Chapter 26. Curse
"Huff... Huff.. Hufff..."
"This is completely insane," Sam announced, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
[Indomitable Will Active]
"On- huff.. one more time..." Adom wheezed, straightening up with determination that his wobbling knees somewhat undermined.
This was attempt number twenty-one. Sam had missed twice - though Adom suspected at least one of those "misses" had been intentional. The other nineteen hits had left various parts of his body stinging, his pride somewhat bruised, and his earlier confidence about this brilliant training idea significantly dented.
Who knew the academy's most cautious student could aim so well when properly motivated by academic curiosity?
Despite the bruises forming under his robes, Adom couldn't help but smile. Because there had been progress. Real, measurable progress.
[Fluid Control has reached Level 2!]
[White Wyrm Body has reached Level 3!]
[ [Boxing Mastery (Dodging)] is getting better]
[ [Agility] is getting better]
[ [Iron Lungs] is getting better]
[Physical enhancement moderately strengthened]
The difference was subtle but unmistakable. His Fluid moved more smoothly now, less like choppy waves and more like flowing water. The world around him seemed to come into sharper focus - he could track the slight movements of Sam's fingers as he prepared his next spell, catch the whisper of wind before it manifested into an attack.
His body responded faster too. Not by much, but enough that he'd managed to partially deflect the last three hits instead of taking them full force. The Fluid wrapped around him more naturally, like a second skin rather than an ill-fitting coat.
It had taken twenty-one attempts, multiple bruises, and what felt like enough wind spells to power a small windmill, but he'd done it. Level 2.
...Level 2.
Adom's smile turned slightly manic as he straightened up. Because here was the thing about Level 2 - it meant Level 3 existed. And if Level 3 existed...
Sam apparently recognized that look. He'd seen it too many times not to. "No," he said firmly, already knowing it was futile. "Whatever you're thinking, no. You can barely stand."
But Adom was already settling back into his stance.
After all, what kind of person would he be if he stopped at Level 2 when Level 3 was just waiting to be reached?
"Just a few more tries," he said, ignoring how his muscles protested the movement. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."
The black cat, still watching from the sidelines, let out what sounded suspiciously like a sigh.
Adom breathed in deeply, then out.
"Are you r-"
The world didn't exactly slow down. That would have been too simple, too convenient. Instead, everything became... clearer. More defined. Like switching from a clouded lens to a crystal-clear one.
It had started around the eleventh attempt, when desperation and bruises had finally forced him to stop trying to just react faster and actually think.
He'd noticed something then - a pattern so subtle he'd almost missed it. The way Sam's weight shifted slightly to his left when preparing a low shot. The barely perceptible tension in his right shoulder before a high one. The slight difference in how he moved his fingers for a straight shot versus a curved one.
Since then, every attempt had been less about dodging and more about observation. Learning. Understanding.
His Fluid responded differently now too.
Instead of trying to make it circulate faster in his body, he let it flow naturally, using it to enhance his already-improving perception. Each trial added another piece to the puzzle - the timing between Sam's inhale and the spell's release, the correlation between wind pressure and attack angle, the almost rhythmic nature of spell combinations.
It wasn't perfect. Far from it. But where before he'd been frantically reacting to each attack, now he was starting to... anticipate. His body, battered but adapting, was slowly learning to move before his conscious mind caught up. Muscle memory building up through painful repetition.
[Pattern Recognition is forming...]
The notification flickered at the edge of his vision, but Adom kept his focus. He could feel it - that space between conscious thought and instinct where everything just... flowed. What he'd started calling 'the zone' in his head, for lack of a better term.
Sam's fingers twitched in a now-familiar pattern. High shot, coming from the right. Adom's body was already moving, Fluid shifting to reinforce his dodge before the spell had fully formed.
It wasn't mastery. Not even close. But it was the beginning of understanding, and sometimes that was even more valuable.
One...
In that crystalline clarity of focus, Adom could see it. The telltale distortion in the air, like heat waves rising from hot pavement, except... purposeful. Directed. The wind arrow took shape, and for a brief, beautiful moment, he could almost trace its path in his mind - the way it would curve upward, heading straight for his chest.
Two...
His muscles tensed, Fluid already flowing to support his planned movement.
Three...
Time seemed to stretch like honey as a small smile tugged at his lips. This time. This time he had it. He could see it, feel it, knew exactly where it would go at fou-
"OUCH!"
The sharp sting in his right thigh broke through his focus like a rock through glass. He hopped awkwardly on his left leg, pride stinging almost as much as his thigh.
The arrow had dropped. It had dropped, and he hadn't seen it coming at all.
Sam, the traitor, was trying very hard not to look amused. "You know, when you said 'one more time' twenty minutes ago, I don't think either of us thought you meant twenty more times."
Adom rubbed his thigh, mind already analyzing what had gone wrong. He'd been so sure about that trajectory... Maybe if he paid more attention to the way the air currents moved instead of just the initial formation? Or was there something in Sam's stance he'd missed?
He opened his mouth to say "again," but then stopped, the word dying in his throat. His mind finally wrestled control back from his stubborn determination. His legs were shaking, his energy reserves were running dangerously low, and he could already feel tomorrow's bruises forming. Being bold was one thing. Being reckless was another.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked instead, straightening up with what dignity he could muster while still favoring his right leg.
Sam looked at him for a long moment, then chuckled and shook his head. "You know, normal people would take at least a few days to recover after getting hit nineteen times with wind arrows."
"Good thing I'm not normal people then," Adom replied with a tired grin. "I'm a manly man. The manliest of men, in fact." He attempted to flex, which resulted in a poorly concealed grimace. "Don't you agree, kitty cat?"
