47 (II)

Jealousy [I]

“Yeah. I wanted to. I thought you didn’t deserve it. Any of it. But I needed the mithril badly, and Lord Arrow was paying extra for us to keep quiet. So I shadowed some poor, vicious kid who the System seemed to really have it out for. Years and years. For nothing. And now here we are, Roland’s worst nightmare has come true… Except he can’t really do anything about it, and you’re not actually a monster. Well. Not after you dealt with the Orcish Skill, anyway.”

Shiv sighed, turning away and crossing his arms over the railing at the edge of the upper level, there to keep people from falling down into the slug enclosure. The two from earlier were still trying to rip 811 apart. They seemed to be having trouble with the orc’s Master-Tier physique. “I wouldn’t have cared much if someone else did it. But you were always decent to me back then. Maybe we weren’t friends or anything, but I thought you were just the one guy who wasn’t some backward fortress town asshole and that the rest of the Republic or world wouldn’t hate me for something I didn’t do.”

“I don’t hate you,” Tran said. “I never did.”

“Yeah.” Shiv snorted. He believed him. But… “Neither does Heather now. Instead, you two are scared shitless of me. Kind of an improvement, but is this really what being a Pathbearer is like for you? You can’t decide what you want to do, still have to grovel before the Town Lord for mithril, you treat those lesser than you like shit and those stronger than you like they’re gods? What kind of life is that?”

“It’s reality,” Heather said from the side. She was still watching the slugs, but there was a hint of heat in her voice. Anger. “We can’t all be like you, Shiv.”

At that, Shiv could only laugh. “You had a nice family that loved you, that paid for your education, that made sure you were preparing to be a Pathbearer from the moment you could walk. Tran might’ve not had that much, but… he did go to an academy. You look at me like I’m some sort of weird, nightmarish monster of a person. Fine. I accept that. I’m flattered, even! But I also remember you sneering down at my face like I was some vermin every time I asked you about magic when I was just a felling kid living on the streets, and you sure as hells didn’t get anything out of doing that. You were being a shit just to be a shit. For years.”

She stayed quiet, and the Deathless gave an annoyed sigh. “For all my life before the past few weeks, I fought. I fought. It hurt, but I fought. The System spited me. I fought. Shit hand? Bad luck? Fight. And I was so godsdamned jealous of you people, of what you could do and become. I would have given anything to become like you—and I did! I died fighting some bastard I knew I had no hope of more than distracting, but I fought him anyway, because the only other choice was to fold and let him hurt someone else. And I wasn’t about that. Even as a Pathless. Even when I had no idea death wouldn’t stick. But it seems you two were for the folding, even as Pathbearers. Which makes me wonder, what the hells is the point of being one? What kind of ascension or evolution are you going to get if you keep folding?”

Heather still refused to meet his eyes, but he could tell her jaw was clenched tight. Tran focused really hard on Shiv’s mask and tried to hide how his own jaw was clenching.

“The System wants us to fight and struggle,” Shiv said. “I don’t know why. I don’t know for what grand purpose. But it does. You two have years on me. Years of being a Pathbearer. Years of academy education, a team to support you, everyone being willing to help you. I might have a Unique Path. I might not be as bothered by death and pain compared to most people, but I always fought.” Shiv almost snarled as he looked at them. “Well. Now you’re in a place where the System doesn’t care that you’re scared, that you’re alone, that you’re hurt and hunted. Congratulations, guys. I’m now you, and you’re now me. The only difference is, I don’t intend to leave you to die. Because I don’t stay scared. I just get pissed.”

A painful silence followed. Neither of the Slayers could meet his eyes. Shiv could hear Siggy gulping nearby. Leu’s return mercifully broke the awkwardness. She came bearing something with her head-tentacles. It resembled a heavy, pitch-black gauntlet that seemed to be made of some kind of quivering material.

Huh, this looks promising.

“Master Shiv,” Leu said, bringing the item to bear. “Over the years, Gate Theborn has amassed trinkets and weapons from Pathbearers that… no longer require them. A few, I took as my own, ostensibly treating them as trophies, but I truthfully wished to build up an armory that would give me options when it came to executing my plans one day. Today, I have scoured the few Master-Tier pieces I have, and wish to offer something to you for your coming struggle—and as payment offered toward introducing me to the Great Valor Thann.”

The Guardshead was definitely laying it a bit thick as she buttered him up, but Shiv couldn’t lie: After a lifetime of being practically destitute and bereft, he was pretty bribable.

But then he noticed something very peculiar

about the gauntlet. More than just being made from a weird, constantly vibrating material, it also kept his mana field at bay, becoming like a small fortress his magic couldn’t pass through. And he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

“Wait, is that gauntlet made of Inertium?” Heather gasped. “How the hells did you get an Inertium gauntlet?”

