The Talk

Notebook out, he scribbled down his observations before testing his new class skills.

Spirit Sense overlaid a ghostly vision onto his mind—low-resolution outlines of objects, hazy glimpses through cover, and clusters where spirits lingered. The range was short, the strain sharp, but it was workable.

‘Being able to see through and around objects is pretty neat. I wish the image was clearer but that will hopefully improve with time.’

Mana Sense, by contrast, revealed the flow of mana itself—cold threads in shadows, warm streams under sunlight, and subtle pressure differences across the terrain. Distinct from Spirit Sight, but complementary, both having a similar essence.

‘I was a little worried it would be too similar to Magic Echolocation; I spent so long yesterday getting that magic working.’ The memory of yesterday’s anguish flashed—attempt and failure, one and the same: he sent mana out in a pulse; on contact it reflected and formed an image in his mind.

In the end, he had to settle for using more mana than he wanted, and even more to act as a middleman to process said information. Taking a deep sigh, he kept the skill active, observing all its unique properties.

‘At least I can now see both spirits and mana. It doesn’t have the same night-vision properties, but it may help in a pinch if I position myself in a spot of higher mana density to regenerate my reservoir faster.’

He spent the rest of the morning practicing elemental magic. Fireballs, lightning charges, water barriers—all noticeably stronger, smoother, and more efficient with his new passive affinity skills: Elemental Affinity, and Control Elements.

Disappointingly, non-traditional elemental magic like concrete creation was unaffected. Satisfied enough, he moved on from skill testing to the real challenge: creating a new skill entirely.

The concept was simple—form a film across his body that could shift appearance, camouflage, and maybe gain other traits. The execution, however, was brutally difficult, and as he progressed, it looked impossible within a reasonable time.

The first attempts dissolved instantly into the air. Later tries produced fragile, glass-like layers that shattered into shards of mana, stinging his arm raw.

Hours of frustration yielded his best attempt yet: a crude scale-like coating clinging to his forearm.

Each scale demanded constant mana and spirit, draining him rapidly, but when filled, it blurred his arm into the background. Crude and fragile, but progress nonetheless.

The drain was enormous. Every collapse left his skin pink and stinging, his mana bleeding out like a leak in a dam. Still, by midday, after nearly seven hours of trial and error, he attempted a live test.

Hidden in a tree, he activated the film on his arm as a hobgoblin patrol passed beneath. One paused, sniffing upward toward his position. Sweat trickled, but the camouflage held. The goblins moved on.

The skill collapsed the moment his mind relaxed, shattering into misty fragments. He exhaled slowly, letting the pain ease, then dropped the creatures with arrows from behind.

Again and again, he hunted, tested, and grinded away, each fight edging him closer. By sunset, a dozen hobgoblin corpses carpeted the forest floor. Exhausted but grinning, Joseph slumped against a tree and checked his new skill.

Adaptive Film (C) – A scale-like film covers the user, consuming mana and spirit to sustain. The film may be imbued with distinct properties. Current property: Camouflage.

‘Ugh, finally. It’s been a bastard to get, but with this I feel at least a bit more confident attempting some more rewarding hunts. God damn though… my head is fucking killing me.’ Clutching his head, he stumbled his way out of the forest, vacating the area before he overstayed his welcome.

Heading back to the house, he saw most of his group out in the garden training—including Tokko, whose body already looked noticeably healthier. Che was practicing her magic against a target, with a little flying creature hovering around, laughing and mocking her while also giving a few tips.

Han and Logan were sparring, refining their techniques, while Tokko sat near Duranta in light meditation. A pale green hue surrounded her, visible only through Joseph’s Spirit Sight.

Pleased that Tokko was training on her own and looking visibly healthier, he started to get his hopes up she could soon be useful. Leaving her be, he grabbed some food and sat on a bench, watching and thinking.

After a few short minutes, Tokko opened her eyes and let out an emotion-filled breath. Then, as if with a sixth sense, she suddenly sprang up and turned to look at him. Pausing mid-bite, he continued eating, slightly startled by the sudden reaction.

She hurried over and hovered awkwardly, struggling with whether to sit, stand, or speak. Swallowing his food, Joseph broke the silence.

“You look healthier today. Did Duranta use magic or something?”

She gave a hesitant nod, almost as if worried how he’d react to someone else helping her. He shifted over on the bench, making space so she could sit.

“Did he give any sort of diagnosis, or say when you’ll be fit enough to train?”

Her reply came quicker, with more energy in her voice. “He said maybe about seven days. But I feel good! So, I can start now for sure!”

Giving her a side-eye, Joseph shut it down immediately.

“Starting a week earlier or later makes no difference in the long run. No point rushing. Besides, working on your mind and skills is just as important as the physical side. You’ve been working on that, right?”

With a firm nod, she listed her progress. When she went back to meditating, Joseph got up, catching Han’s eye across the garden. Han noticed instantly, and with a nod joined him under a tree at the edge of the grounds.

With a faint smile, Han sat down. “I’m surprised how patient you’ve been. Honestly thought you’d keep me up all night with questions.”

