After breakfast the following day, the lingering sll of coffee still clung to the air as I closed the house and continued feeding my core. It devoured piles of junk with a fascinating and disturbing hunger. The distant clink of tal scraps falling into the center of the heap filled the otherwise quiet yard. I pulled out the spell marble blueprints, reviewed them one by one, and settled on the Clean spell. Starting with the outer mana sh, I let my fingers trace the delicate patterns of the spellwork, feeling the slight tingle of magic as it took form in the air.
The sound of Mahya’s boots crunching across the junk drew my attention. She approached with her hands clasped behind her back, her expression curious. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of interest as her eyes flicked to the sh hovering before .
“Creating a spell marble,” I said, keeping my focus steady on the fragile construction before .
“I can see that.” She said in an annoyed tone and rolled her eyes. “What spell?” She leaned in closer, her breath warming the side of my neck, and her eyes narrowed as if scrutinizing each thread of the magic.
“Clean.”
“For ?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Yes.”
“Cool!” Her grin widened as she rested her hands on her hips. “I’m done with my cores, so keep working. I’ll cover your core with stuff.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, more to myself, as I shifted my attention back to the task at hand. The quiet scrape of tal and stone followed her as she went off to handle the endless stream of junk feeding my core.
Al arrived next, his approach slower, deliberate. “John, I need you to open your house for a short while,” he said, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on his thigh, betraying his otherwise calm deanor. “I need so equipnt from my laboratory.” His gaze shifted toward a nearby pile. “Sorry for not doing it while the house was open earlier.” His voice was apologetic. “I want to do a deeper analysis of so materials I gathered.”
I just ordered my core to open the house where it lay in a crater in the middle of a junk heap. Al made a dissatisfied grunt, but didn’t say anything. Once he had everything, I closed the house and returned to the marble. The island we’d carved out in the middle of the junkyard looked more like a workshop than a dump. A neat patch of space around was free from the surrounding chaos, and to my left, Mahya had set up workbenches cluttered with tools and half-disassembled pieces of the Jeep. The tallic scent of oil and grease hung in the air, mixing with the faint, musty sll of old tal.
Al had claid the right side, two large worktables now covered with microscopes, scales, and so gadgets I couldn’t even begin to identify. The sll of burnt tal lingered as he tinkered with a pile of broken-down materials.
Five days passed in much the sa way. The piles of junk had shrunk considerably, though the sharp, acrid sll of rust still clung to the air like a stubborn shadow. My marble was nearly complete, and I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of accomplishnt as I inspected the intricately woven mana sh and the highly complex magic script construct within it. My core, however, didn’t seem to show the sa results. Despite absorbing over twenty piles of junk, or maybe even thirty—I stopped counting at so point—it remained the sa size. I’d asured it repeatedly, but nothing had changed. I suspected it only grew from refined mana in dungeons, but I couldn’t be sure.
Mahya had dismantled the Jeep, her hands blackened with grease, though she didn’t seem to mind. Al remained engrossed in his experints, always with that intense look on his face, as if every discovery was so grand revelation. Rue continued his patrol duty, the soft padding of his paws barely noticeable as he wandered around the junkyard, occasionally letting out a low huff whenever he found another green critter to swat. Each evening, he reported back, grumbling about how none of the bugs gave him levels, as if it were a personal affront.
Finally, my marble was ready. After double-checking the details for the tenth ti, I channeled mana into it. The marble shimred, then vanished with a soft pop. My red light blinked, and the system ssage appeared before .
Congratulations, Wizard!
Through your skill, intellect, and mastery of the arcane arts, you have successfully created a new aggressive Clean spell—one that has never existed in the annals of magic. The arcane forces have recognized this extraordinary achievent.
Please na your spell to finalize its creation ______________.
Aggressive? I frowned. Since when was “Clean” aggressive?
I shrugged, figuring the system must know sothing I didn’t, and filled in the na it suggested. Aggressive Clean. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?
I cast it on myself. Instantly, it felt like I was being skinned alive. Every nerve in my body scread. My skin burned like soone had doused in acid and scrubbed with steel wool for good asure. Even the inside of my mouth felt as if soone had scrubbed it with sandpaper. My senses overloaded as pain shot through every part of .
By the ti the spell wore off, I was a wreck. My skin had peeled, large sheets sloughing off like I’d been baking in the sun for weeks. The sharp taste of tal lingered on my tongue. I spat, blinking in disbelief as small pieces of tal hit my palm. Teeth fillings? The spell had cleaned the tal right out of my teeth. I stood there, dazed, staring at the strange pile of skin and tal I’d left behind.
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Mahya and Al were staring, too—both of them wide-eyed, like they’d just witnessed a train wreck. “What just happened?” Mahya’s voice trembled slightly as she took a hesitant step forward, her nose wrinkling at the sight of my discarded skin.
“What did you do?” Al’s fingers were tapping faster now, anxiety clear in his movents as he kept glancing between and the ss.
“Uh… new Clean spell?” I muttered, trying to downplay it, but even I knew that wasn’t going to cut it.
Mahya folded her arms, her expression hardening as she shook her head. “I don’t think I want to use it,” she said dryly. “Not unless I want to shed my skin like a snake.”
Al nodded in agreent, still fidgeting.
My skin felt raw and sensitive, as if sobody had scrubbed it with sandpaper. I had to cast Healing Touch twice just to get rid of the burning sensation. Even after that, the discomfort lingered, making wince with every movent—not from pain, but like my body was on edge, bracing for more.
