25 Faraway stranger and a Home to return to

Chapter 25: Faraway strangers and a home, left to return.

Mercury continued with a similar routine for quite some time, straining his mind and magic as much as he could without creating major problems for himself.

In essence, it was like working out with a plan. If one strained their muscles too much, they might tear and cause long-lasting damage, so it's important to know one's limits and where the limit of those limits was. That was what Mercury viewed as the key to improvement.

And, unsurprisingly, he did improve. Quickly even, if he compared it to the adventurers around him. Even his stats kept growing. He still improved his physical stats little by little, as he thought those were also very important. Mana could only do so much, after all, but it was still his main focus.

And so, every day he split his mind, attempting to control multiple masses of magical energy separately. And as soon as he was able to keep them somewhat stable, he tried doing different things with them, such as transforming one into heat and the other into light.

Just like that, he passed multiple pages again, slowly realising that he felt… content. He conversed with Kintra and it felt pleasant. It was welcoming when the adventurers laughed around him. The smell of wood, leather and metal of the gloryhall became familiar, and the food cart across the street would give him treats occasionally.

All the while, he was growing. Steadily and quite quickly. After all, Kintra asked about the stuff Mercury was curious about for him, but no other magicians in the city were doing things similarly to the way he was. Most of them simply used spells.

Well, that was one way to name it. Turns out that spells were quite like Skills in the system; one would activate them and have their mp consumed in order to cast them. The amount of mp could be adjusted as the user wanted, though the limit was determined by the level that the user was able to cast the spell at.

To them, it was combat magic. It was quick to use, took little time to prepare and still had a high Skill ceiling, taking into account mana pool size, regeneration speed and calculation ability to keep track of how many shots one had left.

But in terms of complexity and flexibility, Mercury found it quite lacking. Of course there were spells for creating light or heat, but if the spell did all of the work, and all you had on your side was the number of your skills and their levels, was that really magic? Did it really require the same understanding of one's mana that the path Mercury pursued did?

He would have to deny that. To him, it felt like nothing but a cheap imitation of actual magic, like what Yvette had shown him. Their balls of fire, spikes of ice, or bolts of lightning simply didn't stand to compare to Yvette's blade. She even claimed she wasn't casting magic!

But Mercury knew. He knew that what she called "swordsmanship" was something he would have to name magic. What she called "aura blade" didn't look like simply slashing and cutting to him - he could so clearly feel the magic from it, after all.

Well, then again, maybe in this world, magic was just a style of swordsmanship. Maybe some swordsmen seeked to cross blades with Yvette without even using mana veins. Maybe some would choose to even use nothing but their hands.

And regardless of Mercury's opinion, spells were still very flexible. There weren't just combat spells, but also utility ones. And while the system helped with channelling the mana, there was still a possibility of manual enhancement, or even adjusting spells. By mastering them, one could also shape them to their own needs.

After all, it seemed like in this world, it was all equal. Every stat was worth the same, simply being able to demonstrate that worth better in different situations. Every direction of growth was equal. Even talent was acquirable through hard work.

Of course, people weren't born equal. Some had higher stats and more Skills at birth. Some could be born cursed and weak. Some would have unique Skills and abilities that no one else could acquire.

But people could grow.

In this world, the ceiling seemed to be removed. Anyone could pick a direction and grow. Some may have a headstart and others may grow more quickly, but it was possible to catch up and keep up by working hard and smart enough. Mercury had done so by going through trials and then practicing, for example.

And now, he was sure of it. His direction of growth was the one he wanted to move along. And thus, he continued practicing.

- - - - - -

A man sighed as he stripped off his white gloves. They were specially made for him, woven from strings formed by melting the scales of dragons and stretching the liquid far out. In the process of string production, details were carved into the hair-thin strands, only to have been perfectly aligned once the gloves were woven together. Designs so minuscule they were invisible to the naked eye.

In short, the gloves were white.

In long, they were still white, but also self-cleaning, durable, magical and absolutely priceless.

The man tucked them away carefully in a coffer while tussling his fire-red hair with his now bare hands. He was still breathing heavily as he fell backwards into the soft fabrics of his bed.

Of course, everything had gone incredibly smoothly. Anything else would be preposterous to assume. But it had been incredibly exhausting nonetheless.

He hated politics.

