Given how straightforward the dungeon was—the party stood in the middle of the theatre while waves of Wordless tried to gut them—Det didn’t expect the debrief to take long. Except, he hadn’t counted on Beauty questioning everything.

  Why did they fight in the middle where they could be attacked from all sides? Why did Sage use the buff ability when he did? Why did Eriba go for a big-ticket construct, instead of opting for smaller, more immediately useful inventions? Why didn’t Det bring out his scroll-renditions sooner? Why didn’t they strike for the Rare Spawn to make sure it was destroyed sooner?

  Then there were the questions about the Wordless. How fast were they? How many types of attacks did each one display? What was the minimum amount of damage that could be done to one to incapacitate or kill it? How would the cadets estimate the Wordless’ different stats, by Ranks? Were they E or D-Rank in strength and speed, for example? How many were there, total? Did they stop because the numbers ran out, or because the Boss was defeated.

  Honestly, Det—and the rest of his party—didn’t have answers to most of the questions, but they learned they should. Gathering that kind of information would become second nature after more training at the academy.

  From there, it really got into what worked and what didn’t. A lot of time was spent discussing Eriba’s minigun and how well it’d countered the dungeon. Both the smaller Wordless and the Boss. That led to discussions about each of the cadets’ successes and shortcomings in the battle.

  Tena had struggled with positioning and keeping herself—both of them—between the Wordless and the rest of the party. That struggle—and the constant repositioning at the last second—was why she’d suffered so many injuries that’d actually managed to bypass her armor. Fighting from better terrain, with less angles of attack, would’ve made a difference, but not enough in her eyes. She needed to be better.

  Calisco was perfect, of course. Except for the small part where she couldn’t use powerful explosions too close to her group. The shaped charge she’d used against the Rare Spawn at the beginning—her better fireball, so to speak—was too weak to use on the rushing waves. Still, since she hadn’t blown anybody on her side up, she took that as a win for herself.

  Eriba agreed with Beauty’s assessment that she could’ve started smaller, and made an impact earlier in the fight. She’s just been so focused on what was in her head—the image of the minigun—she’d thrown aside all other options. While it’d worked out this time, she needed to be more flexible in the future.

  Weiss brought up not being able to deal with the after-effects of Sage’s buff ability, as well as his placement relative to the rest of the team. He spent as much time running back and forth between people needing healing as he did actually healing.

  Sage talked about the trouble he had with the Wordless quickly identifying his pets, then curb-stomping then. Of course, there was the buff ability that had been very powerful. It was more the drawbacks to it that Beauty focused on, along with the question of whether Sage knew about using his magic that way before they’d entered the dungeon.

  “I didn’t,” Sage admitted. “It kind of came to me as I was controlling one of the pets. How I could use my kernels, even though I don’t have as many as Det does. For me, I guess I don’t need to touch my target to imbue them, but you all saw the cost of doing it. It literally stretched my channels across the room to connect with my pet.

  “The power-up was worth it, but it hurt,” Sage said.

  “It also began to degrade your channels within your body,” Weiss said. “Along with anything metaphysically touching them. It was turning you into Sage-shaped-soup. I would caution against using the ability.”

  “Or,” Sage countered. “We can test it back on Mount Avalon, with access to more Medics, so I can learn the limits of it. Did I hurt myself so badly because of the ability itself? Because of the range I used it at? Maybe because I used both kernels in one go?

  “You all saw how badly my pets were getting murdered,” Sage continued. “I need something like this to help even the odds.”

  “It is an excellent avenue to explore,” Beauty said. “Perhaps there is a happier middle ground between lower power and…” the instructor looked from Weiss to Sage. “And Sage-shaped-soup. Something with a longer duration and lower output, thus less strain on your body.”

  “With keeping this big power-up as a trump card,” Sage said. “Might need it against something like a Boss.”

  “Fair assessment,” Beauty said. “Pushing the limits of your abilities will be part of the upcoming lessons. To continue out debrief of the dungeon, however, Det, what could you have done better?”

  “A lot,” Det said. It was easy to look back and see where he’d gone wrong with things. “My firebombs basically went unused until the end, especially considering the Wordless were all coming out of specific doors. If I’d filled that space with fire, sooner, it would’ve weakened them all even before they got to us. Then there was how long I waited to really call on my renditions. I was up there fighting with a sword like an idiot most of the time.”

