A Jaded Life

Chapter 1343

For a few seconds after the symbiote integrated into Waylon’s body, he just knelt there, his eyes staring off into the void, unseeing and unfocused. Just as I was about to start worrying, he startled a little, his eyes focusing on me, and, for just a moment, I began to worry about the look in them. Then, that look faded away, making me wonder if I had merely imagined it, but I made sure to remember that moment, just in case there was more to it.

“How do you feel?” I asked, while also extending my magical senses to check if I could spot any issues.

“This is incredible,” he quietly admitted, his voice filled with an overwhelming awe. “Do you always feel like this?”

“As I don’t know how exactly you feel right now, I can’t truly answer that. But I would assume that your current state is mostly caused by the influx of Astral Power, and you’ll soon get used to it. Essentially, your magical power just went up by multiple orders of magnitude. A bit of euphoria is to be expected,” I paused for a moment, considering the situation, “I doubt it’s going to last.”

“What can I do with the magic?” he instantly asked, apparently planning to use that newfound power as much as possible, as if it were about to fade. Not that the power would fade; he would just get used to it.

“Good question,” I admitted, “Usually, people develop their own way of using magic, at least when it comes to the details. Sure, most follow similar paths, but there are outliers. Unsurprisingly, most paths are inspired and informed by natural occurrences of their element, but that’s to be expected,” I shrugged, before shaking my head to clear away those thoughts.

“That generally happens because everyone’s affinity is a little different, as is the way their minds work. However, I doubt that’s going to work for you, as you aren’t really using your own power. At least not primarily. Right now, you are primarily using my power and only a limited portion of the symbiote’s maximum capacity. You’ll have to raise your Charisma in the long run, as that strengthens your presence, your ego, if you will. That way, you can channel more of the symbiote’s power without it overwhelming your sense of self,” I paused once more, looking him over, “You don’t want that to happen,” I warned, my voice as grave as necessary to make him see my point.

“So that’s why the system calls me a Warlock,” he quietly admitted, looking just a little shaken.

“You’ve got messages?” I couldn’t help but grin, curious what the system made of this, “Would you care to share?” I asked, though my tone made it clear that this wasn’t a request. Not that I needed it to be, Waylon belonged to me, lock, stock and barrel. Or Mind, Soul and Body, I just hadn’t bothered to stake my complete claim. And probably wouldn’t, I had no interest in providing for a slave.

For the next few minutes, Waylon and I discussed the numerous notifications he had received, with me pondering their possible meaning in a broader context. Overall, it sounded fairly simple. Waylon, as a Warlock, was able to draw upon power normally unavailable to him, thanks to the blessing of his patron. It wasn’t a class, not within the system’s logic. Instead, it was a trait that granted him certain benefits, but his growth would remain gated by his actual class.

The benefits he gained were, unsurprisingly, centred around magic, though there were no actual techniques involved. Whether that was due to my Sorcerer-class, which also didn’t come with techniques of its own, or due to some other reason, I wasn’t sure. But it would be interesting to see what he could accomplish with a little training.

We’d have to try to integrate his newly gained magical abilities with his original class, a fairly basic flavour of fighter. Nothing special, just what the system labelled someone who gained a few levels without showing any outstanding abilities. Apparently, he had received the class shortly after the change, just trying to survive, but hadn’t done a whole lot with it.

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“Well, we’ll have to test what you can do,” I decided, briefly studying him to ascertain just how much power he could currently access. It didn’t look like he’d have enough to trash my tower, but I wasn’t about to take that risk, so I dragged him outside into the quarry.

There, I conjured up a few stone training dummies and told him to go wild.

His first attempts were rather clumsy. Apparently, his entire experience fighting was with basic weapons, essentially clubs from more or less sophisticated materials, maybe a longer stick or two. Nothing special, nothing interesting, driving home just how important community was. Otherwise, he’d likely have been killed and eaten by something bigger or smarter. As things were, his survival had largely been due to fortunate coincidences and a good dollop of luck.

After a few attempts at wailing on the dummies with a club, he took a step back and asked me to conjure a club made of ice for him. Curious if that would change anything, I did just that, even making the thing out of Hard Ice, just to give him the best possible opportunity. He weighed it for a few seconds, making me realise that he apparently had gained enough resistance to ice and the cold to wield a weapon like this. Or maybe he was just a dedicated and willing to endure discomfort to experiment. Or a masochist, that was possible, too.

As it turned out, the difference in material was a significant factor. His first strike was still somewhat clumsy, but the one after that showed a big difference when a flare of power erupted from the Ice Club as it impacted the dummy, coating it in a thick layer of rime. If the dummy had been human, he’d have some serious issues; something a fairly loud cracking sound drove home when the dummy itself broke from the temperature shock.

“Whoa,” Waylon gasped, staring at the broken dummy.

“Not bad,” I nodded, “Think you can do that without the physical whack?” I asked, curious if ranged attacks would be possible for him.

He took a few steps back and, to my amusement, started to swing the Ice Club at empty air. Maybe he was hoping to simply follow his previous steps and somehow launch the attack, but it didn’t seem to work. Eventually, he let out an angry growl, let go of the club with one hand and just pushed that other hand forward, palm open as if he was pushing back the air. I was just about to laugh at the rather clumsy image, but then the laughter died in my throat, never seeing the light of day.

Because Waylon had somehow managed to launch a blast of something from his hand. It was Ice Astral Power, that much was obvious, but it took me a moment to realise that he hadn’t formed it into a concept. Any concept, it was, as far as I could tell, nothing but power, channelled with aggression and directed to destroy.

And destroy it did.

Just like it had earlier, when he had struck the dummy with his club, the dummy was engulfed in rime, with a faint cloud of mist rising up around it as the air itself was chilled. It was fairly impressive for his level, though he was already breathing a little hard, making me wonder how many of those he would be able to cast. Regardless, the number would likely go up with training, so it didn’t matter how much he could do now, not when the future was much more interesting.

A part of me was curious what this type of attack would look like with a different element. Would they all form into something similar, or would a Fire Symbiote create some sort of fiery cloud? Or maybe Earth, though given that Ice hadn’t formed any solid projectiles, I doubted Earth would either.

Still, it was a curious discovery, making me wonder what else Waylon could accomplish with that power running through his system. And what other people would think, given that he had suddenly rather fancy eyes.

“Well, that’s something,” I complimented, a grin on my face. “But I believe we should keep testing. I doubt this is all there is to your new abilities. And unless we can get you to use that melee blast with a different weapon, I’ll have to make sure you can conjure up a weapon out of Ice, or you’ll get into trouble. That thing won’t last forever.”

For a moment, he just stared, first at his hand, then his target, and finally at me. It looked like the fact that he was now truly able to wield magic was sinking in.

Teaching him more would undoubtedly be quite interesting. Even if I had a feeling he wouldn’t really learn the fundamentals, just a few practical tricks, which was a bit of a shame.