-Callia-

  With Brother obsessing about making batteries, I lost my pilot, but I wasn’t just going to sit around doing exercises trying to adjust to my new stats. I wanted to go on a hunt. Turns out operating the quadcopter isn’t nearly as hard as he pretended it to be. I even dragged Dad over when he was off duty to join in. Not as a pilot but in a capacity similar to how Grandpa used to throw things for me to dodge.

  I don’t think my brother was happy with how many copters I scrapped, but it was good fun, and something about flying feels so right. Just like how I loved hunting, archery, and ambushing people, flying soon became something I did the moment my mana recovered. Honestly, I understand why he was so focused on making batteries. I can barely last a half hour before I need to land, and the higher I fly, the faster it drains me.

  I even rigged a locking mechanism to hold the flying mechanism in place so I could switch to my bow and take shots while drifting in whatever heading I last set. My new stats also made a huge difference. It’s like I’ve been wearing training weights without knowing my whole life, while before the mastery of skills made me feel like I was Hawkeye hitting every target with my bow and moving around difficult terrain with masterful ease. Now I feel like Hawkeye with Captain America's serum, jumping with super strength and mastery. At the same time, it’s apparent that it’s harder to press my skills to the limit like I could without the stats.

  I kept everything relatively balanced, focusing my growth on my specialties but not becoming a disproportionate mess like my brother is. Actually, on occasion I would check his status, and with the outrageously high mana, I can’t help but wonder why it isn’t more visible. Dad had described the deformities of unbalanced stats, but Brother wasn’t just unbalanced; his mana was outrageously offset. My standing theory is it wasn’t particularly visible because his human physique changed and wasn’t just human anymore.

  I shake my head free of distraction and hop on to Callen's latest model of copter. It’s much like his original boosted glider, working to let the user switch from gliding thrust, giving the user time to rest, but that also means forward is the only option, so this one isn’t suitable for fighting monsters unless you intend to chase them down or have them chase you. I pour in my mana and throttle the engine rapidly, getting lift off the ground. I don’t know if Callen has noticed it yet, but the further I lift off the ground, the more mana it takes to move, and it definitely isn’t just because I’m trying to accelerate. It’s like mana is weaker this far from the ground, but that doesn’t match with what I know from my brother.

  I break my ascent and level out to begin gliding over town. I peacefully enjoy the sight of pedestrians below going about their daily routines. I let myself drift over the forest. It’s been something of a hobby of mine to just see what lives in the forest, but I avoid drawing any attention as I observe from above. Plenty of monsters are capable of attacking flying targets, but typically they prefer attacking land-based creatures. The frog we hunted was an exception to that rule and part of the reason I pushed us into that fight. Practical experience with backup on hand is much safer than perceived invulnerability.

  This time I set my course northeast. If I’m careful with my mana and the winds are calm, I can reach the edge of the Fallen Forest. Dad used to tell us bedtime stories about it and the people who once lived there. The Elves' dad described them as dangerous people who live for almost ten times longer than humans. Plenty of time to reach incredible levels, and once upon a time they had been close allies of humanity. That was before the Fall. Dad said it was a giant beast from the deep sea, but Mom said she heard it was a dragon. Regardless, one day their only city was reduced to rubble, and all humanoid people learned to never keep the entirety of their people in one place.

  The survivors scattered across the woodlands, with only a select few staying in civilization. Most human cities had at least a small population of elves, but they have never truly recovered. Worse still was the refugees; most died, but those who didn’t descended into savagery, forming small tribes of feral and highly dangerous elites. People have tried to reach out to them, but the tribes kill any who approach them, even other elves.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I vaguely chuckle at the thought of a stereotypical northern barbarian in her previous life. A big man with an axe and monster pelts, and in this life the northern barbarians are slim leaf-clad elves.