Infamous as he may be, he disliked the constant backstabbing that was always an intrinsic part of them. He disliked the little lies and deceptions, the bait and the rumors, he hated the double motives and he despised the way they sought to use him for their intrigues.

In his light annoyance, he furrowed his brows, and for a moment, the air around him quivered. But it calmed down again as the man raised his toned upper body up once more. He walked to the bathroom first.

It was one outfitted with a sink and a thin sheet of dull grey duraton, a metal that would smooth over and become reflective at a single touch from magic.

It wasn't particularly hard or useful for combat, but it made for incredibly high-quality mirrors if installed correctly.

The man pressed his thumb into the indentation intended for it, and with a ripple passing over it, the duraton shone and reflected the man. His smoothly shaven chin, his lips, still crimson from the make-up he applied, his nose thin and long. He saw his brows, cleanly done but with a slight edge to them that always annoyed him and he saw his eyes, the same fiery red they usually were.

His hair that has been made to stand up in a spiky quiff only partially fell down, now forming bangs that managed to cover most of his left eye.

Then, he nodded a little. This was way better already. Next, he took a stone bowl and filled it with water, before putting his hand under it and bringing the water to a comfortable 40 therms, equal to earth's degrees celsius. He drenched a light towel in it, wrung it out, and placed it over his face as he laid down again.

Then, he dozed off for exactly ten minutes, reviewing the results of the negotiation again, before rising up another time. Once back in the bathroom, he took out the stopper from a bottle of wyvern oil, dripped it on a small, clean sponge, and applied it to his face. Then he wiped it all off with a clean cloth.

Finally, he smiled, pulled out a short tube from the dresser under the sink and reapplied his lipstick.

When he sat down on the bed, he undid his tie, took off his sacco and slipped out of his shoes, finalizing his casual attire.

He reached over to his nightstand while rubbing his eyes, ringing a small, handheld bell, and almost immediately his door popped open.

"Could you return my things now maybe?" he asked the young maid in a baritone voice, kinder than his wild appearance would make one assume.

"Sir, I apologize, but we are not permitted to-"

"Just the weights then, please. Those can't do a whole lot more damage than anything in this room, right?"

"... I will ask again, sir, but I cannot promise you anything."

The man smiled and waved it off. "Just tell me once you asked. It's not your fault, I know, so don't worry too much. You guys really paint me as much more dangerous than I really am."

He followed his last sentence up with a bit of a scoff once the maid had left again. He knew that she was probably thinking something along the like of, "Sir, we are simply taking necessary measures."

It really seemed that they thought he'd just tear up the mansion if he ever got bored. It was a bit of a pain that they insisted on seeing any and all of his storage whenever he entered here, especially since his hands were probably enough to turn the thing into a pile of ash.

"Sigh. What a pain," he murmured to himself, as the maid entered his room again empty handed.

Just as he thought she would give him an excuse, she said something entirely different. "Sir, would you care to go to the ground floor? I do not believe that your current room would be optimal for using the weights you requested."

And with another smile he nodded, following the blonde girl through the hallways of the mansion until she led him to the courtyard, where she put her hand to the floor and summoned a single dumbbell there. It's weights were polished to a shine, but their glimmer wasn't the usual metal sheen. They had a bit of an orange hue to them.

"Thanks," he said as he picked up the weight, "I appreciate it."

"I am glad to have been of service," the girl said and bowed, before quickly stepping away.

"Ah, one more thing," the man said and stopped her steps. "Check my nightstand. I left something for you there. I like people with courage." He flashed her a toothy grin as she hurriedly stepped away, flashing his almost canine teeth for a moment.

"Well then, back to business," he said, focusing on the dumbbell again as he slowly raised it. They had given him the lightest one out of all of them, but oh well. It still showed quite some trust, given that by throwing it he could probably rip a hole through a wall or two. Heh, more like all of them.

Or maybe, he thought with a frown on his face, it was a sign of fear.

- - - - - -

A ring made of three strands of metal, one copper, one tin, and one iron. They were quite cheap and easy to form, so they were used quite often in artifacts for the masses. But no other artifact was as prevolent as the ring, at least not in the Nevarzahri Aristocracy.

Three strands of metal were twisted together into a triplehelix, which was then bent into a circular shape and worn as a ring. It was quite pretty to look at and fairly easy to make, as there were even molds for each of the parts readily available and the assembly barely took any time at all.