  “To… be fair,” Tena said, the hesitance clear in her voice. “If you didn’t move up there with me, the Wordless would’ve gotten past in that first rush. They’d have made it to Sage and Eriba. I couldn’t stop them all.”

  “And you were still covering for me, too,” Det said. “I saw how many hits you took putting your body between me and one of those clawed bastards trying to sneak in from my side. I thought your armor was taking all that punishment until Puncture got here…”

  “That’s what Bulwarks do,” Tena said, not even worried about how torn up she’d been. That was her job, and that was all there was to it.

  “I appreciate it,” Det said. “But, if I’d called my renditions out right from the beginning, it might not have got that bad. Though, that brings up another problem. None of my renditions—other than the snake I brought in with us—was big or strong enough to individually deal with the Wordless. It took multiple snakes or badgers to bring one down. Wasn’t even quickly.

  “I don’t know. I think I need bigger scrolls or something.”

  “Why?” Beauty asked.

  “Because… bigger scrolls would mean more surface area to paint? Like the deck of the ship, I could make larger renditions.”

  “Again, why?” Beauty said.

  “So they would be more powerful…?” Det said. Beauty was clearly getting at something, but what was it?

  Beauty just raised an eyebrow, waiting for Det to figure it out himself.

  What’s he thinking? This has always been the limiting factor of my magic. I need a bigger surface to make bigger renditions. Nothing’s changed.

  …

  That’s not true. Everything has changed. Kernels. If I can use them to increase things like durability or strength, who’s to say I can’t use them to influence size?

  Det slapped the palm of his hand into his forehead, and explained exactly that concept to the others.

  This time, Beauty nodded. “Exactly,” the instructor said. “It occurred to me after I’d gone into my own dungeon, and I felt the fool for not considering it sooner. We get so few ReSouled who use their magic in the way you do, sometimes we miss the obvious.”

  “You aren’t the only one,” Det said. “I got so stuck on ‘this is how I’ve always done it, so it must be the only way’, I didn’t even stop to consider something so… fundamental. I’ll have to try that later, when we get back to the academy.”

  “Excellent,” Beauty said. “Now, with that high-level review of the dungeon out of the way, let’s start digging into the weeds of things.”

  Which is exactly what the group did, reviewing every decision they’d made from entering to leaving the dungeon, and how things could’ve gone differently. For better or for worse. It was an interesting exercise considering the implications of how making a different decision could have impacted the outcomes.

  What if Eriba had made smaller weapons instead of the minigun. Beauty forced them to change that dynamic in their mind, then predict where things would’ve taken a different path. It wasn’t perfect, but Det was pretty sure the group would have had an easier time with the common Wordless, but a much tougher time with the Boss.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  They went through dozens of those kinds of scenarios until, several hours later, it was time to board the Skyshark and start the trip back to Mount Avalon. With how fast the mistship moved, they’d probably get back in the middle of the night, then be expected to get up at the crack of dawn to get to their classes.

  A smart person would be sleeping. Catching every second of shuteye they could.

  Pity Det wasn’t the smart type. Nope, he was sitting on the deck of the mistship, enjoying the feel of the midday suns on his skin while he played with his new Wordless toys. The urge to figure out what they did was more powerful than the thought of taking a nap. He’d get a few hours when he got back, and letting this mystery sit just wasn’t his thing.

  He also wasn’t the only one, with the other five suitemates scattered around the deck playing with their own new toys like it was Christmas morning. Thankfully, the crew of the Skyshark only contained those who knew the truth of the Wordless, so the ReSouled didn’t need to hide what they were doing.

  I guess there’s always something about seeing the sun after almost dying in a dungeon…

  Det’s musing didn’t last longer than that, all his attention on his two new items. The sword was easy enough to figure out. A press of the button turned it from a razor-sharp sword to a long paint brush. Loading the pommel with ink let the brush-form of the sword ink itself. Depending on how he used it, he could slash out broad strokes for larger images, or use it as a long brush for finer work.

  That latter option was a lot more difficult than it sounded, but it was something he could work on. The bigger question was whether or not that would be useful in the middle of a fight, or if this was just good for painting big pictures. Doing something like the serpent he’d done on the Skyshark’s deck before would be much easier with the sword.

  With the weapon mostly figure out, Det looked over at his other new addition, the scroll that had been hanging from his shoulder. It lay open on the deck beside him, an image of a certain kitten already painted and waiting. He hadn’t added the kernel necessary to transform the rendition from cute-kitten to calamity-kitten, but it still sat there, looking up at him. Waiting to be called on.

  Problem was, summoning his renditions destroyed his scrolls. Then again, the only reason he wasn’t sure that would happen in this case was the fact that when he painted on a wall—or a mistship’s deck—he didn’t destroy those surfaces. This scroll on the ground beside him was likely either a consumable item offering a powerful buff of some kind to whatever it summoned, or something reusable. If it was the first, calling the rendition now would be a waste. If it was the second, how useful would it be?

  Rolling the scroll back up mid-fight—or going back to where he’d tossed it—would be a pain in the ass.

  “Ah, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he finally mumbled, and slapped his hand down on the scroll. A surge of magical energy—no kernels—and two seconds later, the kitten crawled off the paper at the same time the whole scroll dissolved in a pan-flash of burning embers.

  “That sucks,” Det told the kitten standing where his Wordless gear had been. “I guess it was a consumable after…” he trailed off, new burning embers appearing out of nowhere next to his left arm. Within seconds, the scroll reformed itself from the chord he’d hooked onto his old scroll holster.

  “That sucks significantly less,” Det amended, reaching up to pop the scroll off the chord again, while the kitten hopped up on his lap, curious at what was happening. Det’s thumb popped the seal on the white scroll, and he pulled out the page rolled within.

  Blank.

  The kitten rendition was gone, which only made sense, sine it was standing on his thigh, one paw swinging at the bottom of the scroll.

  The scroll itself is reusable, though it consumes the image painted on it. After a few seconds, that had to be at least ten, it reappears on the end of the chord. I guess as long as I don’t lose the chord, the scroll will come back every time?

  Damn, that’s pretty useful. Especially for things like chain dungeons or something long. Gives me a bit more of an inventory, though it’s very not overpowered.

  “You look like you figured something out,” Sage said, pulling Det out of his thoughts as the man sat down beside him.

  “Yeah,” Det said, then explained what he’d figured out about his two items. “Neither is really powerful, but they’re definitely useful.”

  “They’re just E-Rank gear,” Sage said. “Don’t expect them to wildly change things. They’re barely more than mundane items at this point. D-Rank will be a small step up, but it’s C-Rank and above where we’ll really see Wordless items making a difference. Where they’ll seem like real magic.”

  “Something to look forward to,” Det said. “How about you? Figure out what your stuff does?”

  “I did,” Sage said, then tapped the collar around his neck. “This administers some kind of healing injection. Stings a bit, but spreads fast through my body. I don’t think it’s going to stave off death or anything fancy like that…”

  “But it will help keep you from turning into soup if you use your buff ability,” Det guessed.

  “That’s what I figure,” Sage said. “As much as I like eating soup, I don’t really fancy turning into it.”

  “Who does?” Det asked, and the pair shared a chuckle. “What about the foot-ball helmet?”

  At that, Sage groaned and rolled his eyes. “It does look like a sideways football, doesn’t it?”

  “I thought it was kind of round the first time I saw it, the way it was tucked under your arm. Not so much now that I get a good look at it.”

  “It’s worse when I put it on,” Sage said.

  “Is it worth wearing?” Det said.

  “Unfortunately, it is,” Sage said. “It’s like a radio amplifier, but for my pets. Should let me control them better, and maybe even improve their specs while under my control.”

  “So…” Det said. “You are controlling them with the power of your mind.”

  “Oh shut up,” Sage laughed.

  “Bet you get a wheelchair from our next dungeon.”

  “I better-friggin-not,” Sage said immediately. “Pretty sure that’s copyrighted or something.”

  “Who’s going to come to Elestar to enforce it?”

  “Don’t mess with the mouse.”

  “Fair. How about the others, you know if they figured their stuff out?”

  “Why don’t we ask them?” Sage said. His next words came out much louder, able to be heard over the quiet hum of the msitship speeding through the sky. “How’s everybody doing? You know what your gear does?”

  “I can hear real good!” Calisco said. She was sitting beside Tena, and the two women were talking more to each other than looking at their equipment.

  “We know…” Sage said. “Your gloves?”

  “Oh, these?” Calisco said. “They do something related to sound too. Send out some kind of pulse ahead of my explosions. Softens targets up before… BOOM!”

  “How did you even figure that out?” Det said.

  Calisco pointed to a small pile of broken crystal beside Tena. Was that a pair of small… legs? Tena must’ve made crystal dolls of some kind to act as targets.

