Archive of Our Own

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but don’t you think that's a bit overkill?“ John grimaced, pointing at the notebook, filled with magic circles, some small, some large, all interlocked and woven into each other across pages, forming a large spell that spanned across the entire book’s pages.

Or, well, a spell that would span across all the pages once completed. Surna had only gotten through a fifth of the pages at the moment, and had said that progress would slow significantly later on.

The mana in the room, heavy with charge, buzzed and made the hair’s on John’s neck stand on edge. It was suffocating—too heavy to be properly circulated by John’s sixth circle level mana circuits— and coated everything in the room. Reverberating in his head was the thought that they really, really shouldn’t have decided to do this in the same room they were going to sleep for the rest of their stay. If the mana interfered with his sleep at all he was going to riot.

Heathcliff watched on with morbid fascination and noted, “You seem awfully familiar with this process. When was the last time you had done something similar?”

Surna paused, hands still held above the pages, fingertips flowing with mana that buzzed in the air and electrified it. He thought for a moment, as if digging through his mind for a long-buried memory and cleaning it off. “Not particularly. I’ve only done it once before, when Exilion was still three nations. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

Now, wasn’t that an interesting point of events? Surna, a man once feared as the devil and hunted down upon recognition, only having crafted such a dangerous “weapon”—if whatever he was making could still be called that— once before, and so long ago at that.

“You think you’re qualified to do this sort of work more than five hundred years later, with thousands of lives at risk?” John asked, walking a half-step closer, peering at the pages and watching the mana slowly but steadily get pulled into the intricacies of the interweaved magic circles.

Resuming his work, Surna answered easily, “Why wouldn’t I be? I doubt the general reaction to explosives has changed very much.”

“Then you’d be surprised,” Heathcliff crossed his arms, “Trade between the continents has started.”

John did a full body turn to look at Heathcliff in surprise. How did he have access to that sort of information? Dozens of possibilities swirled around in his head, but he soon dismissed them one by one until only one option was left; Hans was keeping him-

“The newspapers have mentioned new innovations and improvements to technology everyday for the last week,” Heathcliff furrowed his eyebrows, as if wondering how John could be so foolish to overlook one of the most common sources of information. “Have you been getting enough sleep and eating properly?”

Now that certainly was a question. Too bad John didn’t know the answer to it! “Duh,” he answered with confidence he had no right to have.

Heathcliff looked at John with wholly unwarranted suspicion for a few seconds before Surna paused his work again and called over his shoulder, “The thick layer of active mana is bad for cognitive function. John, you should leave and get started on recon.”

From the corner of his eye, John saw Heathcliff glancing at him. “Why haven’t you gotten started yet?” John supposed that was a valid question, if not so embarrassing to answer.

The truth was…

John hated reconnaissance; it was so tedious and annoying, even more so in the past when he only had four circles around his mana core, but still annoying even now. After all, he couldn’t wield the wind, and not having control over the wind meant he would have to actually go down and risk a few of his limbs.

Not that he particularly valued the attachment of his limbs to his body all too much, but the reattachment and healing process was also quite the headache. Not to mention the scolding he would get afterwards from Heathcliff.

He shuddered at the memory. For this mission, he was trying to not lose his life or limb. Or at least hide it well if he lost either. Heathcliff was scary.

“Got carried away,” John answered happily. That should be a passable excuse. Surna’s spell casting had always been quite the marvel to watch. What else was he going to say? I’m not prepared while wearing his usual reconnaissance gear that both Surna and Heathcliff had seen countless times?

“Step outside with me, I’ll help you get the mana off,” Heathcliff moved to the door, opening it for John, who stepped out and gave Heathcliff a grateful nod.

While John shook the mana out of his hair and boots, Heathcliff brushed the mana off his back, neck and gear. When Heathcliff was done cleaning off John’s gear, he handed John it back. “Ready?” He asked.

Nodding, John looked over himself one last time and saw that a few particles had gotten stuck in the folds of his mask that was currently hanging loose around his neck like a really short scarf. He brushed and cleaned it off before saying, “Yep. Go back inside now so I can re-seal the room.” After confirming there was no residual mana left on him, he corralled Heathcliff back inside. “Have fun!” He called, and shut the door with a soft click.

