force, nor what made it keep his form. These were questions beyond his limits and his patience. Just as some people datamined Heroes of Berendar, others simply played the game and experimented. But both found out how

observation, Argrave came to understand how the spells drew blood from the body. He understood why it was this silver bracer on his arm could draw magic from him, preserving it in

nothing more than a simple line. Some

of the way that blood

the blood from his body as its heat buffeted his face. The flame

Anneliese said in

her, saying nothing, but the smile on his face spoke volumes. He rose to his feet, stepping away from everyone else to get some safe distance. Then, another matrix took

could feel a subtle hum of power about it. It was stronger, more intense. His joy was such that the pain to create it was entirely forgotten.

and up the eels went, Anneliese sanding by his side in mute shock. Before long they seemed like maroon stars in the sky, obeying his will absolutely. He had spent so much time on this…

it,” Argrave said, without pride. There was joy, certainly, but

He could tell she was proud for him, and that was far better

he said, “I’ve got no more plans, Anne. No more spectacular insight from

her next words, ready to take comfort in them.

break the silence,” came

abruptly to see the Alchemist standing there, lit from

arms, which each held books. His fingers had eyes on the top of them,

Argrave pressed, shifting gears

have different origins,” the Alchemist said plainly, shutting twelve books at once with a loud pop. “I have two hypotheses. The first is that this calamitous energy, for lack of a better term, coalesces over the span of a millennium, hence the

memory,”

Gerechtigkeit never fully appears in this world. That he belongs to

seemed different. She suggested slowly, “Mozzahr’s ability… supposing the first hypothesis

Alchemist focused back on them. “We