But my teeth… that was another story. I could feel the tiny, jagged holes where the fillings used to be, sharp and unnatural. My tongue, of course, kept poking at them, like it had a mind of its own, prodding at the gaps relentlessly.
Desperate, I went through my usual healing spells, trying to fix the damage, but nothing worked. Heal Bone? Nothing. Regrow Flesh? Still nothing. Each failure only made more frustrated, my tongue relentless in its mission to poke at the holes in my teeth.
“I need a shower,” I muttered, feeling every inch of my skin tingling unpleasantly as I made my way up to my room. The gritty texture of dead skin clung to , making the sensation even worse. When I undressed, skin flakes fell from my clothes like so bizarre snowfall, collecting on the floor in a fine layer. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Once the hot water hit, the discomfort faded slightly. The warmth helped ease the burning sensation that still clung to like an afterimage. But no matter how much I scrubbed, the feeling that my skin had been through a war didn’t completely disappear.
By the ti I was done, I was mostly back to normal, though my clothes weren’t as lucky. I channeled Restore into my jeans and t-shirt. The fabric rippled under the magic, nding itself. The frayed knees of my jeans stitched themselves back together, and the wear and tear vanished. My t-shirt, once wrinkled and faded, now looked practically new.
But despite all that, the color didn’t return. The fabric stayed that dull beige and off-white, as if the life had been permanently drained from it. No amount of magic was going to bring back the rich blue of my jeans or the black of my t-shirt. Annoyed, I fed the lifeless clothes to the house, watching them vanish, and pulled out a fresh set of clothes.
The only silver lining was that the spell hadn’t taken my hair this ti—not that I had much to begin with, but still. I ran a hand over my scalp, relieved to feel the familiar stubble.
I stayed in my room for a few hours, pacing and frowning, trying to figure out how to fix my teeth. Based on what I did in Shimoor when I healed a lady from cancer, I split my mind and cast Heal Bone and Regrow Flesh at the sa ti, hoping for a better result. It didn’t work. I cursed under my breath. I had a lot of knowledge about dicine, sure, but teeth? That was a different beast altogether. My tongue kept finding the empty spaces, poking at them with growing frustration.
Annoyed, I decided to dig deeper. Heading to the library, I searched the shelves, hoping sothing in my collection could offer a solution. After what felt like hours of flipping through irrelevant books, I finally stumbled upon a dentist’s textbook. I skimd through it and quickly realized sothing important—teeth aren’t bones. They’re made of enal, dentin, and pulp, completely different from what I’d been working with. No wonder Heal Bone wasn’t fixing anything.
With a sigh, I knew I needed to create sothing new—I didn’t have a spell for regrowing enal yet and didn’t want to buy one. After so deliberation, I attempted to use my Spell Weaver ability. The problem was I had no idea how to use it. Four more hours passed in utter failure, and I couldn’t help but wish I had a sentient dungeon guardian to help pull it off on instinct or panic like I’d managed in the past. I needed to create sothing from scratch, which would not be easy.
Finally, after an eternity of trial and error, I began to make sense of it. I realized that instead of focusing on casting Heal Bone and Regrow Flesh like before, I needed to hold the concepts of what I was aiming to create—sothing like Enal. It wasn’t about the individual spells anymore. I had to imagine the makeup of teeth in their entirety—enal, dentin, everything—and channel mana through those concepts as one.
It took a ridiculous amount of concentration, far more than I anticipated. Holding two thoughts simultaneously in my mind in the sa partition was nearly impossible, and more than two gave mind spasms. If I hadn’t had the Mind Split ability to guide , I would’ve given up. After more trial and error, I finally started making progress. The magic I channeled felt different this ti, like I was on the edge of sothing new.
Though I wasn’t completely done—there was still a long road ahead to mastering this—I could feel the jagged gaps in my teeth smoothing out, just slightly. It wasn’t perfect, but the beginnings of Regrow Enal were there. I let out a deep breath, exhausted but encouraged.
Now I understood why I received that pompous ssage when I first unlocked Spell Weaver. This was definitely a wizard-only ability, and an advanced one at that. I shook my head, marveling at how complex it all was, but at least I finally managed to make progress in fixing my teeth.
My red light was blinking.
You have learned the spell [Regrow Bone]
Still blinking.
You have learned the spell [Regrow Enal]
And it was still blinking.
Level up
3 intelligence, 3 wisdom, 2 vitality, 3 free points
Class: Healer Level 13
Stat points: 3
Well, it had been a harrowing experience, but it was worth it in the end. I let out a deep breath, feeling exhaustion and satisfaction. At least my Strength stat got the free points—it was the lowest, after all, and needed the boost. After taking care of the admin stuff, I focused on the final task at hand. Carefully, I cast Regrow Enal on each tooth in turn, feeling the familiar flow of mana as the jagged gaps slowly filled in. Tooth by tooth, I worked my way back to normal, and when I was done, I ran my tongue over my teeth. No more holes. It felt good.
Curious, I checked my profile and saw my new Aggressive Clean spell listed under Wizard Spells. For a brief second, I seriously considered finding a way to delete it from my repertoire—it wasn’t exactly a spell I planned to use often. But then I rembered the behemoth. The ntal image of all the junk embedded in its hide being stripped away and its most effective weapon—its horrific stench—disappearing was too amusing to ignore. I snickered, imagining the confused look on the beast’s face as its foul aura vanished.
Maybe Aggressive Clean had its uses after all.
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