Zeph heads out after rambling at us for a few minutes. Like a storm, she simply sweeps over us, then disappears off into the distance, vanishing into a stealth skill I can’t see through without causing more trouble than she deserves.

  Despite her cold attitude, after all, she helped us, for no reason other than us being climbers, too. Even if the rant was only a few minutes long.

  The first two lessons were the most important, and wide-reaching. The first floors of the tower are almost a tutorial. The first floor, which requires you stay until reaching the first threshold at level 10. The second floor requires hitting level 25. The third floor requires level 50. The fourth floor requires level 100.

  On the fifth floor, the rules change, though she refused to elaborate how or why. It brings bad luck to reveal too much about the tower, apparently. If you do it too often, you could even draw the tower’s wrath.

  The threshold guidelines are, in a lot of ways, about safety. Otherwise, higher magic density on the higher floors could just kill or mutate people. In fact, the tower’s mana might disintegrate one’s living body like it did the goblin corpses back on Earth. Or it could spawn parasites right inside your chest as a “special trial.”

  So, only ascend once the thresholds were crossed. The other lesson she imparted was the danger on the second floor. The storm.

  There were cities here, of course, but none formed around ascension wells - portals were always, always temporary, since the storm would eventually sweep through the area. No one wanted to be caught in it, so all cities were nomadic.

  Getting caught in the storm was a swift way to die, she said. In fact, it was so integral as a threat, that it was baked into the system. See, the second floor was the great unifier. It tested the simple ability for any person or group of people to survive.

  [Ascension Quest: Within Nature. The second floor is full of treachery. Survive for twenty-five days to ascend to the next floor.]

  I look at the sky, shimmering a dark blue behind all those eyes, and the green grass under my feet. I look at Sylves, still sprawled out. I listen to the faint wind and the silence that stretches on in this place. The distant fog that makes it hard to predict what might be coming. And, for a moment, I let myself wonder if it could really be that bad.

  - - -

  Inu stumbles out of the ascension well, bleeding, holding her side. There’s a massive hole just under her ribcage. It reaches about a third of the way across her torso by width. Then, she drags an unconscious Norman out behind her, dumping him on the grass unceremoniously.

  “Heal him,” she demands. I feel a spark of annoyance with her tone, but seeing the absolute torrent of blood pouring out of her, I put my objections aside and take a look at Norman. He’s… okay, for the most part.

  [Observation 1 > 2]

  Ah, no, there’s some bleeding in his brain. That would make Inu worry.

  A tiny application of [Biological Restoration] knits the blood vessels back together, and a separate cast of [Disintegration] turns the blood that was already spilled into motes of mana. Norman groans, but his breathing steadies. Inu looks relieved.

  Already, the blood spilling from her side has lessened, her [Resistance] steadily adapting to the blood loss, almost stopping it. I look at her. “Is it okay to heal you now?”

  She smiles, with tears in her eyes. “Please do,” she says. “This hurts a lot.”

  I nod, then [Suppress] her pain. A quick look at her wounds prepares me for a rather lengthy healing session. Sylves hands over some dried food, infused with actual faerie [Hospitality]. It helps my healing take hold a little more easily.

  Inu is tricky. [Resistance] does resist damage, after all, but it also kind of resists healing. It resist… well, everything, really. Mana, impacts, even gravity. Inu is noticeably lighter by now. But she can also control it. When she twists the skill into the right shape, and has it act the way she wants, then it can resist only damage.

  That makes healing her actually easier. Unlike the others, it means she has to be an active participant. If she were unconscious, I probably couldn’t stitch her back together. This way, though, with her help? And her massive heart score?

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  [Biological Restoration 6 > 7]

  Inu bravely grits her teeth, and I ease the pain as much as I can. “Lean on me with some Empathy,” I say.

  “Me too,” Sylves offers.

  With a tiny nod, she does just that. Liquid fire arcs through my side. It hurts as if my insides were being torn apart. I gasp from it, almost stumbling, but then, [Suppression] comes down violently. The pain fades away to a dull buzz and I draw a sharp breath.

  Sylves sits there. Then, very slowly, she grabs her legs, wrapping her arm around her knees and curling up. “Fuck,” she says. “Fuck it hurts.”

