Adamant Blood

Mark threw up in the bathroom down the hall and then he washed his mouth out a few times as he stared in the mirror. Had he really interrupted Priestess Lola? Had Addashield called him ‘boy’? FUCK. Oh fuck he had fucked up so ba—

Mark made it back to the toilet just before he puked again. After a steadying moment, he went back to the sink and washed his mouth out. Again. He was the only one in the bathroom, and he was glad for that.

With a stare into the mirror, Mark settled his nerves as best he could. A few water splashes on the face helped clear away the redness in his eyes, and then he dried his face with scratchy paper towels and walked out into the hallway.

The door to the full scan room was over there, to the right, while the hallway ahead of him had a few benches sitting against the wall, facing the windows. Mark sat down and looked out across the campus. Anything to take his mind off of what was happening behind that door over there.

Orange Arcanaeum was a whole bunch of coliseum-sized towers, set here and there, with grass hills and stone walkways scattered between them all. The curtain wall in the far distance looked more like a steady rise of grass than any real wall, but that was just the inside-view of the wall. The outside of the wall was an overhang of a stone cliff.

Beyond that lay the city, with much more normal high-rises and otherwise.

Mark imagined taking classes here.

Of becoming one of the students that walked between classes, robes on their bodies and chatter with their friends surrounding them. Addashield had said that if Mark didn’t want his full adamantiumkinesis Talent option, that he would get a full arcanaeum scholarship due to his family history with a family business that was dependent on specific magics.

“I suppose that’s not a bad consolation prize,” Mark said, feeling giddy about a full ride.

Mark definitely wanted the metalkinesis option. A full Talent was better than a whole bunch of different, 10% strength magics. Or at least that’s what common wisdom told him. A full Talent in metalkinesis and healing magics, through Freyala? That was the stuff of dreams. That was the stuff upon which the center of an adventuring team could be founded.

Did people with two Talents even exist?

They must!

Holy shit!

If Mark ended up getting this Addashield option, then he could party with Sally, and the two of them could go see the world together. Sally would probably try to find a girlfriend to bring into the team, and that was fine, but Mark would need to get a fourth person just so he didn’t feel like a third wheel.

Sally would probably make good decisions about a girlfriend, and she wouldn’t take just anyone, so what would that girlfriend’s power look like? What would best support the team?

… What would they already have going for them? Sally would be a brawny with War magics, and Mark would be a kineticist with Healing magics, so a third person would be… Some sort of support? A technopath? Or a telepath? Or maybe—

Oh!

Mark would make some contacts through this Addashield-business, for sure, so maybe some noble that wanted to tag along and who fell in love with Sally? Sure. That seemed reasonable. So maybe that increased the available level of possible third persons. Maybe the third person could be, like…

A Seer.

Oh oh oh! A Seer! YES!

Those were pretty rare and very useful. Incredibly useful.

So yeah. A Seer as a third person.

Who would Mark get as a fourth, though?

Mark stared at the ceiling, thinking, and so very desperately trying not to think about how he might have screwed up absolutely everything, and how Addashield might deny him his full ride as a second option.

Focus on the possible good, Mark!

A while later, Mark wasn’t quite sure, the door opened to the full scan room.

Mark’s entire world focused back to the present as he once again saw Priestess Lola and Archmage Addashield standing there. He hopped to his feet and stood ready for whatever.

Lola said, “Do not be charmed by the words of demons, spit through the mouths of archmages, Mark Careed. This will hurt. It will change your entire life. You will not have other options after this. Do you still choose this path of metal and healing?”

The world condensed down to the only path that Mark wanted to walk, and then all the rest that he cast away.

Mark resolutely said, “I choose the path of Metal and Healing, roused through pain and solidified through the Awakening of the Tutorial.”

Mark had thought those words were pretty good.

Addashield seemed to approve, since an eyebrow ticked up a little.

Lola was more reserved. “Your resolve, while commendable, will harm you. You are aware that Archmage Addashield, though he is an avowed Hero of Humanity, is using you? That he needs to fulfill a contract with his demon, this year, in the next five months?”

“I am aware of that,” Mark said.