The ring was a religious symbol. It stood for the three aspects of the goddesses, law, freedom, and justice. Three aspects which must always be kept in balance. Law was important to keep order, freedom was important to allow for individuality to flourish, and justice was important to keep people from abusing either.

None of these could take over. Justice could lead to vigilantes massacring people without remorse, order could lead to absolutism, and freedom to anarchy. Extremes needed to be avoided, and thus, the three needed to be balanced. It was delicate business, but thus was the will of the goddess and her servants.

Law, freedom, and justice, those were the three core principles of the church of order.

Of course, this symbol didn't just appear in the form of a ring. It could take the forms of bracelets, and ankle chains, and there was even a single person allowed to wear one on her head.

It was called the crown of order, a unique piece, keeping true to the simple design and materials, but simply being enlarged. It was unique because if it was worn by anyone but her, it was considered heresy worthy of execution. Even the production was prohibited, and so, it remained unique.

The crown of order was sacred, or, in other words, it protected whoever was wearing it. Because what idiot would dare challenge the entire church, with all their priests and priestesses, their clerics and monks, their bishops, abbots and followers? It was an organisation so widespread it was untouchable within the nation and even beyond.

But currently, the high priestess, the greatest religious authority above all others, the so called "Voice of Order", resided in Stormbraver, the capital city of Nevarzahri.

She was a tall woman, standing at 1,82 meters. Her platinum-blonde hair reached her waist, and while it usually looked a silvery white in the night, it shone like a hoard of pale gold in the sun. Her eyes were a deep mix of blue and green, unending as the ocean, and her lips were a soft red.

Combined with her smooth face, she was the kind of beautiful one might expect to be carved in marble, yet she had colour and moved. She seemed unaging and immovable with the way she carried herself. Her look, her posture, and her gait were full of authority, the kind one would only learn to have when leading.

And in essence, that's what she was. She wasn't some nameless figurehead, nor was she weak. She knew her nickname among those who weren't of the church, the nickname that was whispered and hushed over, the nickname none dared to mention to her face.

They called her a walking disaster.

Ha! A walking disaster. Those preposterous, arrogant, foolish, ignorant nonbelievers called her one of the walking disasters. It was ridiculous to even compare her to those other two. They thought her to be just as bad as those freaks? She'd show them, then. She'd show them just how bad she could be.

… If they disobeyed the teachings that was. She wasn't one to act unprovoked, and even if the words bothered her, that was no reason to silence a quiet believer. Anyone who follows the principle of the church without saying they were a follower was a quiet believer, after all, the love of order was all encompassing.

But so was it's wrath, and to those who chose their freedom over that of others, forced their laws on the weak, or chose their own justice as the only right one, the church was a mortal enemy.

She had sworn she'd hunt them all down.

As she looked over Stormbraver from the top of the temple, the balcony that only she and her attendants could stand on, she clenched the railing hard enough for the stone to crack. She had chosen to hunt down chaos, and as she had chosen to do so, she would uphold her oath. She would serve her goddesses. She would serve her purpose. And she would serve this world in her own way.

And with her conviction renewed as she did every day, she lifted up her tri-coloured robe and gracefully stepped down the stairs to the main hall.

She spoke her announcement with the voice of a hummingbird, with the tone of a charming chirp:

"Let the sermon begin."

- - - - - -

The three walking disasters were all people of their own right. They had gone down paths that led them to where they were now, and the opinions on them were very split. It wasn't like with other figures, whom there was agreement on, like the monsters, who were almost feral. No, opinions on the disasters were split.

But the opinions on one were especially polarized.

It was a man on a mountaintop, a man whose sheer prowess few could compare to. It wasn't just his physical strength, either. It was his magic, too.

Otto was a man who stood alone as many. He didn't rely on anyone else, all he relied on was his own power. Power gained from eating.

Otto ate the flesh and bones of monsters, rending them down to nothing. And then he digested them. Took their flesh as his own.

It made him a mutant, his skin scarred and blackened from burns. Parts of him were scaled, again others had fur, and his mouth had grown fangs. He was a half-mutant freak.

But he was strong.

And once he had enslaved the body of the monsters, made their strength part of his own, he sought to enslave their spirits.

They were his spells.

He knew nothing of magic, yet his mana had grown to a vast sea in his consumption. And so, he took their spirits with him, and had them cast spells for him under threat of death.

They were powerful. The souls of monsters like a dragon, combined with his mana, could create lightning and fire unlike much else, and all of them could act independently from him, too, using their own mana.

And then, over time, he'd bind them using an item that required prolonged contact, turning them into his obedient slaves, nothing more than an extension of himself.

And so, he mutated his soul.

He stood alone, as many, and there were few who could oppose him, but so what?

He killed the strong and prideful to grow stronger himself, yet the weak he left alone. In a sense, he was a protector, though no one might think of him like that.

Because he was a freak. Disfigured and terrible. His skin charred and scarred, not even human anymore. His fangs that of monsters and his soul that of many. He had golden eyes that shone with malice, a face that he had disfigured himself and a head, shaven so he'd know if he grew horns.

What was he, if not a monster?

And what were monsters if not wild?

This man wasn't a protector, he was unbound, unchained, unstopped. Someone who only hadn't harmed humans by coincidence.

It was fighting fire with fire. Some thought he would keep the monsters away, others thought he'd burn it all down himself. And no one, ever, thought to ask him themselves.

"Otto the Beast", they called him. "The mutant". "The freak". "The monster".

They called him "devourer" and "greedy" and "scarred". They called him "terrible" and "feared" and they all thanked the gods under their breath when he wiped out the plague that threatened a village.

He was hated and feared by all, some more and some less, and when he did good, most people thanked the gods, not him himself.

But no matter what he may be called and how much he may do, he looked scary, and he was scary. Because there wasn't someone to stop him. Because he was a monster. Because he was unpredictable.

And so, Otto was, above all, "the scorned".

A man who stood alone, as many.

- - - - - -

Mercury had learned pretty much all there was to learn about magic. He knew how to control mana and magical energy, how to use his ystirs, their strengths, weaknesses, and limits, and he could even split his mind in two.

It was an impressive array of skills. Multitasking, control over energy and transmuting it, even physical reinforcement. But he lacked a critical ability:

casting.

He had absolutely no idea on how to actually cast a spell.

Sure, he could create heat and light, but not much, and not very easily either. That barely would qualify as magic. He wouldn't even be able to bend a spoon at his current level.

And while Mercury didn't really mind the thought of a quiet life, there were a few obstacles.

First of all, he had made a promise to himself. He would bring back everyone he had lost. He wanted them back. He wanted to hear Gladiator's proud snarl, wanted to try and pick out Juno's quiet steps from the background, he wanted to see Second's loyalty and wanted to joke with Cherry.

He wanted to hear their laughs, and he had promised that nothing would ever stop him from that.

Secondly, he wanted to build a kingdom here. This wasn't his previous, ordinary life. Here, his life could be extinguished by anyone's whim if he wasn't strong or under the protection of someone strong. But if there was one things to make him grind his teeth, it was the thought of bowing his head to someone.

It wasn't an option. Being weak wasn't something he could do. No, he could, but every fibre of his very being trembled with fury at the thought of it. The very lengths he went to just to see some improvement was quite representative of that.

And the third reason was exactly that greed. Even though his hopes of greatness were trampled the moment they started, he knew they weren't wrong. He had been in this world for a mere few pages. Maybe a single year or so. No, not even quite that.

And still, he had defeated a human guard by surprising him, as well as a kid that was at least like 8. It was by no means impressive, but given the difference in age, their Skills should have been higher. Unless they put in less effort.

He had gone through more than 8 years of human growth in not even a year. Heck, his magic was probably absolutely insane for someone under a year of age. He was far beyond the point of a prodigy if one judged him by that.

So obviously, this world provided ample opportunity to outgrow one's peers, or even people who were stronger. And it even felt equal.

A wizard might beat a mage, a warrior might beat a wizard, an archer might beat a warrior. It wasn't that they necessarily countered on another, either. It was just about who was stronger.

Strength was available if one reached for it. And Mercury wanted to reach for it.

But there were places that felt like sinkholes and some that felt like ladders. And right now, he was in a bit of an indentation in the ground, when it came to the height of power.

So, Mercury had to move. To look for anything, really. Experiences, companions, and opportunities. He needed items and spells that could do revival, after all. But before that, he had to say his goodbyes.

First was the food cart owner who always gave him some salami. As he had been kind to him, Mercury decided to pay back the favour and scratched some runes of protection into the cart, just to make it last a little longer. They were mid-1st grade still, but Mercury pumped them so full of mana that they'd still provide some stability.