“From a Pathbearer who proclaimed herself to be a Magebreaker. She actually offered one of her gauntlets to us in exchange for some very pertinent information about her target.” She let out a sibilant chuckle. “I made sure the gauntlet went missing before someone else could claim it from the inventory.”

Shiv took it from her tentacles and felt how the material hummed between his hands. More than that, he felt how his mana got stuck and disrupted by the constantly shaking substance. “What even is this?”

“A very rare material created by the magic-fearing Farwalkers to combat the Fae. The nature of its composition is known to no other race, and as you might have already observed, mana is disrupted by the unstable nature of the item.”

Equipment Obtained: [Gauntlet of the Magebreaker]

Tier: Master

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Inertium

Enchantments > Attuned Mana-Nullification; Master Self-Mending; Binding

Equip Item to Left Arm?

Curiously, Shiv used his Biomancy to remove the bone gauntlet on his left arm and tentatively slid his hand into the Magebreaker. The effect he felt was immediate. His left became a nullified spot for his mana. He could still shape spells and wield his Biomancy with his right hand, but the Woundeater wyrm circling his left arm recoiled off the gauntlet as if a blade parried by a shield. His left arm was practically in a mana-cage—not unlike how his Mask of the False Path was a cage that guarded his mind.

“It’s like a layer of vacuum in my mana field.” Shiv moved his fingers and felt the gauntlet tighten to fit him. That was pretty neat too. He used his right hand to collapse his bone gauntlet around the Magebreaker, reconfiguring the design of his hand to layer the black, magic-blunting armor with additional supports of adamantine bone.

“Perhaps a demonstration would be more apt,” Lue said. “Hold up your arm, Master Shiv.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He did, and she unleashed a blade of wind using one of her head-tentacles. The spell crashed against his hand, but the gauntlet lashed back at the offending magic, and Shiv felt himself able to push back against the spell with his strength. He managed to parry it, much to his surprise. “Shit. That’s something. Thanks, Guardshead. This would have been useful for me when I was fighting Harkness. Wait, can this nullify mind mana too?”

“If the attack comes from a source of attuned mana, it can be seized and struck aside. But be warned: Every magical impact it endures will cause the Inertium to vibrate faster and faster, until it hits a breaking point. My tests indicate that it takes around five focused Master-Tier spells to fracture the gauntlet, and it requires around four hours to rebuild itself if the pieces are in the vicinity of each other. Additionally, trying to direct mana into or using that hand is not advised, as it will also be regarded as damage.”

Shiv tested his gauntlet again as he opened a cut on his right hand, fed it to a wyrm, and then launched the wyrm at his gauntlet. A splash of crimson mana folded around his left hand, and the sudden force made his arm jolt. He could feel the gauntlet’s vibrations quicken. But more than that, I think I just discovered another means for it. Apparently letting the wyrms break themselves against someone’s Magical Resistance or a mana-shield might let me avoid needing to take back a wound if there is no one I can inflict the injury on. It is channeled mana, after all, and this thing nullifies it.

Then, Shiv blinked as something occurred to him. “Wait, how does this thing even have Enchantments if it nullifies magic?”

“Attuned mana,” Leu said. “Skills governed and shaped by a lore of magic. Most skills are empowered by mana, but they lack a field…” Leu trailed off as she tried to find a better explanation. “They are self-referential rather than encompassing and metaconceptual.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv said, acting like he got what she was getting at. “So. No mana field, no problem.”

“In simplicity,” Leu begrudgingly said.

“Okay,” Shiv nodded. “I’m more than happy with that.”

“This item does pose another drawback,” Leu continued. “It cannot be used in tandem with another item that provides Magical Resistance or against someone with Magical Resistance, for Magical Resistance is also registered as an attack against it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Magical Resistance is a field too,” Tran explained. “It just develops inward. That’s why it still works with other magical skills in the rare cases that a dedicated mage does develop Magical Resistance. It’s a fundamentally compact field of adaptive mana that turns into a counterforce against whatever outside magic is trying to affect the Pathbearer without their permission. Honestly, I would prefer the Inquisitor’s armor over this. It’s like a full set of armor: More encompassing and doesn’t need you to actively block.”

Shiv opened and closed his hands. “But I told you earlier, Tran. I want to fight. And sometimes, I might want to let a spell hit and hurt me. Gotta feed my wyrms with something.”

“Great,” Heather breathed. “The Orcish Skill is gone, but he’s still insane.”

“And you get to keep the armor a bit longer, Heather,” Shiv quipped, snapping a finger in her direction. “But I’m still taking it off of you when this is over and you and Tran are safe, so don’t break it.” He then regarded his mask in Tran’s hands. “Hey, Guardshead. You got an enchanting table around? And a kitchen? I don’t see anything in this place.”

“I can arrange for a table to be delivered with haste but… why a kitchen?”

