The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Twelve hours had passed since we departed from the capital city. Much of it was spent in relative silence, with only a few stops to stretch our legs or eat. When night fell upon us, we parked our carriages in a nice, gentle clearing I had found with a Clone!Bird. In no time, we had tents set up, a campfire going, and the delicious smell of food to make our stomachs rumble.

“Lord Springfield?” asked Quella, looking at where I stared. “Do you see anything?”

“Ash,” I replied, biting into a carrot. “It’s very faint, but it's there. We made good progress. It’ll probably be another two or three days before we must worry about the ash raining down. You see,” I bit into it again and pointed to the puppet horses—clones disguised as wooden creations. They were still hooked to the carriages. “That’s the most amazing thing about that kind of magic. They don’t need to rest as long as you can supply the mana. That and Surtr,” I added. “He can go for weeks without rest. So, I’d say our progress is coming along very smoothly.”

Clash! Clank! Bam!

Quella’s eyes naturally drifted over to the scene that, for the most part, would have startled a lot of people. Sekh, the former Dark Lord of Tyranny, now without her armor, and dressed in the clothes I had gifted her when I rescued her from her icy coffin…

She was sparring with Greggie and Ami. She loosely held one hand behind her back, dipping, ducking, dodging, using her feet to redirect Ami’s kicks and her hand to reach inside Greggie’s guard and redirect his wrist. It was a masterful display of precision, one almost for her benefit as it was for them. Sekh had a massive amount of raw power. And yes, while she also had thousands of years of actual combat experience, it was never a bad idea to go back to the basics.

I was surprised she was the one who brought it up.

“So…” Quella lowered her voice so that only I heard her. “Is it okay? For her to be without…”

“Yes,” I replied. “Tris has a [Skyview] waypoint on Sera. She’s watching every little thing. If Sera even thinks about leaving, Sekh will know to put the armor on.” You looked at Melusine, the Crystal Fairy—the last queen of her kingdom. She knew, instinctively, that something wasn’t adding up. But Tilde, now fully healed and able to walk, was twirling a pair of wooden revolvers while chatting with the fairy queen. Niva and Primrose were beside them, the two of them having their own discussions.

“It’s a rag-tag group, isn’t it?” I asked with a smile. “If any historian knew just who all this group contained—a chimeric Soul Warrior, more Soul Warriors, a Void Skill given a physical form that worked off exploiting and creating loopholes, a fairy maid that’s older than most kingdoms, a Dark Lord who wants to break their curse, a fairy queen from a thousand years ago, a spirit summoner, a spirit born from an ancient Great Eagle transformed into a Spirit Lord, and the chimeric reincarnation of the Eagle Yew? I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world to get someone drunk enough to believe it.”

“Hahaha!” Quella giggled, her soft giggles rather pleasant to hear. “I suppose not. I’m sorry, but… It shouldn’t work. But it does, doesn’t it?”

“It does. By some means, it does.” Tris gave me a look from across the camp and walked over. “Guess it’s time for your training,” I said as Tris sat beside me.

“I’ve been ready,” Quella replied. “I studied the fundamentals of silent casting every night after Sera talked about it. I don’t think I can truly advance as a mage or as a Soul Warrior unless I master it.”

“You would be correct,” Tris answered. “Now, I’m going to use waypoints to help you visualize what you need to picture. Rather, I shall attempt it. I’ve never done this before. I expect to fail, but I don’t expect failure to repeat. I’m someone who learns the first time and never repeats it again.”

“And I’ll do what I can. Just remember that my magic is…” I didn’t have to finish it. Quella understood.

We did that as Elly began to sing a campfire song. It was smooth, and not a song I really recognized or remembered. But it evoked a sense of rustic survival, so perhaps she had heard it from a Western. Or from a classic country song. Either way, it suited the mood. And I wasn’t feeling that way because Tilde was acting like a gunslinger, quoting lines from movies she must’ve heard about from Soul Warriors of old.

“’You're thinking ‘Did she fire six shots or only five?’ Now, to tell you the truth, I've forgotten myself in all this excitement. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and will blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?’”

She pulled the wooden trigger twice. Nothing obviously came out because it was a solid chunk of wood. “Too bad, punk. I had two guns.” My beloved, adorable, and slightly cringy maid laughed to herself and kept twirling her guns.

Keeth, meanwhile, had recovered enough to make small carvings using a chunk of wood and his power of modeling. His current project was a little statue for Yew, who was helping Mary get back into the spirit of being a teacher, along with Melusine’s gentle encouragement. It seemed like that would have been how the night ended…

But no. Perhaps Tilde didn’t intend for her simple, focused expression to be the catalyst for a newfound if not just myself, but for Niva and Primrose.

“Are you okay?” Elly asked, the question itself was nothing more than a girl wanting to make sure another friend was okay. “You stopped spinning your guns. You have this…look on your face.”

“Oh, really? Sorry. I’m just thinking hard about what order to spend my SP on,” she replied. Immediately, I remembered that I had given her and Niva a dragon’s hoard of SP some time ago. So much had happened that I had utterly forgotten that I still had tens of thousands of SP myself.

“What order? Do you mean what to spend it on?”

“No.” Tilde shook her head. “See, a perk of being long-lived means that there are a lot of opportunities to get SP.” My fairy gave me a look—that was the cover story she was going with. “I have enough to buy and max out everything on my skill menu. Living a thousand years… Yeah, that kinda stuff happens.”

Team Quella looked at Tilde with a newfound expression. Melusine, especially, had to have received the biggest shock because of how casually Tilde had revealed it.

“You mean…” Quella began to ask.

“Yep. I could be stronger. Like a lot. Way more than a lot.”

“If you could buy them all,” Elly said, unsure if she even believed what she was saying. “Then what’s the issue? I’m confused.”

“The order matters. You wouldn’t make a sandwich by starting with the meat on the outside and putting the bread in the middle.”

“That’s still a sandwich, Tilde,” I said.

“An ugly sandwich, Master,” she replied, sticking her tongue playfully out at me. “Then again… The skill menu and the skill list are likely organized by an internal index. So, if two people learned every skill in a different order, at the end of the day, their menus would probably be identical.”

“I still don’t really understand the issue. Sorry. I guess I’m a little scatterbrained about this stuff, haha,” laughed Elly.

“I mean…” Tilde flipped her wooden revolvers once more. “It’s not an issue. I’m just procrastinating again when I really shouldn’t. There’s no better time like the present.” She smiled and flexed her arms as her wings softly fluttered. “Especially since I’m back to 100%. If I had spent the SP while still in recovery, it would have delayed everything by a week or two. The body would be split between adapting to my new skills and spells and healing.”

Tilde took a deep breath. She looked at me. Then it began. In hindsight, it was awkward—staring at her focused expression as she manipulated the menu. We only knew it was done because she stood and patted her face with both hands. “Okay. Step 1? Finished. Step 2 is to wait for it to kick in. In a week, Master… I’m going to be the most powerful and adaptable maid on the planet. Buuuuut… I still need to work on populating my skill menu with a lot more skills to purchase. My work isn’t over. I can’t just say ‘I win’, because the game is still going. There are still skills I don’t have. And I need to work towards them so they show up for purchase. Master, I think I need to start mining.”

I was supposed to be the composed one—Lyudmila Vredi Springfield—a High Elf over 1,000 years old. Yet even I barked a sudden laugh at how…out of left field it was for her to say such a thing in a serious voice. “Why, my maid, do you want to become a miner?”

“Because of skills. I only just became big enough to hold a pickaxe back in Plymoise. Because I’ve never done it before, the skills that rely on the [Mining] skill are unavailable. And some skills have prerequisites before they’re available for either purchase or manual learning.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Does the Ashlands even have mines?”

“They do,” Tris said. “The purity of the veins isn’t the best. And the ash is thick and magical, due to the eruption of Mt. Kindle. It is difficult for most. Yet I predict it won’t be an issue for us, my lord.”

“Okay. If it’s on the way, then you can live your dream as a miner when we stop.”

“Awesome! Great!” Tilde flew and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks a lot, Master! Oh, and it’s not just mining. Remember, I was ten inches tall until recently. So, I actually have a whole lot to do that’s not just mining. But I figured I’d start with it. Why? Because it seems fun.”

“How much did you spend?” Melusine asked, her eternally shifting tiara slowly transformed into something regally feminine.

“A couple thousand,” she replied in the same cadence as if she were answering a question about dinner.

The Crystal Fairy’s jaw went slack for a few seconds before she recovered. Tilde barely suppressed her laugh and shrugged. “That’s the kinda thing that happens when you spend centuries hoarding SP as if it’s about to go out of style.”

She then turned to Niva, still deep in silent thought. One hand touched her prosthetic arm. Her eye looked at us. But you could say she wasn’t really here. Tilde walked and sat beside her. “You should really start thinking about how you want to spend your SP, too.”

Niva remained quiet for a long moment. She met Tilde’s eyes and asked a question I wished she wouldn’t have. “If I spent mine on the boat ride to Aetos Village… Would it have given me the edge in that fight?”

“The more SP you spend at once, the longer it takes the body to adjust. It takes even longer if the body isn’t used to it, Niva,” Tilde softly said. “I’ve been alive for so long that there’s an exception for me. What I spent will be handled, adjusted, and accumulated within a handful of days. Which is practically unheard of. But you?”

Niva looked at Tilde—we all did.

“Let’s say you cashed it on the boat. Your body wasn’t used to fighting until you and Prim trained with Aetos. To spend it beforehand and then train afterwards would’ve delayed the recovery by a week or two. But you’ve had training. You were taught by Aetos, and you did it inside the Eagle Yew. According to Tilde’s Theory of Correctness, your recovery would be shorter. But that’s not the answer you want.”

Tilde took another breath.

“No. Spending on the trip wouldn’t have helped,” bluntly said my fairy maid. “It would have actively hindered you due to the adjustment and recovery. Knowing something and having something isn’t the same as knowing how to use that something. You can’t give a little boy a Sword of Super Sharpness and expect him to take down a thousand dragons. If you want him to do that, then you must train and nurture him. And honestly, even if it did work, we fought against people who could steal buffs and turn them into debilitating debuffs.”

“…”

“The power of foresight can only help so much. Yeah, you and me could’ve put up more of a fight, but those bastards were prepared. They probably had a few secret cards hidden in their sleeves. If the silence orb wasn’t enough, they’d have used something else. Maybe an orb to remove our sense of touch. Or an orb to blind us. Remember, once they took our buffs, it was like fighting a whole bunch of Soul Warriors. Not just anyone could do that. Hindsight is 20/20, and all that, and it’s easy to convince yourself that you should’ve done this or that or maybe this other thing. But falling into an endless cycle of ‘what ifs’ will just paralyze you with depression.”

Niva kept quiet, clenching her prosthetic fist around her staff. But my eyes saw how she shook. It was subtle to all, but entirely visible to my sharp eyes and Tris’s analytical capabilities.

“Mila… Can…you send Primrose and me to Lord Aetos? Please? I—we… We need to talk to him.” Her voice seemed strong. But it wasn’t. It subtly quivered, betraying her appearance. The girl underneath was… I didn’t want to say it, but she probably felt like baggage. Everyone here was a power in themselves. Sekh and I were the strongest. Then Team Quella as Soul Warriors, then Tilde as an impossibly long-lived fairy, Tris as a supercomputer, and Surtr as the physical manifestation of Sekh’s excessive mana.

Niva, on the other hand… Niva was normal.

“Sure. I can do that. It’s not a problem,” I softly replied.

“Yew?” Niva looked at the elven chimera. “Can you come with us? Please?”

“Uh-huh. ’d be happy to.” Yew walked over and sat. She found Niva’s hand and softly squeezed it.

Mary and Melusine spoke to Yew about having another lesson plan. And right before I put my flute to my lips to mask the actual warping as a spell… I sensed a deep focus from Tris. Then I heard her voice in my head.

A moment, my lord. Ira is watching curiously. Ever since she began her therapy via the GGP Rehabilitation Program, her mindset has changed. I know you’re hesitant, but I recommend a trial run. I suggest we let the Essence of Wrath assist us on our mission to destroy Hymn.

I kept quiet for a moment. All eyes were on Prim, Niva, and Yew, but then they turned to me. When I thought about Ira…

A ‘tool’ was the first thing that came to mind. But then my eyes gazed upon Quella and her team. I had hated them. For so long—for the hundreds of thousands of accelerated years I had spent within the void. Yes, sixty days or so had passed in real time, but I experienced something that had no equal.

Tris… Maybe my mindset is dated… Perhaps you’re right.