“We will,” came Surna’s response, a bit muffled. John laughed and drew a sealing circle on the door so no more mana could leak out and disturb Surna.

He stared at the door for a few seconds longer, face carefully blank, before he sighed and let his hand fall back to his side. John stretched, bending his back and cracking it. He tasted metal on his tongue and his throat went dry as he yawned and stretched some more.

“Work time,” he sing-songed, checking that his grappling hook was ready at a moment's notice, and then made his way down the stairs.

People, the locals, greeted him as he walked past.

“Finally dealing with the cryptid situation eh?” A regular at the bar John had made friends with lightly bumped his fist against John’s shoulder.

“Not just yet!” John turned to face the regular, walking with his back facing the exit. He pulled his goggles down, “Just doin’ a scan of the area so the soil won’t get worse.”

“Jus’ stop stallin’ already and ge’ it done!” an old woman with a cup full of beer yelled out at him.

He smiled placatingly, “I’ll be doing my best,” he said, and then turned back around to push open the door. What greeted him was the afternoon sun flashbanging him and forcing him to screw his eyes shut. John took off his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and forced his eyes to get used to the new level of light for a while.

“The pond is…” John mumbled to himself, wandering aimlessly for something to hopefully jog his memories.

When they returned after being surprise attacked by those regenerating ghost fish creatures and stumbled into town, John remembered especially hating how the back side of the inn they were currently staying in, in present time, looked. He walked behind the inn and looked at its ugly-ness once again.

Truly, it was quite hideous and resembled a bad patchwork of a bunch of different wood types and colors. No one knew why it looked like that. The inn had always had enough spare wood lying around to do repairs with the same wood the majority of the building was made out of.

More than that, from the rooms themselves the wood was still the same, so they made an extra layer of wall specifically for the back.

From an everything standpoint, the back of the inn truly was horrific to look at. John wanted to puke. He held a hand to his mouth and looked away, skin a few shades greener.

Before— or well, after he noted the inn’s horrific backside, what else did he take note of? A streetlamp caught his attention while he was looking around. While it didn’t look particularly out of place, it still pissed him off for some reason. He walked a bit closer and squinted hard.

Nope, still just looked like the average streetlamp; big wooden stick with lantern at the top that was lit via a pulling mechanism. He continued walking forward, towards the street lamp, ignoring his instincts telling him to stop, until he was full-body slammed with an unbearable stench that invaded his nostrils at record pace and made his knees weak.

He pinched his nose and frowned. Judging by the people walking past said street lamp with no reaction, he was the only one affected by the smell. And then he remembered why that street lamp seemed so evil. When they were escaping the ghost fish, John had run past that exact street lamp before, and almost collapsed then and there because of it.

If he wasn’t mistaken, from the street lamp… John narrowed his eyes and continued pinching his nose as he walked past the street lamp and into an alleyway between two houses. He continued walking forward until he was met with the dingy wooden fence that separated the town from the large swaths of open green fields that extended in all directions except behind him.

John stopped pinching his nose and breathed in the calming scent of nature, taking deep breaths to prepare himself for the real mission that lay ahead; hiding himself from ghost fish and finding out what exactly caused it.

Sighing to himself, he put back on his goggles, readjusted the mask—layered with water breathing and sound muffing spells — he was wearing so it was pulled over his nose and was slightly under his goggles, and set off in the direction of the underwater cave.

—————

As he heard another fish swim past, John hurriedly moved to a spot the fish would hopefully not go to— an open spot near the top of the cave. He pressed his body between stalactites, hoping nothing would rip or tear against the pointy rock, especially his skin.

The fish itself wasn’t in very good condition— it actually resembled a century egg but in fish form. The bones of the fish had turned into a darker color; not pure black but maybe a dark grey, while the flesh had turned a translucent sort of brown in some parts. All in all, the fish versions of the undead looked quite similar to their land animal counterparts. That is, aside from the parts of their flesh that were completely transparent.

Even through the translucent sections of skin, John couldn’t see any organs, so he suspected that they had turned into mush and were digested for energy since the need for them disappeared.

Was this what Heathcliff meant when he spoke about whatever “Zombies” were? If so, John had no wish to encounter any of those undead human versions of the ghost fish. Still, that wasn’t to say the phenomena of the creatures residing near the pond turning into “undead” wasn’t interesting.

Blood or any extra noise would make the ghost fish alarmed and chase him out and away from the leyline branch– or at least that was what he guessed based on the behavior of the over undead creatures–, which was actually the opposite of what he wanted at the moment.

On top of needing to get near the leyline branch, John needed to find out what patterns the ghost fish moved in, what path was the most effective way to get near the leyline branch, how to seal it, and if Surna’s spell would work on it or not as a last ditch effort.

Safe to say, John had his work cut out for him. He softly released a breath of air and continued swimming towards the leyline branch.

While he wasn’t a bad swimmer by any means, casting magic that required constant recalculations and adjustments while swimming, recalculating which route back would be fastest, and keeping an eye on the fish wasn’t an easy feat, so he swam a lot slower than usual as to retain the stability of his illusion spell.

More than that, the cave went in a downwards direction—luckily it wasn’t too steep—, so the farther down he went, the more he had to concentrate to bend the light.

One small mishap, and he would be chased all the way up, progress reset and the ghost fish plenty more on guard. He took a steady breath in and out.

‘Come on, John. Keep calm,’ he closed his eyes for a few seconds and paused, letting the sound of water bubbling and moving around him calm his steadily increasing heart rate. When he opened his eyes, they were lit anew with a fresh wave of vigor, and so he continued.

John made sure to keep a constant eye on the ghost fish around him, tracking their movement patterns, how they interacted with each other, and their behavior in general.

What he had learned was the following; unlike most mana structures, the ghost fish were still corporeal. They could interact with the cave’s surface and living creatures just fine.

He had counted six fish in total, and there seemed to be a hierarchy among these fish that was strictly adhered to.

All of the fish were of the same species—the kind found in rivers and oftentimes caught by parents to keep as pets for their children. This made John suspect that these fish had been dumped here by their owners, most likely while they were alive, and forgotten about.

Whoever— or judging from the amount of fish in here, the individuals that— had dumped the fish in here most likely assumed this cave connected to a river, or maybe even a lake. Sadly, even if it once had, the growth of the leyline branch probably had made part of the cave collapse and cut off the connection.

The most respected fish—differentiated by a part of its top fin that was broken off— seemed to be the fish with the most completely translucent chunks of flesh. It was also the largest in size. As the fish got higher in the hierarchy, it seemed the translucent sections of skin and their size also increased.

Leylines were branches of the world tree that circulated mana and promoted life, so John’s current hypothesis was that the fish had somehow been absorbing the mana passively released by the leyline, and that mana allowed them to live on without organs and way past their natural lifespans.

If his guess was correct, that would mean the most respected / strongest fish had the most affinity to the mana emitted by the world tree or had been dumped here the longest and had therefore absorbed the most mana.

Whatever choice it was—even if it was neither—, John had a feeling Heathcliff and Surna would be highly interested in whatever was going on with this pond.

After a few more minutes of swimming, John finally reached the point with most mana. Coincidentally, it was also the deepest point the cave went, which probably meant his guess that the leyline’s growth knocked a few rocks loose and blocked the fish inside was correct.

The leyline growing in this cave wasn’t normal—none of the ones that they had come across during their travels were.

In the first place, leylines usually stayed far below ground— or that was what the World Tree itself claimed. John had his suspicions about the truth of its claim since the leylines were its roots and it had issues controlling them properly, but to prevent friction with the elves, he didn’t call it out on its bull.

John moved to the ceiling of the cave so there was a lower chance of the ghost fish disturbing him. Then he thought for a moment, and moved to press his back against a wall, angling his body towards the exit-entrance for a quick getaway if needed. He pulled his mana up to his eyes so he could see the way the mana circulated and moved throughout the water and ground, and if there were any major problems.

As he watched the mana circulate, a throbbing headache in his skull started making itself known. Currently, he was tracking the mana and ghost fishes' movement, keeping his illusion spell active, and analysing the leyline, so it was no wonder his brain felt the strain. After a few more minutes, John decided he had gathered enough information and let the mana he directed to his eyes flow back down to his core, lessening the strain on his core and brain.

With that, his headache receded a bit, but the dull throb was still present. He screwed his eyes shut, and took a few calming breaths before he started his ascent to the surface, theories and ideals swirling around his head.

—————

John knocked on the door three times, paused for a moment, and then knocked twice, as they had discussed earlier in the commission's details.

The sound of slippers against wood flooring could be heard, the sound getting louder until it stopped. Then the door opened, revealing a middle aged woman with eyes that reminded John all too much of Zero Order’s gaze—the kind that had already weighed your worth and deemed you utter trash. Her gaze flitted from John past Heathcliff to Surna, but caught on Heathcliff’s appearance and then softened.

Recognition made her eyes widen, crow’s feet smoothening out, and she hurriedly opened the door to let them in as she turned and called for someone named “Abigail” to prepare some tea for the guests. She asked Abigail where her son was, but Abigail just motioned to the door using her head, left hand preoccupied with dishes stacked on a tray, and the other holding a bucket full of cleaning supplies.

With a grateful smile, John stepped inside and took off his shoes, seeing as neither Abigail nor the owner—Mayor Theris— were wearing any. He then stepped aside and bowed so Heathcliff could take a proper look around and see for himself as Surna held open the door for Heathcliff behind him, who was the last one to enter.

John closed the door softly once Surna entered and turned to find Heathcliff already seated in the living room, on the couch he presumed the Mayor herself had been occupying just seconds prior. He placed his shoes on the shoe rack that was near the door, and also took the liberty of moving Surna and Heathcliff’s shoes to the shoerack, too.

One thing John would give about Heathcliff’s acting abilities—or lack thereof— was that he always wielded an air of authority no matter his identity, like the idea of power was engraved into his soul and carved into him.

In all honesty, John wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Lumensis didn’t seem like the type to cut corners on something made for himself, after all. Lumensis making Heathcliff so powerful was one of the only good acts he had done if he had done any at all, in John's opinion. Heathcliff’s strength was what made everything possible in the end.

Like they had discussed, Surna had taken a seat to Heathcliff’s right, and so John took his seat to Heathcliff’s left.

Mayor Theris’ house was just like it looked from the outside, homey and welcoming, which was not the impression he got from her appearance— carefully dressed with no wrinkles to be found in a sort of half formal half casual outfit comprised of a black pencil skirt, white blouse with a ruffled collar and a sort of black belt-harness thing.

As opposed to her appearance, her home was “messy“, though John had an inkling this was on purpose. Children's toys were scattered about, messy drawings were framed and hung up on the wall, and pictures of Mayor Theris’ family were hung up alongside the drawings. On the loadbearing pillar that connected to the kitchen were markings; lines and dates. Her son’s height as he grew, John presumed.

He fought back a grimace as his throbbing headache returned with full force. Deep breath in, deep breath out. John let out a small sigh and screwed his eyes shut.

‘It seems like triple casting took quite a toll on me,’ he lamented, ‘I can’t even do some simple deduction without my body hating me…’ John fought hard to keep his hands from shaking and the smile on his face wavered a bit.

Wearily, he opened his eyes again when he heard the sound of porcelain making contact with wood and saw Miss Abigail placing a tray full of teacups on the table. She then moved to the kitchen and brought out a teapot and placed it on the table, too.

After she poured everyone a cup of tea, she walked behind Mayor Theris, standing to her left.

Heathcliff nudged John ever so slightly with his elbow, mouthing, “You okay?”

John forced a smile and nodded at him, gesturing to Mayor Theris and Miss Abigail with his head. Surna cleared his throat and reached for the teacup, bringing it closer to him. “Shall we begin?” He asked.