“You are under Curtain Protocol. This will rip some of that, then repair the Curtain, seeding the stage for what Addashield wants. That ripping is dangerous. With great luck, you will go into the Tutorial merely weakened, your body mostly healed from the mana alignment that Archmage Addashield wishes done today. You will not be at your best, and Addashield will not save you in the Tutorial, should you need saving. His agreements with Malaqua to enter the Tutorial space do not allow him to rescue the people he accompanies.”

Mark let her say what she needed to say, but both of them knew she wasn’t swaying him at all. When she was done, Mark still stood resolute. The fact that everyone knew what Addashield was doing was dangerous and improper, but that they were still letting it happen, let Mark know that this was okay. On some level, this was okay. This letting some country bumpkin sign his life up with the Archmage was an acceptable level of risk to all involved.

Mark wasn’t naive, thinking that the people above him in the social pecking order were saints, or anything. People in power were just as likely to fuck him over as anyone else, really. Or at least that’s what the stories said.

But he trusted a Hero of Humanity.

Mark said, “I trust that at the end of this, when I complete the Tutorial, I’ll get Adamantiumkinesis and Healing magics, or just Metalkinesis and some Chosen duties required of me by Freyala. I don’t really care about whatever political things are happening past that.”

Lola looked ready to say something—

Addashield spoke up first, “And you’ll visit the demons I show to you, and you’ll deny them, or make your own pact that mirrors my own. That’s what I’m doing this for, Mark. That’s what you have to ultimately agree to do for me. If we get to the end of this and you succeed, then I’m dragging you in front of them and you won’t like it if I have to drag you.”

Lola’s eyes remained on Mark, though she was giving Addashield a pretty stern side-eye.

Mark asked, “I assume it takes a lot more than a meeting and talking to do the demonic-pact thing that archmages do? I really don’t know anything about that.”

“It’s a summoning circle sort of thing,” Addashield said. “You have that sort of idea in your shows over here, I know you do. What I do is open the portal with a binding agreement circle, using the same wordings and otherwise of my own Contract, which is on record in Archmage Hall in Temple— I think you have it on the internet over here. The demons gather in the circle, begging you to take them, and unless you cross the circle of your own, purposeful initiative, the demons cannot bind with you. Demons lie about everything to get a physical body, and— And we’ll go over all of that closer to go-time. It’s a whole big lesson. One of many I will be giving you and three other applicants, so far.”

Lola bristled. Her calm demeanor shattered, her eyes glinting gold. “Three others?!”

“Yup,” Addashield said, unrepentant. Lola seemed about ready to say something unkind, or furious, but Addashield glared in the lightest, darkest of ways, and Lola pulled back, as though she had been slapped without being actually slapped. Addashield’s tone changed to something filled with warning, “I have needed to do this before and I do not doubt I will need to do this again, but I would prefer this kid to have an anchor in his life that is not me, for when this is over and my duty is discharged, he will need some sort of guidance that is not me. What better guidance is there than Freyala? Now! Do you want a possible High Paladin in this boy? Or should I contact Hearthswell?”

Lola was still, quiet.

Mark was breathless. A paladin? The centerpiece of all adventuring teams out on Daihoon? The killers of kaiju? And even some dragons? That was so much better than an adamantium mage, or whatever it was he was going to be, thanks to Addashield. That was amaz—

Addashield looked to Mark. “Pick a different god. This one isn’t helping us—”

“Freyala will do this,” Lola said. “I… I just need a minute to pray.”

“That’s fine. I need a minute to explain some things to Mark.” Addashield thumbed at the door while looking at Mark. “Inside.”

Mark went inside the room and Lola went somewhere else. Maybe he could have seen where she went, but he was kinda nervous again.

- - - -

Mark sat on a chair in front of Addashield, who stood two meters away. Because of Addashield’s instructions, Mark had his knees slightly open, with his hands on his knees and palms facing upward.

“I’m going to teach you a bit about magic, and you are going to listen, and then I’m going to close the Curtain again and let the seed lay in fertile soil,” Addashield said, as he pulled back the sleeves of his black robes.

Black metal bracers held on his forearms, like solid wraps of darkness. Mark could only tell they were metal because they reflected the lights of the room in small ways when the light hit them just right.

Mark had read up on Addashield before this meeting. Exact information beyond the public sphere was rare, but Addashield’s Powers were documented and categorized. His magic was rather well known, too, but all of those internet searches had come up with the standard warning for magic-learning; don’t read any more if you’re under 18. Mark had been so very tempted to read more, but he pulled back from that edge.