  It’s nearly time to turn back, but just off the horizon I can see the Fallen Forest. The trees near our town are huge like redwoods, but they’re only saplings compared to those trees. Dad said the Wither Tree is higher level, but it can’t compare when it comes to size. Someday I want to go on an expedition out there into the ruins of the elven capital, but I think I’ll wait for my brother to build something safer.

  Suddenly I lose control. I barely have time to register the fact something has ripped off the wing from my glider. I’m spiraling towards the ground, spinning out of control, but I trigger the emergency impact shield. I bounce against the branches of the trees like a marble dropped into a bush. I bounce back and forth before I get caught in a branch some distance from the ground.

  “Shit,”

  The barrier is already at its limit, so I leap from my wreck onto a branch and immediately pull out my stealth cloak to hide against the tree. Moments later I’m glad I hid as three shimmering figures slipped across the branches and gathered around the ruins of my craft. As they stand still, I can finally make out who had gathered below.

  Obviously it was elves. I had just talked myself up about attacking that frog to break the mentality of invulnerability, but here I am flying to the edge of the territory of savage and violent tribes who specialize in ranged attacks! It was a miracle only the wing was hit. I forcefully calm my breathing down as I notice one of their ears twitch. Moments later her head snapped in my direction, scanning for something, and briefly stopped staring right at me. I can almost feel my heart pounding out of my chest as I hold my breath.

  In the next moment their gaze slips back to the leader, who is angrily pointing off towards Port Town. The other expresses disinterest, and the woman who nearly saw me mirrors that sentiment. The leader turns back huffing but takes point, leading the group back into the Fallen Forest. However, that one elf looks straight at me before she leaves. She knows, but for some reason she didn’t alert the others.

  Finally alone, I don’t feel any comfort. I was stranded in hostile territory a full day's sprint from home but more than three days out if I want to take any semblance of caution. I reach out to my brother, thanking the world for giving us this connection.

  “Callen I was shot down by elves. They left, but now I’m stranded in the forest.” I pass on memories of the flight, crash, elves, and location. Immediately I feel his concern spike and then a wave of determination.

  “Stay safe and find shelter. I’m getting Dad; we’re coming to pick you up.”

  It spins!

  Callen had taken to replacing any material he lacked with enchanted or runic substitutes. So Callen's wire sheath, instead of rubber, was made of cloth enchanted to resist shock, his newest skill obtained by accidentally touching exposed live wires. His magnets were pieces of wood with runes mimicking magnetic properties whenever near a live wire. Thus the strangest wooden, cloth, and gold-wired motor prototype spun to life. And then promptly combusted from wooden components being heated by the friction.

  Callen promptly began his happy dance as yet another component was assembled. Now he has another big step ahead, the breaking mechanism. Callen lays out his schematics and begins designing a couple different prototype designs. Meanwhile, Master Yoren almost feels like crying. How was this fair? He had taught Callen everything he knew, and now Callen was doing some strange process involving lightning and wood chips spinning. It was all just too strange, and he had to somehow pass on this knowledge to his master.

  Callen was fully willing to help Master Yoren, but the grumpy earthkin didn’t just want to copy what was said. He had pride as a teacher and craftsman. If he couldn’t figure out how Callen made the woodchips spin with his runes, how could he claim to be a worthy master! The whole ordeal was a big bundle of stress and frustration that reminded Yoren of his younger days as an apprentice.

  Callen had told him about his trait that lets him get unlimited skills, which was astounding, but what kind of fundamental deviation from base human could allow that? Well now he knew. Callen was clearly spiritually the son of the god of lightning! First he uses the lightning in someone's body to fix his dad's arms, then he seals lightning in a metal block, and now he is using lightning to make woodchips spin, but the woodchips are runed to act like loversteel! Somehow the lightning makes a metal that's drawn to other metals act in a wonky way.

  Secretly Yoren was worried if he passed on this information to the Earthkin homelands, his master might do something crazy like stealing the wedding pendants from the married Earthkin folk. Still, he didn’t dare hold back with how eagerly Callen taught him; all knowledge was precious, especially that granted by the divine!