"Yew, before I send you…” I pointed to the edge of our camp. “Can we speak?” Yew nodded. She skipped over and followed me. “It’s about Ira.” I told her about the GGP program and Tris’s suggestion. “I don’t know if you’re afraid of her. Her flames were what broke the bounded field. Her—”

“And her fire damaged me when I was the Eagle Yew,” Yew added. “If what you say is true, and I believe it is, then Ira’s suffering, too. She was forced to fit into a niche without the freedom to choose what she wanted to do with her life. That’s what Aetos told me after it happened.” Yew took a breath. “But forgiving isn’t up to Aetos. It’s up to me. And…I don’t know if I can. Or if it is possible. But it could be in the future, Mila. And I want it to be possible. I do. I really, really do, because I don’t think she’s bad. I think she may be misunderstood.”

Yew’s eyes held only a scarce amount of fear that was overshadowed by a barge’s worth of courage. I took it as approval. We returned to the campfire. “Everyone, I have an announcement. There’s going to be someone who accompanies us on our trip.”

I conjured a ball of flame and tossed it behind me. It morphed into a portal…and she emerged from it.

Ira, the Essence of Wrath, masquerading as a Dragonfolk, did not fit the definition of anything anyone assumed her to be. For starters, she wore overalls—a simple, rustic, almost rural design of deep blue denim. They fit her so well because they were purchased with GGP. Tris had even embroidered a cartoon dragon on the front.

The dragon was timid. She found it difficult to meet everyone’s eyes until I nodded. Then she introduced herself.

“I’m Ira,” she said, her voice still tinged with uncertainty of having been granted this freedom. “I’m also known as the Essence of Wrath. I’m one of the Seven Deadly Sins.” She managed to meet everyone’s eyes except for Yew. Perhaps it was instinct, but Ira submissively looked downward before her gaze returned to the group.

“Seven…Deadly…Sins? Like…”

“Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, and wrath. I’m Wrath, and the other six… You could call them my siblings. Our counterparts are the Seven Heavenly Virtues,” replied Ira, answering Elly’s question.

“But you’re a skill?” It was a question, not a statement, from Greggie.

“I am. The Seven Heavenly Virtues and Seven Deadly Sins are unique. We have the ability to acquire a sense of self if we’re with our users for long enough. With Lord Springfield… It’s…been centuries.” A technical truth. “It’s as Lord Springfield said. I will be joining you, if you would all have me, in your quest to destroy Hymn and defeat the spirit at Mt. Kindle.”

I then stepped forward and played my flute. Tris used waypoints to create a magic circle to mask my warping, and Yew gave us a friendly wave. Ira managed to meet Yew’s eyes, the act alone possibly the most difficult thing she had ever done. But she didn’t see a grimace of promised revenge. She just saw a smile—perhaps a childish smile, since Yew was, technically, only a few weeks old, if at that.

It was not, however, a smile that wished for or imparted anger. And that, perhaps, weighed so much more heavily upon Ira’s heart than any strike.

My flute song reached its peak, and I triggered the warp—the three women vanished—just like that. Tris made the waypoints fade and dissolve into motes of illusory particles, of which only Quella of Team Quella knew the truth.

They’ve arrived safely, my lord.

Thank you for the confirmation, Tris.

I stored my flute. My eyes found Ira’s almost nervous frame. She had taken a seat farther away from the others. It seemed like Elly wanted to say something. Or maybe Ami wished to be the one to break the ice. But they had just realized she was the embodiment of Wrath, and that wasn’t something even Soul Warriors could easily comprehend. Ira was, to them, a raw emotion often associated with negative tendencies.

“… Ira, come with me,” I said. “We need to have a little talk.”

“Of course, Lord Springfield,” said the now-timid Dragonfolk. She stood and followed me. Tris remained behind and assisted both Quella and Tilde. My precious fairy, in her ever-infinite potential, started promising a trio of oxymoronic possibilities now that she was focused on becoming strong.

“I gotta have a lot of supportive magic under my skirt,” I overheard her say. “Oh, but I also want to be a ninja maid who uses silenced pistols. Oh, but I also want to fly and be as silent as a falling snowflake. Melly, you’ve gotta help with that part. You and I are taking flying lessons.”

“Flying…lessons?” asked the Crystal Fairy, her voice a mixture of amusement and shock. “I’m certain you’re not asking a queen to learn, Tilde.” Melusine’s voice contained a glimmer of royal authority, with a hint of amusement-- something I was sure that partly surprised her team. Melusine was a good woman. Tilde knew she was. So, I knew this was her way of helping Melusine adjust further to this crazy situation she found herself in. And if anyone could do it, it was the same fairy that had been by her side 1,000 years ago.