  I nod sympathetically, then focus on the healing more. Mana pours out of me, forming shapes. I trace them with my finger, just faintly, feeling the faint resonance between the motions. The way my hand vibrates when following the pattern. It seems to help the spell take hold just a little better, so I continue with it.

  Again and again and again I cast, letting magic seep into the wound and new flesh wriggle forth. It’s not perfect, even once I’ve emptied out my entire vessel into the spell, but it’s healed. There’s still a noticeable dent. I don’t think I’ve entirely reformed her intestines correctly, and she might have lost a kidney.

  Maybe once my healing spell is better. I look at my lost arm. Yeah. It’ll make good practice.

  “Done,” I say. Inu gasps a small thanks, then falls over backwards, collapsing onto the ground.

  Shaken by the impact of the resilient girl, Norman stirs awake. He sits up, then looks around in a panic. When he notices me, he calms down, just a little. “Oh,” he says. “We’re out?”

  Sylves pats his shoulder. “You are,” she assures him. “Safe and sound on the second floor.”

  He blinks. “Safe and sounds…” he repeats. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

  The two start talking, and I tune it out a little. Instead, I look at the sky again.

  [Respitia the Pure glares at you for your appropriation of the healing arts. She declares that an ant could do better than you.]

  Heh. That’s funny. “They can’t,” I whisper to her. I know they can’t because they needed me to heal one of them on the previous floor, but-

  But Respitia doesn’t know that.

  Huh. I think it over again. Her sentence only makes sense if she hadn’t seen me then. It makes me think… what do the Eyes see? And do they need to pay a price for it?

  Clearly the Flametouched wants to kill me, and so does Respitia, but neither have been able to do so. Which means they either can’t see me properly, or can’t communicate entirely with their clergy. Perhaps both.

  I heard a thundercrack in the distance.

  The tower was, to some degree, fair. Not always, definitely not always, but every sabotage came with a price. And now, I’d gotten my first hint at this all. Just a tiny bit. But that was fine. It was only a matter of time until I could break it all apart from here.

  - - -

  Before Opal and Amelie dragged themselves through the well, there were a few others. A notable amount of humans - probably because we were new to the tower and so there was an upwards rush. We were competitive, after all. Hiy’ht and wulven came up, too, but very few of the species I know have been in the tower for longer.

  The scraggly guy with the grimoire comes through, and sits down on the ground. I look at them, and they stare back at me. They have small, round glasses, and a resting frown. “Name?” they ask.

  “Ion,” I reply.

  Their eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” they say. Suddenly, eyes are on me. “Really, now?”

  I notice their fingers drift along the page of their grimoire, and I notice tiny inscriptions on it. “Give me your spellbook and I’ll prove it.”

  “Absolutely not,” they say, sneering. “I would be amenable to showing you some tricks for a low fee…”

  I blink. Is he… trying to fleece me? Yeah, no. Instead, I focus on my mana maze again, threading the energy through it.

  They lean in. “What’s that?” they ask.

  Slowly, I turn to face them. Hungry, curious eyes. “Name?” I ask.

  “Caster,” they reply, pushing their glasses up.

  I nod, silently, focusing on the exercise again. Mana threads, courses, then breaks in the maze when I lose control over it, when the motions required become too delicate and the distance of the thread is too large. The maze hums, harmlessly dispersing the tiny bits of energy into the air.

  That rascal with a book tries to pick at the scraps with their own mana. I reach out and [Deconstruct] the attempt. Their eyes widen, looking at me like a biologist might at a particularly interesting snake. “Fascinating,” they mutter.

  At that, I shake my head a little. Then I focus again. “Don’t try it again,” I warn, calmly.

  Caster looks at me, with that same frown as always. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across their face. “Alright,” they say. With those words, they stand up, and walk away. I’m left in blissful silence, until Opal arrives, and starts yapping my ear off.

  With a soft sigh, I try to ignore them too. Bay better figure out how to recharge my headphones soon, dang it, or I’ll use my requests to learn a skill for it.

  Someone stumbles out of the portal. A middle-aged looking woman, covered in red, bleeding gashes. No one else has set up a healing station here, yet. I walk over to her, kneeling down. “Hey. I’ll heal you up for one minor request.”

  The woman turns at me. For a moment, she seems to wanna contest it, but then, Opal stands behind me, sword slung over their shoulder. Instead, she just nods. “Okay.”

  Time to make bank.