So all Mark really knew were Addashield’s lists of accomplishments. He routinely eradicated kaiju-level threats against Orange City and other cities all across this world and Daihoon, and he regularly chased off dragons, which were like kaijus but with a brain. His magic was esoteric and varied, but he was primarily a metalkinetic, and his preferred metal was adamantium.

Adamantium was a hard black metal. The hardest, blackest metal in the two worlds, actually.

Black adamantium swirled upon Addashield’s left bracer and the tiniest drop lifted up, forming a fingernail-sized marble. Addashield hovered the marble over his open palm, and the marble shifted into a star, then a wireframe box, then a circle, and then a needle. It shifted endlessly, into shapes and bubbles and abstract burbles of strange geometries. Mark stared at the burbling, at the shapes, and felt weirdly entranced.

“Tell me the first thing you know about magic,” Addashield instructed.

Mark thought as fast as he could. “It’s limited.”

“Incorrect. Tell me another thing you know.”

Mark struggled under that first fact. Magic wasn’t limited? What? Perhaps he would have continued to think about that, but Addashield’s eyes burned into him, drawing Mark’s attention away from the geometric designs of floating metal, and Mark tried to think again.

Mark said, “Using magic weakens you.”

“Incorrect. Tell me another thing you know.”

Mark breathed in sharply. Using magic didn’t weaken you? What? No. Dad always looked weaker after using his fish-pull too much, and even the strongest brawny out there, Glorious Man, couldn’t go full-strength against a kaiju all day long. He took breaks, too.

Addashield didn’t like letting Mark think about anything at the moment, and his floating drop of metal was turning into weirder shapes, like spirals and bone-hands, so very small and yet perfectly articulated and grasping. Shouldn’t making little bone hands have cost him a lot of attention? Apparently not. His eyes were focused on Mark.

Insistent.

Flickering with depths that Mark had never seen in a pair of eyes before.

Mark said, “Uh— The normal categories of Tutorial-granted Powers are Brawny, Shaper, Mind, Spiritual, Arcane, and Arch.”

Addashield didn’t simply dismiss Mark’s words. Instead, he said, “Mostly correct, but only because that is the world as you know it, ever since Malaqua ascended to godhood in his capture of the Demon Moon City, Arakino. I was there. I helped him capture Arakino.

“Before the Reveal, before the meeting of the two worlds, the smash of Earth into Daihoon, no child was named before they turned 12 and finished the Thresher. That’s what the Tutorial used to be called; one of many, many different names. Many children died from it. It was the greatest horror of our world. It was the greatest boon we could hope for.

“The dragons controlled us, the monsters always threatened, and the demons preyed upon our dependency in order to survive at all.

“The only way through all of that was with power that never stopped. That is what the Thresher granted us. It did not give us the limited power of mana and magic. The Thresher, the Demon City of Arakino, gave us True Power. That is what you reach for when you reach for the Tutorial. You, who have lived a life of simple ease of fishing and schoolwork and being allowed to go into the Tutorial at 18, instead of being forced into it at 12. This is all thanks to the sacrifices of your elders. You, who were born into this world of plenty, have no idea the depths of the sacrifices made so that people like you can live on in this world of plenty. You do not know the sacrifices we continue to make.

“But you will.

“For you are now called upon to continue the chain of thankless help, so that people you will never know will be able to live a life better than the one you were granted by your own elders.

“Will you take up the sword, as millions have before you?”

Mark felt as though his eyes were open for the first time. He looked upon Addashield, flicking that adamantium magic into shapes before him, and he saw a hero.

Mark said, “Yes.”

“This is going to hurt, and healing will not stop the pain.”

Addashield’s adamantium droplet shattered into a hundred needles, all of them instantly driving into Mark’s body, slipping into his clothes, slipping into his skin. He closed his eyes, and what he felt was like a cold breeze. He imagined the pain was going to come any second now, so he relaxed into it—

His bones locked in place.

Mark did not struggle against anything at all. He didn’t even breathe.

Mark just sat there, his bones feeling like someone was grabbing onto him from the inside, in a way that he hoped to never feel again, waiting for pain.

… Waiting for pain.