Joseph’s face stayed flat. “I’m as patient as required. I already had enough information from our cryptic talks on the way here, so there was no rush. But now that we’ve got downtime? That patience isn’t needed.”

“Fair enough.” Han gestured outward. “Ask away.”

Joseph didn’t waste it as they spoke back and forth.

“Did you plan for this?”

“This as in?”

“Guild. Location. Cover story. Stuff like that.”

Han hesitated, conflicted. “Kind of. Ending up here was pure chance—I honestly don’t know why or how. It was always the goal to eventually come here, just… not this soon.”

“So you didn’t end up here last time?”

Han’s expression soured. “No. Last time was… very different. It’s a bitter story, not one for now. Maybe I’ll tell you over drinks another time. I ended up outside a small town back then.”

“And the others? If it’s random, why’d we all stick together, but the earlier group got scattered?”

“I already told you about the invisible party system, I believe it’s most likely because of that. Admins may have been involved as well, but I can’t say for sure.”

“Admins?”

Han nodded. “Part of the system. Nobody knows if they’re entities, laws, or just the system itself. History’s been chasing proof forever. All we have are legends and theories.”

Joseph absorbed it but didn’t push further. “Fine. What about the guild? Just the important stuff.”

Han exhaled. “…It’s complicated. As for why we joined—”

“Personal reasons?” Joseph cut in, expression deadpan.

Han gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”

“I don’t care, so long as it’s not a detriment.”

Relieved, Han leaned forward again. “Then here’s the important part. The guild’s already in rough shape. I wish I could say it improves soon, but it doesn’t. There’s a traitor here. I don’t know who, don’t know how, but right after the kingdom’s guild contest, a huge event nearly wipes this place out.”

“That’s it? Just ‘traitor’ and ‘big event eventually’?”

Han winced. “…Yeah.”

“When’s this contest?”

“Soon. I don’t know exactly. Within a month, I hope.”

Joseph sighed. “Fine. I’ll help as much as I can, but let’s be real—it’s unlikely we can do much. They’re stronger than us, and we don’t even know who we’re looking for. And I doubt they see us as part of the guild yet.”

They both looked over the guild house, Joseph’s eyes narrowing on one figure. “Duranta. You know much about him?”

“Of course. He’s one of the guild’s strongest. As a druid, he’s got his niches. Whenever there’s trouble, he’s first call.” Han confidently looked to Duranta, then to Joseph noticing his expression.

“You suspect him?” Han asked, startled.

Joseph didn’t deny it. “I distrust people who are overly nice. You don’t survive in this world without either raw power or underhanded tactics. Usually both. That—and I don’t like how the spirits act around him… they look forced.”

Han didn’t argue—he couldn’t see spirits himself—but he wasn’t convinced Duranta was suspicious. They moved on, question after question, until the topic shifted.

“Oh, right,” Han said, “How did spirit summoning go? Tried it yet?”

Joseph’s lips curled slightly. “Yeah. Some wind bird full of itself appeared. Begged near the end, muttering about ‘closing doors.’ Any idea?”

Han thought carefully. “If it begged, it probably doesn’t have a contract. Low-grade spirits need contracts to sustain themselves. The spirit realm treats them like… vermin, figuratively speaking. Without a contract, they eventually fade. Higher-ranked ones don’t have that problem.”

“So even if it’s strong, it dies without help? Because the spirit world itself is hostile?”

“Both, I think. But I’m no expert. Only a few races really understand the spirit realm—and they don’t share much.”

Joseph nodded slowly. “Tips then? I can apparently hold four spirits.”

Han shook his head and shrugged. “Not really. Low-grade ones vary endlessly. Unless something just clicks, don’t rush. Wait until the skill ranks up or we come across more information.

Thalia, one of the other guild members may have some information. She’s an elf so she naturally has an affinity with spirits, but she rarely leaves her room unless it’s for a mission or something important.”

Joseph made a note of the name, then remembered something. “Oh yeah. What the fuck’s with this cover story? ‘Lost,’ forgetting home, all that crap. Why keep it vague? Che and Logan played along, but that was a risk.”

Han frowned. “Cover story? Joseph, it’s not a cover. We… really are forgetting. Do you not realize?”

Joseph stared at him like he’d gone stupid. “What do you mean? Obviously, I remember earth, it wasn’t that long ago. My last meal was a burger, I was watching a film, talking to friends. Are you getting collective dementia or something?”

Han’s tone was quiet but firm. “We don’t remember any of that. For me, it’s like a dream. If someone reminds me, it flickers back—but then it’s gone, forever. That’s what being ‘lost’ means.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “…You said dream, right? That’s how it feels for you? Like Earth was a dream, and this is real?”

Han nodded.

‘That’s… interesting.’ Joseph didn’t speak his full thought, just shrugged. “Fine. If you’re really losing your memories, I’ll keep it in mind. I remember everything, so it doesn’t affect me. For now, just keep me in the loop when it matters.”

Han gave a strained smile and stood to leave. Joseph leaned back against the tree, overlooking the guild grounds, lost in thought.