She slid down a hallway accented with black and white tiling; if she wasn't in such a hurry, she might comment on how brightly it shone and felt. Past a cork and pin bulletin board plastered with papers and announcements, taking a right past a startled girl covered in feathers, more humanoid looking than Kasfew, and a few feathers floated in the air.
She always wondered how birds molted on demand.
She followed a trail of smoke to an open office, where she heard someone coughing and cursing inside, and a male voice.
Neska shoved past the threshold, a mana bolt armed in her hand, and surveyed the scene. “Is everyone okay?” she shouted out.
It took one look for her to realize the situation was alright, and she quickly dissipated her mana bolt, having too hastily assumed the academy was under attack.
It was more accurate to say the room might be under attack from bad safety practices. Professor Serkin was busily beating a smoldering fire that had ignited at an alchemical station. When that didn’t work, he grabbed a metal canister off the wall with a rubber tube attached and squeezed a small handle. The tube began spraying a blue-white foam that smothered the flames and coated everything in the foam.
Juni came to a halt beside Neska, coughing on the smoke. “Gods, what happened here? Are you alright, professor?”
The professor’s uniform was covered in soot, and his pointy hat had a tiny ember of flame burning on the brim. He let out a cough and tried to ward off the fumes with his hand. “Yes, yes, I’m alright. Confounded mixture didn’t like being mixed in that way.”
He gestured to a scorched metal mixing pan and the foam pile sitting on top of it, currently dissolving into an off-color blue fluid. “Apologies, the energy discharge from that sort of ran away. Need to order another set of glass windows.”
“Damn it, Serkin! If I add another tally of ‘broken windows’ to the collateral damages board, I am rescinding your tenure!” someone screamed from down the hall. Resalio skidded into the room, presumably drawn by the loud noise. She bumped into Neska in her haste, threatening to topple until she put her tail in the way to steady her.
Resalio looked quite relieved. “Oh, hello, dear. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”
“Didn’t think I'd face competition for causing massive explosions either,” she replied.
Resalio wheezed out a laugh despite the smoke, then pointed to Serkin. “Why, in all that is holy on Galwein, are you still working on this damn thing?!” she shouted.
“Stress relief and research, Headmistress.” Neska would have cracked a smile at how deadpan he sounded, despite coughing on the slowly thinning smoke.
Now that she'd had a chance to look, she saw the office was not entirely an office–it had a desk, a few seating chairs, and most of the room was occupied by a small arcanist laboratory, including the previously burning mixing station. A small collection of alchemical products lined a nearby case recessed into the wall.
Centered in the room was what appeared to be a construct, composed of metal cladding in the rough shape of a humanoid. It had two arms, two legs, and thin strands of metal from the exposed open shell spread outward; the chest region was split in half like a clam on the central, roughly barrel-sized portion. It looked like a mess of arcane technology, and Neska noted that, based on its composition of custom-welded and bolted hardware, it was a prototype of some kind.
Serkin waved toward the construct, eyes still watering from the remnant smoke. “That thing is the next response to the monster incursion, Headmistress. I just happened to overcompensate on a power source, and there was a thermal runaway event.”
“It caught fire,” Neska simplified, much to his annoyance. “Perhaps you should use a power source that does not catch on fire so readily?”
“All the good ones catch fire,” he grumbled, and tried to wipe the soot from his face. He was lucky he didn’t suffer more than indignity, in this instance. “Apologies for the issue, please inform the students that there was nothing more than a magical mishap which was louder than it was dangerous.”
Resalio jabbed her hand in the direction of the broken windows. “Get those fixed immediately, go have Resnick fire up his glass-making kiln. You’ll let in the summer bugs,” she fumed. “Cassia, sorry for this unpleasantness.”
“It's fine. We were stopping in for a more formal sit-down.” Neska finally coughed on the fumes from the extinguished fire, but only a little. Maybe her resistance to toxins also included smoke? She didn’t feel like testing the limits of that resistance by deliberately inhaling toxic fumes. Though the thought left her with a theory to test: would exposing herself to dangerous substances build her resistance?
Do you really want to test that one?
That's already included in my near-future plans to imbibe various alchemical substances to see if my [Venom Imbuement] will provide variable effects. Maybe I'll get a two-for-one bonus out of it.
If you're going to commit to such a dangerous procedure, make sure to look up the dosages and exposure levels that risk fatality. Oh, wait, you've already planned for that.
After Resalio stomped off, Professor Serkin let out a groan. “Why doesn't she get it? We have enough problems with the Varadur, we need more solutions!”
“By setting things on fire?” Juni waved a paw at the room. “I should probably dial back my expectations, professor. By the sound of it, I should evolve some fire-resistant traits in the near future.”
He scowled at her proposal. “This was a minor setback, nothing more. At any rate, good to have you here. Let's, um…move this to my office down the hall.”
A change of venue away from that scent in the air was a welcome reprieve. The door to Serkin’s office was underwhelming: plain wood and frosted glass. A tarnished metal plaque screwed into the frame had his name stenciled.
Opening the door, they were greeted by dark brickwork walls and sparse decor, and a large open layout. The desk near one side had seen better days, stacked with paperwork. The paper looked high-quality, a step above the simple parchment paper commonly traded throughout the area. A mostly full bottle smelling of an aged berry wine sat on the desk in one corner. He quickly corked it and stuffed it in his drawer before Neska could inquire.
He sat down at his desk chair that had seen far too much service. The green padding had frayed and been patched with crude stitching more than once. Every motion of his body drew a protesting squeak of wood.
Were his eyes bloodshot before, or after his fiery mishap? She decided this was one inquiry that she could let slide. “Professor Serkin. I’m glad we were able to meet.”
“Same. Apologies for the state of the lab and the office. It's been…an interesting few days,” he said softly, sagging in his chair more than the upholstery. “Syra, you don’t need to…”
“I know enough, Professor. Enough to realize what they’ve been through.” Neska noted her body had taken on a normal appearance, though her brown hair still appeared glistening wet–it must be an elementa trait.
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“Aye. Fair enough. I did have a few questions, Cassia. If you’d enlighten me.”
She folded her arms and took a relaxed coil with her lower body. “I’m listening.”
He flipped open a notebook. “It's concerning your evolutions and powers. Syra, you understand she can emulate some witch powers with her particular lamia subtype?”
“Emulate? Hell, throw a witch hat on her, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” The elementa practically flowed into her seat, leaning on one armrest with a sly smile. “Pretty weird no one’s ever heard of such a thing.”
“New Varadur show up all the time.” He clicked a mechanical pen in place. “Cassia, can you describe any unusual powers or abilities you were able to examine in detail when you were picking new ones? I’m looking for patterns of evolution beyond what we know.”
What followed was a thirty-minute questionnaire that Serkin must have spent considerable time creating. She answered truthfully where she could, especially with the standard powers that most monsters seemed to pick through, such as sharper claws, teeth, tougher scales or shells, and other basic features. As far as she knew, those choices seemed poor investments of Essence Points, given her more unique offerings.
Ultimately, she ran through her evolutionary upgrades, and he continued writing detailed notes. He wrote quickly, but his penmanship was legible.
The bigger question was her available snake and lamia-specific evolutions. She mentioned the [Dimensional Stomach] upgrade, which left Syra positively nauseated, and Serkin leaned in, looking astonished. “An inventory space? On an Awakened?”
“A…what now?”
“Some classes get an inventory that goes beyond three-dimensional space. One can store items, equipment, tools, materials, and so on with relative safety and no encumbrance. These items are typically only accessible to them, and with restrictions or certain perks depending on a class. Battle surgeons, healers, and other similar classes will be able to store certain alchemical or medical items with short shelf life indefinitely, but the Interface usually has to recognize them. An interface-driven inventory for a monster species is...well, I'm not sure I know of any with this kind of ability.”
“She has to eat the item,” Juni snapped. “How is this even remotely helpful?”
“I can swallow things larger than a normal human could,” Neska shrugged. Juni looked aghast at her, still thinking of pursuing this idea. “So this item is preserved, professor?”
“With other inventory powers I’ve heard of? Yes. I don’t know if anyone has attempted to store a living organism, however. Or if attempts have been successful. To my knowledge, at any rate.”
Syra glanced at Neska, then Juni. An evil smile creased her face. “Well, if the mouse disappears, I think I’ll have a pretty good idea where she ended up. That would be both the greatest and most horrifying party trick anyone ever pulled off.”
Everyone turned to stare at her, and even Neska cringed. “Ew. That is a boundary no one should ever cross,” she said, a rolling hiss running across her words.
“Thank the gods I wouldn’t fit, anyway,” Juni exhaled.
In hindsight, when Neska opened her jaw wide and tried to map out exactly how far she could stretch it with her hands, it might have been a bad idea. Juni shied away, wearing a horror-stricken smile. “Has anyone mentioned you are a rope-shaped terror?”
“Moving on to other fascinating subjects,” Serkin interjected. He scribbled his pen and was likely pretending his students had not, in fact, proposed one of them swallow the other in a test of a theoretical power that was still a ‘maybe’ in Neska’s books. “Are there other powers that seem unusual?”
“She shoots bolts of venom that look weirdly like a mana bolt,” Syra interjected, still wearing a smug look after instigating possibly the most awkward moment for Neska to date. “I saw that with Corvin’s testing today. Oh, and the roots, but I knew about that one. Basket weaving, really?”
“It…sounded like a fun activity,” she shrugged. The switch of topics brought a relieved look to Juni’s face shortly thereafter. “Plus a healing venom.”
Serkin fumbled with his pen. “Say that again?”
“Love bites,” Juni explained, wearing a leering grin at Neska.
“We agreed we weren’t calling it that,” she hissed. She continued by describing a few other powers related to alchemy and rituals that seemed fairly basic, such as detecting alchemical materials by taste or smell, or etching runes with greater precision. At this Tier, she imagined they might be only serving as a base to greater powers down the line–even so, these upgrades could be immensely potent if used properly.
She gave details about her specializations, except for the one she wanted no one to know about. [Ritual Infusion] would hopefully never become a power she’d actively want.