“Because I want to have tested my Master-Tier Cooking out at least once in my life, in case this whole endeavor against the Jealousy goes poorly. And because it doesn’t feel right taking something from you without some appreciation back. You have any food preferences, Leu? Or allergies?”

“I…” the Guardshead took a moment to right herself, the offer catching her off guard. “I like, uh, what is that Earth ground-fruit called…”

“Ground fruit?” Tran muttered.

“Radishes!” Leu said. “That is it. I would be most pleased to taste some of your cooked radishes, Master Shiv.”

“Alright,” Shiv said, pulling his chef’s knife out of his cloak. “Let’s go find a kitchen. I’m going to need some scallops and brown butter to go with this…”

***

The amount of salt baked into the radishes was perfect. The moisture was perfect. The Pyromancy-seared scallops were perfect. The brown butter was perfect—down to the very texture of the sauce. And Shiv’s final hit of inspiration was preternaturally perfect, prompting him to pick out a fistful of bitter seeds he’d never seen before and scatter them over the smoking dish.

From the moment he entered the kitchen, a trance fell over him—more than meditative, it was a sense of hyper-awareness, of hyper-efficiency. Where Culinary Berserker made the world seem like it was burning and exaggerated everything he did in the kitchen, The Chef Unwavering made everything about him seem brighter, clearer, allowed him to deliver every cut down to the perfect depth, helped him keep track of how long certain things had been boiling, burning, and building to that final culmination.

Culinary Berserker was like being consumed by chaos and calamity, and inflicting every bit of that disaster on the food. The Chef Unwavering was all the power of chaos and disaster wrestled into submission by focus and dedication, refining it into an implacable peace.

At some point, Shiv couldn’t tell where he began and the kitchen ended. The food he made was infused with something from him—a mood, a touch of mana, an imprint of his skill.

The Chef Unwavering > 52

As he filled plates and prepared utensils, he stood off by the side and watched. Watched as the Slayers, the mercenary, and his new unlikely ally looked down at their slightly glowing dishes with varied expressions.

“Should… it be bright like that?” Tran asked.

Siggy didn’t ask that much, she just dug in, spearing a radish and popping it into her mouth. Shiv leaned in closer in anticipation, curious to see just how his Master-Tier Cooking would taste to the others.

A second later, Shiv found himself holding the convulsing Siggy as she practically had a seizure in her chair. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Shiv held Siggy’s head up and forced her mouth open so she wouldn’t bite her tongue off. A horrible feeling twisted inside him as he wondered what went wrong. He swept through her person with his Biomancy and—

“Stop!” Siggy said, pawing at his hands. Her eyes stopped rolling, she stopped shaking, and she began reaching for her plate again. “Don’t—I need more! I’m not having a seizure! I need more!”

As the goblin literally threw herself at the food, Shiv turned to stare at the others. His Dread Aura told him that their courage was shaken, but with how vigorously the goblin was gobbling up her food, Tran swallowed and brought his fork down. “Alright. Shiv. If this kills me, I’m sorry for spying on you.” The moment he put the food in his mouth, he nearly slumped over. “Oh, holy shi—what did… what did you put in this?”

“Nothing,” Shiv muttered. “Just the ingredients.”

“It’s… the best radish I’ve ever eaten. I like it.” Tran paused as he tried to right himself. “And I hate vegetables.”

Heather followed soon after, and Leu was the last. As both of them took their bites, the former found herself bracing against the table for support, and Leu let out a sob.

What did I just do? Shiv blinked.

“Is this what you cooked at Swan-Eating Toad?” Heather whispered.

“Sometimes,” Shiv said. “Depends on the night and the menu.”

Then, Heather burst into tears. “I didn’t go… All those years, I thought you were an Omenborn… that everything you touched was cursed… and I didn’t go.”

Leu shivered in her seat, her head tentacles twitching and spasming. “Food… It should not taste this good. It is too much… too much…”

As the group collapsed into various states of near-incapacitation, Shiv walked over to his own plate and chanced a quick bite. An explosion of flavor, energy, and contentment hit him.

Perfected Salt-Baked Radish with Seared Scollops on Brown Butter Vinaigrette has boosted your Physicality.

Shiv didn’t just feel stronger, he was stronger.

“Holy shit,” Shiv said. “Is this what Master-Tier Cooking does? Is this why people keep coming back to eat what Georges makes even after he literally punches them?”

Shiv took another bite. Still great. Still wonderful. Still perfect. His throat swelled. He choked. “Well. If this is my last meal, I think… I think Georges would call this one not shit at all.”

The Challenger is amused by your triumph.

Shiv ignored whatever the System felt like telling him about what the damn orc god was doing and turned to regard the others. “Did you all get… get a boost to your Physicality?”

None of them replied, for they were so occupied with his food that the chef himself had become an afterthought. And because of that, Shiv smiled. If nothing else, he would have made a pretty good chef after all.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep