Two instincts immediately came over Barry. The overwhelming urge to run. But stronger, was the adrenaline in his blood screaming at him to help.

  Giving into the second voice in his head, Barry sprinted as fast as he could towards the now unconscious woman.

  Blood blood blood. There’s so much fucking blood. Pressure. Pressure on the hole. Make it better. You can make the hole better. Fuck what do they do in movies? Fire. Hole. Close hole.

  Acting on pure instinct, Barry placed his hand on the wound, pressed his hand as hard as he could, and channeled the magic he had grown so used to relying on.

  Close. Close hole. Hole is through a person. Close it with the surrounding person. Store person in person.

  With the main framework of Barry’s magic relying on spatial magic, the man’s brain fired on all cylinders, developing a new spatial magic spell on the fly. Designating the space currently not filled with flesh as a storage area, he then filled said storage area with the closest available flesh. In a brilliant flash of pain, the hole in the woman was filled with a writhing mass of red muscle.

  Holy fuck, I did it. The hole is gone. I’m a fucking genius! That hurts so fucking bad! Why did it hurt?

  Scooping and lifting the still unconscious woman into his arms, Barry’s eyes flew in all directions. It had been a mere thirty seconds since the entire encounter started, and just now he was realizing that he had never placed eyes on the woman’s attackers.

  Ignoring the obvious dangers and thanking every lucky star in the sky that no one had bore witness to any of the insanity that he just partook in, Barry elected to run.

  Heaving to his feet, still carrying the surprisingly heavy woman, Barry ran as fast as his barely trained body would carry him. Which turned into a light jog at the effort level of a marathon.

  By a lucky fluke known only to the very brave and very stupid, Barry flawless entered his apartment, dripping in sweat and unceremoniously dropping the still shallowly breathing woman onto his couch.

  The woman looked gaunt, with a sunken pale face, slightly smeared makeup, and eyes that had bags that put Barry’s to shame. Upon closer, and first real inspection, it was obvious to any onlooker that this woman was rich.

  She was adorned in gold, but not in the tacky sense of a person that put on whatever they had at the time. No, this woman had a set of gold earrings, draped with peacock feathers, four identical golden banded rings, and a ring on her right index finger that bore a perfectly cut ruby.

  Her outfit was equally well placed, a deep crimson suit accented with a pale rose interior, and an intricate pattern woven into the obviously tailored suit. However, the small burns alongside the front, sides, and most concentrated in the forearms told a different story.

  Taking a seat on the floor next to the couch, Barry examined the suit more closely.

  It’s enchanted. Woven all up and down. Those burns must be from that same purple magic that eventually put the hole in her chest. What the fuck have I gotten myself into now?

  Barry examined the wound he had ‘fixed’ on her chest, and realized something equally important.

  The hole. Well, what was a hole before I stuffed it. It’s where the heart would be, but on the wrong side. It’s like they were aiming for her heart but fucked it up.

  Thankfully, a quick examination told Barry that, while still raw and healing, the hole patch job had stuck.

  Stalking into his bathroom, Barry gave himself a once over. His hands up to his forearms were covered in blood, and there was a dull throbbing pain in his head and arm. Taking off his shirt, the source of the pain was obvious. There was a chunk of his left arm, simply, missing.

  I guess that’s where the flesh came from. I should have specified her body, or wounded body. Instead, the spell just latched onto the first thing that worked. Stupid untested magic.

  Taking off the rest of his clothes, Barry stepped into the hot shower. Flicking his wrist, Barry stored all of the foreign blood on his arms in his personal storage, then immediately retrieved it, watching as the large glob of blood appeared before him before unceremoniously dropping into the running water and drain below him. Scrub daddy eat your heart out.

  After a fifteen minute shower where Barry thought about every single thing that had happened in this insane night, one thought continued to ping around in his forehead.

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  Why didn’t I call the cops? Why don’t I still call the cops? What the fuck am I doing, this could be like a magic murderer laying on my couch right now. I get the adrenaline in the moment but right now? I may be stupid.

  Stepping out of the hot shower and summoning a pair of comfortable underwear, sweatpants, and a nice shirt from his storage vault, Barry got dressed quickly and walked back into his apartment.

  Only to find the subject of his very line of questioning standing in the middle of the room, looking very on fierce mind you, in fact pointing a pistol of some sort directly at him.

  Why didn’t I search them? What the hell is wrong with me?

  “You. Who are you? Where am I? Why did you help me, why didn’t you call the cops, and why didn’t you take my gun?” The woman, speaking in a slight Italian accent, asked a series of extremely valid questions.

  “You know, outside of a few of those, I was actually wondering the same thing.” Barry said, not bothering to put his hands up and instead making a show of summoning his mug of coffee to his hand. Well, his empty mug, but the effect was hopefully the same.

  Confronted with crazy? Be crazier. This mob woman could have killed me already, might as well try and live.