  “It’s not a massive change,” Tena said. “Five or ten percent more effective.”

  “Which is still five or ten percent more explodey,” Calisco said.

  “How about you, Tena?” Sage said. Calisco was pretty one-track, so any more questions would just lead to explosions of one kind or another.

  Tena held up both of her Wordless-vambrace-enclosed hands. “Opposite of Cali’s gloves. They make my crystal stronger. Left one makes my shield tougher. Right one makes my spear stabbier.”

  “Do they actually do something different?” Weiss said, wandering closer to Det and Sage while asking Tena the question.

  “Slightly,” Tena said. “The left one makes my shield heavier and denser, I think. The right one feels like there is more precision to it. The spear is pointier, but I don’t think it will do any better than before if I try to parry something with it. Works for the knife I tried too.”

  “Does it do anything for your armor?” Det said.

  “I wish,” Tena said. “Only for things coming from my hands.”

  “Still, not bad,” Sage said. “You’re always using your shield and some kind of weapon, so you’ll get a lot of use out of them.”

  “You better believe I will,” Tena said.

  “We totally have to test your new shield against my new explosions when we get back,” Calisco said, more than a little excitement in her voice.

  That same excitement wasn’t present on Tena’s face.

  “Let’s… uh… see how the week goes,” Tena said.

  “Okay!” Calisco said, bubbly as ever.

  “Weiss?” Det said. “The whip, man, I’ve got to ask…”

  Red immediately rushed up the Medic’s neck and into his face. “The whip… it lets me heal from a longer range. I need to touch my target for my magic to work. This extends that.”

  “You’ve got to whip us to heal us?” Sage said.

  “It’s a good pain?” Weiss offered with a shrug that said ‘I have no F’ing clue, man’.

  That got a good laugh out of everybody, and they moved on to his second item after some additional, minor jibes. The epaulet on his shoulder was pretty straightforward. It provided him a light source he could use for his magic. One that actually regenerated. So, even if he used all the light from it to fuel his healing, it would return over time. It wasn’t fast, but it was something. Much better than a lot of other options, like permanently killing the light from a torch.

  “That just leaves you, Eriba,” Sage said. “You’ve obviously got some kind of tool belt. And, a toolbox?”

  “Only the belt has tools,” Eriba said quietly, hair back to hanging in front of her face. “Made to help me tinker with Wordless. Will be faster.”

  “Makes sense,” Sage said, nodding. “But, if the backpack-box isn’t a toolbox, what is it?”

  Instead of answering, Eriba slipped the pack off her back, set it down on the deck, then opened it up. The pistol she’d built in the dungeon sat inside.

  “Isn’t that…?” Tena started, and Eriba was already nodding.

  “This pack let’s me bring things I build inside of the dungeon, out. Keeps them powered, and stops them from breaking down. I can only pull an item out for an hour at a time—max—before it needs to go back in. Any longer, and I think it’ll be destroyed. The hour is only a guess by how I watched the gun degrading.”

  “Can you keep more than one thing in the pack?” Det said.

  “If they both fit, I think so?” Eriba said. “Only one thing to test with right now.”

  “We’ll have to check after we clear the dungeon the next time,” Det said. “That could be really useful. Let’s you start off a fight with something in hand, instead of waiting for us to bring down a Wordless for you to pull apart.”

  “I’ll be more useful,” Eriba said, a confident nod bobbing her hair up and down.

  “We’ll all be,” Det said. A lot had happened since Det left Radiant the first time, even though it’d only been a few weeks. He’d witnessed firsthand how a pillar could be wiped out without anybody noticing until it was too late, saved the last three survivors, and then found out it was all just a small part of a secret threat hidden from the public’s eyes. From there, he’d started a new school, gotten cheap-shotted by one of his new roommates, been shown what overwhelming power looked like, then nearly murdered for a week straight. Good times, that. After surviving all that—and having the best sandwiches of his life in there—he started learning more about his magic, and even made some substantial development in it, feeling for the first time in years he was making progress.

  Getting sent off to another dungeon to continue pushing himself—and his group—had just seemed like another training exercise, until word of the danger on Radiant reached them. They’d been thrown in over the heads, and come out on top. It hadn’t been perfect or pretty, but it also hadn’t been by the skin of their teeth.

  Det had gotten stronger. He would continue to get stronger.

  “The next dungeon won’t know what hit it.”