“Very well,” Mayor Theris nodded, then bowed a tad bit. “I would first and foremost like to thank you for accepting this commission, and acting in the interest of this town. On behalf of all the townspeople, I thank you for your kindness and generosity.”

‘Kindness my ass,’ a muscle in John’s jaw twitched, so he took a sip of tea to obscure his face and was pleasantly surprised by how it tasted. Then again, he supposed it was only natural for one of the most powerful people in a politically important town to have access to nice refreshments.

Heathcliff shook his head, face carefully neutral. “Anyone else would’ve done the same in my place, Mayor.”

“Let’s not dawdle.” She elegantly covered her mouth with a hand, not even trying to hide the mirth on her face. “What have you found?” She zeroed in on Surna, thankfully looking over John, who let a small, thankful, sigh out as she did. If she had targeted him instead, he didn’t know what he’d do.

‘Working with smart people is the best!’ He cheered internally.

Surna offered her one of his half-smiles, “The nutrients in the soil is being sapped by a corrupted leyline branch, and also just so happens to be the source of the undead issue as well.”

The tension in Mayor Theris’ body leaves her in an instant as she slumps against the back of her seat. Bringing her right hand to her face, she rubbed at her nose bridge, raising her glasses off her face with her left hand. She laughed with a hint of self deprecation and muttered something inaudible before she sat back up again.

‘She’s really been worried by this whole mess, eh?’ John peeked up at Miss Abigail, finding her smiling warmly at Surna.

“Do you have a solution?” She leaned towards them, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table.

“A week’s worth of time for preparation is needed,” Heathcliff says, “but if you can’t afford that-“

The mayor’s son— Freda— barges in the room, door slamming against the wall with a large bang!

Immediately, Mayor Theris stood up and scolded angrily, “Freda! We have guests!”

“You’re not gonna close the rift!” The boy yelled, face all red. He stomped his feet, shoes still muddy, against the otherwise clean hardwood floor and made a bit of mud splatter.

‘Rift? What a curious way to refer to the leyline branch,’ John narrowed his eyes and brought a hand up to his chin, ‘Though I suppose anyone uninformed would see a dark pool swirling with mana as a rift to another world.’

“Freda! Do not create more work for Miss Abigail!" Mayor Theris stormed up to her son

“Why are you against its sealing?” Surna inquired curiously, crossing his left leg above his right and clasping his hands to rest them in his lap. Beside John’s left, Heathcliff elegantly picked up the still warm cup of tea they had been so kindly served by the Mayor’s servant, Miss Abigail, and took a sip, acting unbothered by the child’s actions.

So far, they had been playing their parts perfectly— Heathcliff would be the boss and powerhouse, since he was the only one out of their trio publicly known to have survived and killed Lumensis, Surna would be the advisor, having had the most encounters and knowledge about the leylines, and John would be their silly little jester.

It seemed that John would need to step in and stop acting as the fool for a few moments to comfort the child, though, but he chose to wait and see how Surna would handle it, seeing as Heathcliff was refusing to make a move.

Nudging Heathcliff slightly, John gave him a concerned glance. Was he reminded too much of Arpa? Grimacing, Heathcliff shook his head, gesturing at Freda and Surna with a minuscule tilt of his head.

So he wanted John to get involved but wasn’t willing to step in himself… how curious… John narrowed his eyes slightly and bowed his head ever so slightly.

“I-!” Freda choked, clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head. “Just don’t!”

“You know that if you’re asking for something, you need to provide proper reasoning,” Mayor Theris softened her voice, “We’ve been over this. If you can make a good enough argument against the sealing, we won’t do it.”

Freda opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, as if debating whether or not he should tell his mother why he was so against the sealing. John was well aware of everyone’s waning patience, so he decided now would be a good time to step in and push Freda to explain himself and quit stalling.

“Look,” John said, sighing. “if we don’t seal the pond, this town will be overrun by the undead in a matter of months,” he emphasized the little time the town had left. John cross his arms and casually added, “Not to mention the eroding soil quality is making it difficult for-“

“The pond has my fish inside!” Freda cut John off with his loud yell. “What about my fish?! Mother, you killed one of them anyways! Take responsibility!” He demanded, screaming out with all the power his little ten year-old lungs could handle. Freda’s arms here limp by his side, and only the noise of his haggard breaths could be heard as everyone was stunned silent by his confession.

John could feel Heathcliff and Surna’s eyes boring into the back of his skull, but he paid them no heed. ‘This bastard is putting the lives of some fish as equal to a town with a population in the thousands..?’

The rest of Freda’s words took some time to register in his head-

“…excuse me..?” Surna muttered. John felt Surna’s mana oppressing everyone in the room, including John himself who could no longer stop himself from trembling.

“W- I-” Freda trembled, taking a half-step back. The rustling of fabric was heard as Surna stood up.

-but when they did…

“Those damned ghost fish are… yours?” John didn’t recognize his own voice, nor the mana that poured out of his body in waves that threatened to drown everyone in the room.

—————

“Do you truly think you’re capable enough? If not, I’m-“ Surna began, only to be cut off by John’s startled yelp.

“No, no.” John hurriedly shook his head, waving his hands wildly in front of himself as if to dispel the thought with the pure force of the rejection. “Don’t bother. It's fine. This is basically my only contribution otherwise. Just as long as I don’t have to do anything else, I’ll be fine.

Heathcliff frowned and crouched down to be on eye level with John “Pushing-“

“John is impossible to persuade when he gets like this,” Surna sighed, standing up and stretching, “Just do your part well so he can relax”

‘Are they really talking bad about me while I’m within ear shot? Man, the gall of those two…’ John gaped at them before he regained his composure, “Hey, I'm right here, you know!?”

“And you know that this is a partnership, right?” Surna shot back immediately, golden eyes glinting with a dangerous look.

John groaned, “Whatever,” he decided having this conversation now would just be wasting energy and decided to concede this time, “Just hand over the book bomb. I need to hurry while I still have energy.” John combed through his hair with his left hand, letting his right plop down on his lap.

Surna wordlessly passed John the book and a water bottle. John reached for the book first, but Surna moved his hand back and shook the water bottle in his face like he was some sort of cat that needed persuading.

Too tired to glare at Surna, John took the bottle without complaint and drank just to placate him, surprising himself when he emptied the bottle in a matter of seconds and put it on the ground beside him. Wiping his mouth with his right hand, John took the book with his left.

While standing up, Heathcliff offered a hand while Surna checked over John’s gear. John gratefully took Heathcliff’s hand, relying on him to pull himself up straight. When he finally stood upright, he stumbled a bit, feeling lightheaded. Surna and Heathcliff both helped him stay upright, Heathcliff grabbing John’s arm and Surna placing a hand on John’s shoulder.

“Next time, ask for a looser deadline, alright?” John tiredly looked at Heathcliff. “Ugh, I’m so tired,” he groaned to himself, rubbing his face. Shaking his head, he slapped himself. “Whatever. You can do this, John!”

“Did he go insane?” Heathcliff worriedly pointed at John.

“No, this is quite normal behavior for him,” Surna replied, wiping John’s goggles clean.

“Then it seems like he went insane quite a while ago.” Brows furrowing, Heathcliff appraised John who was in the midst of hyping himself up.

“Maybe,” Surna shrugged

“Hey! I can hear you guys, you know!” John whirled around to face them, frowning. “Ah, thanks,” he said to Surna, taking his goggles back. “Where is my..?” He frowned, patting himself down.

“Here,” Surna said, handing John back his mask.

“Oh,” John widened his eyes, “when did steal? I didn't even notice.”

“When you were busy dozing off as Heathcliff and Mayor Theris conversed. The spell looked worn so I fixed it up.” he shrugged.

“You were paying that close attention to me?! Surna…!” John teared up.

“That small act of consideration is enough to bring tears to your eyes..? Whatever. Stop making a fuss,” Surna shook the mask, making a show of his displeasure.

“Even I didn’t notice,” Heathcliff looked surprised. He nodded at Surna, “Thanks for keeping an eye out for us.”

Surna looked at Heathcliff like he was insane, which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly an unfair assessment of Heathcliff’s mental state. Then again, they were all a bit crazy.

John put on his mask first, then his goggles. “I’ll be off! Pull me out of the water.” He called as he readjusted his mask again, waving to them. Without further ado, he dove into the water.

By now, traversing the cave was muscle memory.

His mana moved in a familiar pattern as he bent the light around him. Not wanting to waste any time, John took the shortest route possible, navigating the maze like cave structure with practiced ease.

When he spotted a ghost fish, one with part of its left fin missing, he faltered a bit.

‘Ah, am I seriously missing these bastards? Come on, get a grip,’ John let out breath and continued on traversing the cave, eyes roaming around for what would likely, hopefully, be the last time.

In no time, he reached the leyline branch and carefully got as close as he could to it, placing the book carefully near it, but didn’t let go of the book.

When he did. The book would no longer be under the affects of his spell. He simply didn’t have enough mental energy to expand his spell at the moment. When the fish noticed the book, they would lock onto him as well, and then he would need to yet again run away from six angry ghost fish and whatever creatures that had fallen into the water when they weren’t paying attention.

He sighed and braced himself, counting himself down. Five, four, three, two, one! He let go and the ghost fish in the vicinity called out, then started chasing him down.

John didn’t bother with the illusion spell anymore and just swam as fast as he could up, using his water attribute to his advantage and propelling himself.

When he saw the light of the surface, he thrusted a hand up and activated his grappling hook, which burst up to the surface with a large splash. John relaxed as he felt himself getting pulled by the grappling hook’s chain but continued swimming. He shot up into the air and panicked momentarily before Surna flew up to catch him in his arms.

Meanwhile, Heathcliff connected the last few mana circles and activated the sealing charm. When Surna saw Heathcliff give the singal, he snapped his fingers.

In no time, the ground shook and a large explosion rang out. John saw rocks crumbling and the cave getting blocked off from the surface. He was startled by the warmth that filled his body and he only managed to turn halfway before his eyelids felt heavy.

John faintly registered Surna floating down and handing him over to Heathcliff.

“Rest. We’ll fill you in later,” Surna promised.

—————

“If you ignore how much of a pain that was, our time here was actually quite fun!” John smiled, looking off at the sunrise while covering part of his eyes with his hand, blocking the sun’s rays from blinding him. The warmth was welcomed with open arms. Pausing in his steps, John frowned.

“Where did we plan on going next, again?” John turned to face Heathcliff and Surna. The heat created by the rising sun warmed up his back, that was faced towards the sunrise, and he smiled warmly at them, rubbing the nape of his neck. His neck was still sore from being bent over a desk for a week straight, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

While he had been angry at Surna for putting him to sleep all of a sudden, keeping grudges for too long, against Surna especially, was bad for his mental state. Anyways, John had scolded Surna for two hours straight and when Heathcliff didn’t agree with him, John scolded both of them for three hours more.

Safe to say, they were even now.

“Visiting an old friend in Quoden,” Surna nodded at John, and beckoned Heathcliff to get moving. Heathcliff was over fifteen steps behind the two. John hadn’t even noticed that Heathcliff had stopped moving for who knows how long.

As expected, trying to sense an eight circle mage as a mere sixth one was out of his reach. Oh well, John sighed quietly. He had done quite a bit of sighing these past few days. Maybe a break was due.

John frowned when Heathcliff showed no signs of moving and stepped down the hill, took Heathcliff’s hand, and dragged him back up the hill to meet up with Surna. When he looked up at Surna, John also froze in his tracks. Surna, with the rising sun behind him seemingly giving him a halo, looked brilliant, rivaling the view of the stars illuminating the sky from a mountain.

Tilting his head and half turned to look at them, Surna narrowed his eyes as if to say, “The hell do you want? You have a problem, punk?”

‘Ah,’ John’s eyes widened and he laughed, continuing up and grabbing Surna’s hand with his free one. “Then what are we waiting for?”