Magic Breaker [Enby MC Anti-Mage LitRPG]

“That looks fucking sick,” Opal says with a wide grin, trying to run their fingers through my manifested mantle. Patterns of geometry, mockeries and fragments of skills that I’ve broken, fragment and rebuild around their fingers, a little like system windows when you touch them. I let Opal play with the somewhat amusing effect for a little while, as Amelie eyes the construction.

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she gives a slight smile. “It is fascinating,” she admits. “I am curious what it’s made of and how it has been woven. If I could make something similar…” she trails off, but doesn’t need to say anything else. There is a chance, I suppose, since mantles must have at least some correspondence with the actual articles of clothing, that her and Sylves might one day make something similar.

Not for a long while, though. I take a deep breath, looking over at Norman, who leans against an earthen wall, layering barrier after barrier, practicing his skills. After the boss shattered it so easily, and he got a dose of lightning, he’s busy doing that. I’ve already healed the burns criss-crossing his skin. 

Of course, since he’s got a very normal and reasonable response to pain, he’s afraid of getting hurt again. Norman is, at his heart, a coward. There’s nothing particularly wrong or right about that, but I hope he figures it out soon, because then he can work on being brave. Being afraid and still walking forward.

Compared to him, I have it easy, since I don’t really feel all that much fear. I respect that about him, at least. 

A small sigh spills from my lips as I modify the spells in my library some more. I mess something up, and the backlash makes a little bit of blood pool in my mouth, but I quickly mend the wound before it even becomes noticeable. 

Except, of course, that Richard notices. She looks at me, four of her six eyes turned to see me, the other two focused on the soup, and gives a sad smile. Then, with a shake of her head, she gets back to cooking, saying nothing. I get it though. She knows the same thing I do.

We have to push ourselves. 

- - -

Another day passes with us running, digging, fighting, and running again. 

The forest, the Green Sea, is ruthless. It’s an endless millstone that fills every minute with battle. Simply surviving here is enough proof to the tower that one deserves a higher superiority level.

[Level Up! 53 > 54]

If I let my guard down, there are even more dangers than visible. Just a few hours ago, I turned my physical suppression up too high, making my body weak in order to train my stats, and ended up with a fungal infection. Spores sprouted inside my lungs, needing me to manifest solid mana to crush them, which caused a horrid feeling of suffocation.

But I still did it.

[Biological Restoration 15 > 16]

I breathe again, more easily this time, as Bile stalks forward further. He sniffs the air, then nods. “We’re close,” he says. “There’ll be an ascension well soon.”

“You can smell those?” Opal asks curiously, sniffing the air themselves, only to end up coughing from some kind of invasive pollen.

Bile shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “I can’t smell them, but scent tells me a lot. Like there having been a gathering of scithians and zoof recently, then having disappeared one by one. No scent of blood either, so probably not caused by the forest.”

“Huh,” the echo knight nodded along. “I see. That’s cool. Part of your tracking skills?”

“Yes,” the minotaur huffed. “Now quiet. Walk forward silently.”

Norman quickly headed to the front of the group, taking point and wreathing us in his stealth aura. Amelie’s puppets spread out further, working as scouts and sentinels, in a network around us. How she can see through them is something I still don’t quite understand - and I don’t think Amelie does either, but it seems to be some part of her epitaph.

Opal moves further up, too, while Richard stays in the middle, with Amelie and me in the back. We’re the least mobile members of the expedition, with the most range. So, we don’t exactly need to stick close. Instead, we fan out.

And our walk through the undergrowth slows. We stalk forward, step by quiet step, making sure that none of us make too much noise through the rustling plants. Some of it may be forgiven via Norman’s aura, but that has a limit, too. So we sneak forward.

Slowly, the trees thin. One by one, the forest opens up, as if we’re climbing out of some great beast’s maw. Above us, the canopy stretches as dense as ever, but the trunks around us lessen. The grasses and undergrowth stop covering the ground, and instead it seems to be… moss? Soft, springy moss.

Amelie’s wheelchair seems to get stuck in it a bit, the spokes sinking into the plantmatter. She clicks her tongue, and I start creating a thin platform for her to roll over instead, made from solidified mana.

[Solidification 16 > 17]

She gives me a small smile, and we move further along. The trees thin out even more, until there’s a clearing. And, grown from pale golden moss, I see the telltale pattern of an ascendancy well on the ground. It shimmers faintly, ready to lead us upwards- “Stop,” I call.

[Intuition 3 > 4]

Slowly, my eyes trail to the canopy. There’s nothing there. I blink. There’s nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Why are we stopping?” Norman asks, crouched and worried. 

“Give me a second,” I say. I wait. A second passes, then another, and the feeling intensifies. Something about the mana in the air… is off. I can’t put my finger on it. But it’s wrong, and it’s coming closer.

I focus. Something is off, and my senses are the best in the group. I hone in on the sensation, feeling at the mana in the air, looking closely, spreading my own field of [Observation]. And there’s… nothing.

So instead, I take a different approach. 

The feeling is coming from my side. My right, and a little behind me. Where my missing arm hangs loosely. A moment passes. My heart beats.

I spin around and stretch out my left hand. There’s nothing, for a moment, then a sharp pain. A thin wire digs into my fingers, cutting to the bone. It shears all the way through, really, but it takes time to get through my skeleton, and by the time it emerges on the other side, I’ve already reconnected my fingertips.

“Spiders!” I yell. “Look for threads!” 

And with that, there’s a hiss, and the illusion breaks. Above the ascendancy well, I see a few tangled cocoons, bodies wrapped up in thin threads. Silk strands stretch between the canopy, wrapping up the trees. The spiders are gorged, giant things, hanging down from their perch, fangs dripping with venom.

One crashes down on Opal, who promptly blinks out of the way. I [Select] it, and even as the spider tries to have the skill slip off of it, I redouble my efforts until it latches on. Then, through that, I cast [Suppression], bypassing the resistance, and slowing the thing down entirely. 

More flesh sprouts from my fingers, pulling them back into place against my hand. I solidify more mana, a thin glove and a dagger, getting ready for battle…

When my menu rings. 

There’s a distress call being fired off. Thatch, apparently, is in life threatening danger. And here these insects are, trying to stop me from getting to him.