… Where was the pain now?

Oh god oh god Mark fucking hated the anticipation…

And yet, the awaited pain never came.

Slowly, surely, Mark started to breathe again, and he could move his ribs just fine.

Mark breathed, and… there was no pain?

Mark opened his eyes.

Addashield was studying him from afar, like a professor might study a student’s homework, wondering what to make of it all. He looked at Mark’s legs, then shoulders, then chest, and finally Mark’s eyes. Curiously, Addashield asked, “No pain?”

“I felt cold for a second?”

Addashield grinned, chuckling, as he said, “Good! That’s very good! Stand up and walk around some!”

Mark tentatively got to his feet, and he felt… fine? He moved his arms around and walked around his chair, feeling… “Completely normal?”

The archmage giggled a little, saying, “Amazing! You’re a— Have you told anyone about this sort of arrangement yet? About you coming here?”

“Uh… My parents, my friend.” Mark was wary. “Uh. Others?”

Addashield nodded. “That’s fine. Tell them that today was painful. Do not tell anyone that this was painless. What I just did to you was imbue your bones with adamantium— Do you know what adamantium is?”

“Er… I have no idea what any of that really means, but I do know about adamantium.”

Addashield hummed, and then he explained anyway, “Adamantium is one of the strongest metals known to man and monster. It’s also a bio-metal. Long tale shortened: your body will naturally produce adamantium from now on. Maybe a fingernail’s worth per year. That amount of adamantium is enough to produce the edge of one tier 7 sword-edge per year. The biometal you make will form the basis of your metalkinesis, limiting you most severely in the amount of metal you can control —you likely won’t be able to control anything but adamantium for decades— but even a needle of adamantium will allow you to hit far above your tier.”

Mark looked at his hands, and wasn’t sure what to say, other than, “Neat!”

Addashield laughed. “Yes yes. You have no idea what any of that really means. That’s fine. You’re a true Blank Canvas.”

“Uh? What?”

“Well you’re not a Blank Canvas any more. I overcame your natural resistances quite handily, and now your resistances are all different; I buried the seed behind the Curtain, in common parlance.” Addashield easily said, “Anyway. What I was saying was this: Don’t tell people that today was painless. Those who know about these things will know that you produce adamantium now, and in rather good quantities. Enough to line two normal swords per year, or half of a kaiju blade. This is NOT NORMAL for an adamantiumkinetic. This happens a lot with mithrilkinetics, though. Cities in Daihoon need a lot more than a single adamantium-edged sword to survive, but one adamantium sword is enough to start, and you are now a farm for the stuff. Good news / bad news; you are literally priceless as a living person.”

Mark’s eyes were wide. “Oh.”

“Yup!” Addashield smirked, saying, “Now we just gotta get Lola back in here and doing her job. I’m going to go find her. You stay here.”

Addashield went off to find Lola.

And Mark looked at his hands in the meantime. A smile came to his face as he imagined holding up a needle of black metal and floating it around like Dad did with his fishclips, like Addashield did with that drop he had stuck into Mark’s bone marrow. If all it took was one edge of adamantium to coat a sword that could defend a city…

Mark grinned.

He hadn’t known any of that at the start of today, before making the decision to accept Addashield’s offer just an hour ago. But it was all good news, wasn’t it? The part about how he was somehow producing a metal in his bone marrow that was worth more than gold was a bit concerning, but…

Er.

Did Addashield expect to be paid back? He had stuffed some metal into Mark’s body and now his body made metal, so… Did Addashield want his goldleaf back?

Er.

No, not really, right? Mark was paying him back in talking to the demons after this was all over, yeah?

… And mages had that whole ‘apprentices are indentured servants’ thing, didn’t—

Addashield came back into the room with Priestess Lola, saying, “You can sit back down, Mark.”

Lola looked resigned and yet perfectly poised. Mark wasn’t sure how she managed to pull that off, but that’s what she looked like. She had some pretty strict Xerkona training, didn’t she?

Lola said, “Please sit.”

Mark sat back down.

Lola said, “Hands to your knees and palms up, in the normal manner.”

Mark rapidly complied.

Lola said, “I am glad to see you passed through Addashield’s flavoring with minimal damage. But this will hurt.”

She breathed in—

Mark passed out from the pain.