Second was Mei. This goodbye was almost even shorter, since they didn't talk. Mei simply had shown Mercury some compassion, and so, Mercury sought him out. It wasn't anything glamorous or special, since Mercury didn't really own very much yet, but he meowed a goodbye to the kid, just to let Mei know he was still doing okay. And after receiving a smile, he went onto the last person he needed to bid adieu.

Kintra, of course, was harder to leave. He felt that just saying "thanks" and heading off would be disrespectful, but without funds, he couldn't really get her something incredible.

So, instead, he came up with an alternative.

He took his log out of his inventory once. That log, with it's rune-covered insides, had been his home for many pages, after all. So it only seemed fair to leave part of that here.

But he couldn't settle on just that. He also wanted something else, which is when he turned to the room they shared. or rather, his catbed in the gloryhall. And made a decision.

First, he asked Cerno for help. The gladiator knew he could speak, after all, so getting his assistance wasn't that problematic. And it needed to be a surprise for Kintra.

Then, he cut two rectangles out of his catbet, both around half a centimeter thick, and did the same to his log, leaving him with 4 rectangles. He slowly rounded and smoothed the edges using his claws as well.

In essence, he was left with 4 small plates of wood. Which is when he needed Cerno's help.

He asked him for help with making small holes at the top of the plates and then tie them each together with some string, making two keychain-like objects. Each of them had a plate of his catbed and the log.

And then, he scratched a phrase into each of them.

"Home is where your friends are."

Split up, of course. "Home is" was on the log, while "where your friends are." was carved into the one made from the place they shared.

Approaching her was harder than Mercury had thought. He tried to gather up his courage and tell her he was leaving multiple times, but it didn't quite work out as he wanted to. Whenever he tried to tell her, he couldn't quite find the words.

But Mercury wasn't about to make excuses for himself. He knew he had to go. No, he knew he wanted to go.

So, eventually, he decided to simply force himself to tell her what he thought, one for one.

"Hey Kintra," he called out to her in a less busy moment. "I… well, I-. Ah fuck. Damn it. Okay. I have to leave here."

After a moment of hesitation he pushed past the first line. It was a difficult hurdle, but after this things got a little easier.

"You probably knew this was coming. You know me best out of anyone, after all. You took care of me, when there was no reward for you, simply because you're a good person. No, a great-... family. To me you're family."

It got a bit harder as he went on with it, especially seeing the small tears forming in the corners of Kintra's eyes. But he had to go on with this. It was something he had to do.

"Thank you, Kintra," Mercury continued. "For everything you've done for me. For giving me reasons to keep going, for giving me somewhere to stay, for saving my life when I didn't want it to be saved. You made a home for me. And I decided to also make something for you. I know it's not enough, it couldn't be, but at least it's something."

Then he took out both of the keychains and handed Kintra one, while keeping the other in his paw. He gave her a moment to read it, before returning her smile.

"I'm going to go on a little journey. You already know why I want to, probably. I simply can't forgive myself for not saving the people who trusted me. It's the same reason as for why I've been working hard. But even after I leave, I'll always see you as family. And no matter where we are, a piece of me will always be with you. Because you're home. You allowed me to make a part of your heart into my home, and I hope that maybe, you see me the same way…"

After a moment Kintra nodded slightly, clutching the small gift from Mercury in her hand. And after a moment of silence, she looked up from her hands, and met his eyes.

"Come back safe," she said, "please."

"I will. I promise."

And then, Kintra smiled a little again.

"So, have you packed yet?"

"..."

With a snort and a bit of a laugh, Kintra grabbed a normal backpack and filled it with supplies. Rations, largely, but also a full waterskin, an outdoors blanket, which somewhat resembled a tarp, and some coin. Weapons seemed a little… impractical. Paws foiling him once again!

After adding everything to the backpack, she placed it atop mercury's back, which is when she realized it was thrice his size. But just about as she wanted to apologize, the backpack disappeared into the mopaaw's inventory.

"Just as I thought," Kintra said, proudly nodding with her hand on her chin.

"Yes, of course," Mercury said with a smile. "I'll be off, then."

And before he could fight it, Kintra had embraced him.

"Be safe," she whispered.

"... I will."

And with that, Kintra watched Mercury go with a sad smile on her face and bitter tears in her eyes.

And Mercury left with a heavy heart and eyes full of determination.

Because he was a cat who didn't make false promises.