  “Stop playing coy. I can see the chunk of your arm missing and my chest hurts. You didn’t strip or search me, only healed me with a spell foundation I can’t place. You’re not with the Crowns, or I’d be dead. You’re not one of mine, or I’d be at a safe house. Now answer the fucking question.” She said, the gun snapping in the direction of Barry’s head.

  “My name is Bartholomew, you’re in my apartment. Not a clue who you are. Yeah, I healed you, so a thank you would be appreciated. Now put the gun down, not entirely sure what it is but we both know you’ve got no mana left. Otherwise the enchantments on your suit wouldn’t have failed, and you’d be threatening me with a lot more oomph.” Taking a small sip of nothing, he threw the mug in the air and made it disappear.

  Taking his bluff like a champ, the woman returned the weapon to a section in her damaged suit, and Barry let out the loudest mental sigh he’d ever imagined. He was going to live to see tomorrow.

  “Well, Bartholomew, you are correct. I am in your debt. Name the price for your help and silence.” The woman said, instantly switching from ‘scary mob gangster’ to ‘calm negotiator’ as if she didn’t just threaten to kill Barry.

  “Your name and some info about you would help on that one.” Barry said, taking the initiative and, in a show of the most fake confidence he’s ever had, sitting on his couch.

  “My name is Vanessa Delrose. I am a fifth rank blood mage. That’s all you need to know.” The woman, Vanessa to finally put a name to a face, said as she took the seat opposite Barry, a leather recliner that had never gotten much love before.

  Fifth rank? Blood mage? Blood magic is like really really illegal and she just admitted to specializing in it. What the fuck do I say now? “Hey I’m Barry and I’m a second rank spatial mage.”

  “How did a fifth rank, let alone a blood mage, get into such a state?” He said, sitting back slightly deeper into the couch, buying as much time as possible.

  “Ambush. I can manifest my rings if you don’t think I’m actually a fifth rank, but I hope that won’t be necessary. As you’ve correctly identified, I’ve got nearly no mana. You’re obviously a spatial mage, why warp me here and heal me and not just teleport to a hospital?” Vanessa asked, leaning forward in an attempt to gain momentum in the conversation.

  Cause I can’t warp anyone anywhere! I’m a fucking second rank!

  “Is it important? It’s the same reason I haven’t called the cops. It’s obvious that you’re not the apple of the laws eye here.” Is what Barry ended up actually saying. “I want power. I need to expand my mana network.”

  “Come on, even the best scientist on the continent can’t make a gem that helps people beyond the fourth rank. I got to where I am with study and intense work. Be reasonable.” Vanessa said, scoffing slightly. Yet as the words left her mouth, a flash of inspiration could be seen sparking in her eyes. “But power? I’ll give you a framework book on shadow magic. It’ll compliment your spatial magic and could help refine you to the next rank.”

  Holy shit. They’re like, actually an evil sorceress. Like a real bonafide fucking underworld dealer! I need this banned magic, but I cannot pass up this contact. This is it. This is my way back! I can be a genius again!

  “That does sound interesting. But a framework for a life debt? I tell you what. Give me the book, and a couple weeks to stew on it. By the time we talk again, I’ll have a satisfactory answer for you.” Barry said, sitting up and sticking out his hand for a handshake.

  “You’re an interesting man, Bartholomew. Fine. I’ll be sleeping here tonight, but when I leave I’ll leave a method to contact me and the guide on shadow magic.” Vanessa said, shaking Barry’s hand.

  Getting up from the couch, Barry confidently walked towards his bedroom. Immediately after shutting the door behind him, the stress of the negotiation and night instantly fell out of his shoulders, and Barry collapsed with his back against the door.

  What the fuck am I doing? Am I mentally unwell? Secret deals with a fucking evil mob boss? With a rank five illegal blood mage?! What the actual fuck was I thinking! I got so swept up in the moment I completely lost the plot there. That could have been my ticket to a free advancement to rank three, but instead I got some weird esoteric banned shadow magic book and a criminal contact that I have to give an answer to in a few weeks! All I’ve done is hang a sword of Damocles above my bed for no reason! For what?! Some silly childhood dream of adventure, and the mental image of getting to be special again. Stupid stupid stupid stupid!

  Thankfully for Barry, that thought spiral was soon cut off by the allure of deep sleep. No dreams came from the young magic enthusiast, instead, the only thing that arrived was the rude descent of the sun beaming directly into his eyeballs in the morning.

  At some point he must have dragged himself into bed, and as he peeled off the warm covers, the weight of his actions came crashing down on his psyche.

  They just so happened to come in the form a small, easily identifiable purple gem sitting on the pillow next to his head. The exact gem he had wished for ever since he was forced to drop out of university. A gem of pure crystallized mana, used by rich mages to advance nearly instantly to the third rank.

  A bright purple gem, with a V carved into the top of it.