CHAPTER 112: MISTY STAFF

The flow came quickly, his mana rushing from his core to fulfill his request, before petering out, causing no effect.

Charon gritted his teeth.

’I hate learning new abilities, my body just won’t make them work right!’

It was an unfortunate reality. Every new spell a mage learned was like practicing a new style of combat. Your mind might know what it wants to do, but your body lacks the muscle memory. You need to practice and refine it if you want to see results.

He took a calming breath, forcing himself not to lose focus.

’Patience is a virtue. I just need to keep at it. I should ask Emerius and Darius to help me practice my abilities more. I’ve been neglecting them while working on my scythe skills, carelessly assuming my skeletons would be strong enough.’

The ease with which he summoned his undead and earned the Colossus Machine had caused him to become somewhat complacent. As far as he was concerned, this was a cardinal sin, as magic was the most potent strength in the universe.

Closing his eyes, he readied himself. He felt the waves of mana in his core, his summons floating in that sea like tiny ships, waiting for his call. He knew if he wanted, he could make them appear at any moment.

Ignoring that feeling, he focused instead on the roiling ball of energy. Mentally reaching out, he grabbed it and tried to funnel it into his hands. It moved easily, climbing to his shoulder before rocketing down his arms. Once there, it collected into a smaller sphere before dispersing, the mana returning to his core.

Instead of being disappointed, Charon grinned, happy that at least this part was coming easily.

’The rest can wait. I need a better grasp on my fundamentals first.’

He repeated the exercise multiple times, each attempt lasting a minute. Every time he did it, it came easier, flowed faster, felt more malleable.

Like he was a sculptor with clay, he used his hands to knead the material into the shape he desired, allowing its natural properties to dictate how much pressure he exerted.

Only once he felt confident that he could complete the cycle fluidly did he allow himself to move on. He repeated the name of the ability he wanted to use in his mind, allowing every syllable to roll around.

He mused on its meanings and intent, trying to comprehend the power behind the magic, although he knew he wouldn’t glean anything except memorization of the name.

After that, he summoned the ability’s information.

[Ability Name: Mists of Sorrow]

[Ability Element: Mist]

[Ability Description: Allow the mists of Achlys’ domain to take form, creating a thousand different tools for any job. Create weapons, ladders, or shields, whatever the caster’s heart desires. Beware, all who oppose the Demi-goddess of the Mists, for within her creations you shall find sadness, the same she has been burdened with.]

’This should allow me to create items from mist, but I should start simple, with a staff.’

Charon pictured the item. A long pale rod, three feet from base to tip. It held no designs or embellishments, being a simple, rounded item.

He repeated the ability name while holding that image in his mind, pairing the two. Once he finished, he attempted to do all three at once.

The mana flowed from his chest into his palm while he focused on the ability name, keeping the staff clear.

Still, despite all of his preparations, the spell refused to ignite, the mist remaining perfectly still around him.

His fists clenched in rage as he huffed and spun around, wishing he had something to hit.

’Gods damn it, what am I missing?’

The Warden answered him.

’Intent.’

Charon blinked, his body freezing as an embarrassed smile crossed his lips.

’Oh, yeah.’

It was the same lesson he learned early on when using his Soul Summon ability for the first time. It wasn’t enough to know the spell; you had to weave your intent and willpower throughout the casting, or else it wouldn’t be able to complete.

’I knew that, yet I didn’t think of it. Sometimes I worry I’m not very bright.’

He tried to ignore that self-deprecating comment for the moment.

Charon steadied himself, shaking off the sting of his earlier failure.

’Alright, intent. Not just the name, not just the image. I have to mean it. I have to want it, like I can’t live without it.’

He lifted his hand again, the pale crown faintly pulsing against his scalp, as though it too waited for him to get this right. Closing his eyes, he didn’t just picture the staff; he imagined holding it, relying on it, striking enemies down with it.

He imagined the weight in his hand, the cool smoothness of the shaft, the way it would anchor his stance in battle.

His memories flicked to Wallflower, how she taught him to keep hold of his scythe no matter what. He let that emotion fuel his desire, replacing the scythe with his staff.

This time, when he drew mana from his core, he let his frustration bleed into it, tempering it into focus. He pushed the feeling outward, as though he were speaking to the mist himself.

’This is what I want. I want the mist to create a staff for me.’

At first, nothing changed. Then, a ripple.

Mana dripped from his palm, an invisible energy that connected all things. It drifted into the air, clinging to the mist and bending it. Slowly, almost agonizingly, it coalesced in front of him.

It built itself from the ground up, each segment taking multiple seconds to manifest.

Eventually, however, a staff did indeed spring into existence. It wasn’t as smooth as he imagined, and was a few inches short of three feet, but it was his first time, gods damnit!

Charon grabbed it and gave a tentative swing. It was light, almost too light, and the tip quivered faintly like it might dissolve at any moment. Still, it existed, and that alone was victory.

’Finally.’

He exhaled sharply, a smile tugging at his lips.

’I made something. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought! If I just give it a good amount of focus, I should be able to master all of Achlys’ abilities! It’d be like there are two of us at any time.’

He spun it once for good measure, the item barely holding itself together. The ends wavered, like a wave of water ready to crash.

He felt his control waver, the staff disbanding into a puff of mist.

’Wait, no! I didn’t want that to happen! What the hell!’

Achlys’ voice sounded from over his shoulder, her tone somewhat impressed.

"Do not fret, boy. For someone who earned this power only minutes ago, it is impressive to see you utilizing it at all. It took my other summoners weeks to begin."

Her words made him jump; her body was way too close for comfort. He raised a hand to his chest to steady his beating heart.

"Gods almighty, did you have to come so close?"

She didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at where his staff once was. Her gaze belied nothing, mostly due to the vagueness of her features.

Charon exhaled sharply as he considered her words.

"Thanks. It would’ve gone faster except I forgot to remember to utilize my intent as well. It’s good to know I’m not behind on magic, at least."

She nodded.

"Truly a Novice mistake, yet you are the fitting rank to make such blunders. You may lack knowledge, but you possess a talent with the mystic arts. If this is actualized, you could prove greater than my expectations."

Her compliment brought a smile to his face, a much-needed moment of levity after everything he had experienced the past few days.

’No, not days. Weeks. Ever since the Elves invaded, my life has been hectic. I just want it to calm down, if only for a little while.’

Turning around to face the cave’s exit, he flashed Achlys a curious look.

"Now that I think about it, I’ve been away from my friends for gods knows how long. Is there anything you need to finish up here before I can rejoin them?"

The demi-god faced the altar, her hand raising as if to touch it one last time before pausing. She sighed and looked back at him.

"No. I am finished here. Your companions couldn’t have gone far. I will be able to sense them within the mist."

Achlys stepped past him.

"Follow me, boy."