After Serkin exhausted his questions, he stood up and flipped his notebook shut. “Cassia, thank you for your time. As always, I do hope this will help me map something I’ve been studying.”
“Which is?”
“I think the Varadur are changing. Not just in the way you think, though.”
She rubbed at her snout thoughtfully. “But, in what other way are they changing?”
“The evolution of not just the body…but the soul.” The words sent a slight chill down Neska’s tail. Serkin rubbed at his chin, where two-day stubble had formed. “Ah, but this is just your first day. Plenty of time to let knowledge soak in. We’ve held the Varadur off for twenty years. We’ve adapted to them. We’ll beat them someday. Cassia, Juni, mind if I see you sometime next week?”
“Of course. It might be a while before we get more levels. Training here won’t have as substantial an impact as in real pressure,” Neska uncoiled and was circling to leave, just as Juni and Syra headed out.
“Cassia? Do you mind staying here for a bit longer? I was hoping to speak to you in private.”
Juni narrowed her mousy eyes. “Why should we–”
“Juni? I’ll be alright. Just for a minute.” Neska used a calm tone to convince Juni, who had been getting agitated a bit more than usual for the day.
She twisted her snout before sighing, then waving to Syra. “We'll be nearby. Syra, got anything interesting to look at in this building?”
“Well, there’s a lab for alchemical ingredient sorting. Some of it is for field expeditions to catalog and tag new mon–sorry, Varadur specimens for further strategies to counter them.”
"Splendid. Take me there. We’ll take a quick tour.” Soon, Neska heard the click of the door behind her, with just the two of them in the room.
The professor rubbed his hand through his messy hair, still carrying soot. “Neska…I have to ask, only because I didn’t have time or privacy to do so before. How are you holding up through all this?"
"Better than I have a right to. But I have promises to keep...and...friends to look after, now." She hoped that the word would become less foreign and more common for her.
"Aye. You sound like you've been through a lot. But still going, despite it all. I have a bit more of a personal question: How was Risha doing during the last year?”
She hesitated. Did she want to tell him about her obsessions with the rituals to divine information about the Varadur, and the interface, rituals Neska didn’t understand either?
Or something more neutral: the potion work that she did for free for the villagers?
Or…when Risha cried when no one was looking, the only sign that she carried deep, deep burdens that only now, she began to comprehend?
“She never stopped fighting for humanity. Or for me. Not for one second.” It was one small weight she could get off her soul. “You knew her well, didn’t you?”
“Aside from Harvine? Yes. Resalio knew of her, too, but she came later, about fifteen years ago.” Tired eyes gazed at her from across the desk, baggy eyelids, and hair that showed streaks of silver she swore hadn’t been there only a few days ago. He kept glancing at the desk drawer he’d hastily slammed shut on their arrival. Then, back to her.
“For one second…when you first arrived, and you spoke…I thought you were her. By some unfathomable power or work of ingenuity, I thought Risha had put her soul into the body of a lamia.” He gazed down at his desk, looking at a photo with its backing facing her direction.
“Why?”
“You sound like her. Not just with the voice, but the way you talk. Inquisitive, bold…sometimes slightly awkward.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. Or, was it a mask for the undertow of sadness in his posture?
“She had a voice that you just…you wanted to listen to. She had confidence in her work. Even with uncountable unknowns, her theories were often correct.” Neska recounted all those times as she wrote in her journals, voice softly murmuring as her research was recorded. “But, I have to ask, Professor Serkin. Who was she…to you?”
“A good friend. Not just a colleague.” He slowly spun the picture frame around, showing her and four others. They were dressed in casual wear, standing in front of a brick storefront, bright lights shining from inside. The faded photograph showed Harvine, Serkin with shorter hair, Risha without her hat, and two other people she didn't recognize. Plus, what appeared to be–
He spun it back slowly, fingers lingering in the frame. “A woman whose labors hopefully will end this battle with the Varadur. Someday.”
He rose from his desk and walked to a small closet. He gestured to the small wooden door. “She left a few things in my care. Mostly papers, documents, and some thoughts on research before she went quiet. But…”
He opened the closet door, filled with shelving overburdened with lab equipment, research journals neatly ordered and lined up, and various magical baubles. He reached for a plain brown chest on the floor and flipped the dark metal clasps that kept it closed. He opened it after a moment of contemplating the motion with his hand resting on the lid.
“Did she give any indication of her plans? About researching the interface? Whether she thought she was being pursued?”
He gently shook his head, his back to her. “Risha kept the magic close to the chest. It was a frustration on repeat. I don't know why she never opened up fully…except for one last thing, before she left.”
He reached into the chest, then turned to face her, eyes sullen. “She left one other item. She did not explain it. She only told me, ‘You will know who to give this to when the time comes.’ True to her words, it has sat in the chest since then, almost three years ago. Until today.”
Held in his hands was a wide-brimmed hat with a conical top, colored in a bright green material. The brim was adorned with white fabric strips and small blue runes stitched into it in an intricate embroidery. She felt a tingle of power on her snout and knew instinctively what it was.
A witch hat. Hers.
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