The black cat's ears flattened, accompanied by a low warning growl.
"...Is that its name now?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
"No, that's just one of the names it hasn't hissed at yet," Adom said, still nursing his pride along with his various bruises. "Besides, I had to test it. For science. Like a proper manly man would."
The cat's tail twitched in what looked suspiciously like disdain.
Besides, Adom had several theories about that dropped arrow that needed testing.
*****
They gathered their things, Sam wincing as he rolled his shoulders. "I need a long shower after this."
"You need a shower? All you did was stand there and torture me."
"Shows what you know about spellcasting." Sam massaged his temples. "My mana pool is practically empty. Wind arrows might be basic, but maintaining precision for that many casts..." He gave Adom a pointed look. "Which, may I remind you, was entirely your idea."
"Fair," Adom conceded with a laugh. "Though I notice, around the 5th time, you didn't seem to mind using me for target practice anymore."
"Academic curiosity," Sam said primly, then broke into a smile. "Come on, let's grab some snacks from the dining hall. I've got that new strategy board game from a toy store - the new one with the knights and mages roles?"
"Meow," the black cat interjected, tail swishing deliberately.
Adom paused, his expression shifting to that familiar contemplative look. "Actually... I think I'll head to the library first."
"Now?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "It's getting late."
"Says the one who practically lives there," Adom countered. "I actually sleep, you know. You're the one who's managed to make Miss Grimclaw tolerate you through sheer persistence."
"Oh please, she tolerates us both," Sam snorted. "Though lately you've been spending more time getting beaten up than reading. Sorry - 'training in battle magic.'" His air quotes were practically audible.
"At least I'm not the one she caught drooling on a book at three in the morning."
"That happened once! And I wasn't drooling, I was... contemplating deeply."
"With your eyes closed? And snoring?"
Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Just go do your research, man. Some of us have a date with hot water and muscle salve."
They parted ways at the courtyard intersection, trading good-natured barbs until they were out of earshot.
Adom watched Sam's retreating form until he disappeared around the corner of the dormitory wing. A familiar weight settled in his stomach - guilt. He wasn't actually heading to the library, and lying to Sam, even by omission, felt wrong.
But what choice did he have? Sam would either think he'd lost his mind or, worse, try to help by telling a professor. No, some secrets were better kept, at least for now.
The black cat headbutted his leg with an impatient "Mrrrow!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm moving," Adom said, turning away from the library path and heading toward the eastern exit. The cat trotted alongside him, tail high in the air.
"Meow! Mew mew!" The cat's complaints echoed off the stone walls.
"Look, I told you - I'm not exactly an expert in curses. The theory, sure, but actually breaking them?" He spread his hands. "That's advanced magic."
"Mrrrrrrrrrrow!" The cat somehow managed to sound both skeptical and annoyed.
"Oh, if you're asking about a solution?" Adom grinned down at his companion. "I might have one in mind. Though we'll have to see if-"
"Meow?"
"Patience. We're almost there."
They reached the massive eastern doors of Xerkes. The guards wouldn't make their rounds until late at night - their job was more about keeping students from doing anything foolish than keeping outsiders away. The enchantments handled that part well enough, allowing exits but preventing unauthorized entry. Adom reached for the handle-
"STUDENT ADOM SYLLA!"
He spun around. A glossy black raven circled overhead, a piece of paper clutched in its claws. As the bird released its cargo, the cat crouched, muscles tensing.
"Cat. Don't you dare," Adom warned. "That's an employee of the school."
The raven perched on a nearby gargoyle, looking down at the cat with what could only be described as disdain. Then, to Adom's amazement, it actually scoffed - a short, harsh sound that was definitely not part of normal raven vocabulary - before spreading its wings and taking off.
Adom's chuckle at the raven's attitude died in his throat as he unfolded the paper, reading Eren's familiar scrawl:
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Cisco wants to see you at the coffee spot in 2 days at 1pm. Says there's something to talk about. I sent a raven, but it came back and said it didn't find you in the main yard, so I left this letter. Hope that's okay.
- Eren
His heart dropped.
What happened? Was it about his order? The timeline flashed through his mind - one month and twelve days until the first symptoms.
His fingers tightened on the paper, crinkling it. Not enough time. Never enough time. Had something gone wrong with the ingredients? Maybe they couldn't get what he needed. Or worse, what if it was stolen? His breath quickened. Or was it about their operation? The one they'd discussed over steaming cups of coffee?
Please let it be about the operation, he thought, his mind spinning faster and faster. At least that he could handle. That wouldn't mean-
"Meow."
Sharp claws pricked through his pants leg, yanking him back to the present. The cat stared up at him, tail twitching.
Adom blinked, becoming aware of how tightly he was gripping the paper, of how his shoulders had tensed up to his ears. He forced his fingers to relax, stuffing the crumpled note into his pocket.
"Let's go," he said, pushing the heavy door open. No point torturing himself with maybes. Better to just find out.
The early night air hit his face as they stepped out into the city.
*****
The streets of Arkhos wound past like a familiar dream. Through the Weird Stuff Store's window, Adom caught a glimpse of her arranging crystals on a shelf, Mr. Biggins nowhere in sight. Emma was still there, she looked up, but he was already past, moving deeper into the city where the streets grew wider and the buildings shorter.
The strider station buzzed with its usual evening activity - drivers calling out destinations, passengers haggling over fares. A young man with bright red hair leaned against his cart, feeding his strider an apple.
"Beach district?" Adom asked.
The driver grinned, tossing the apple core aside. "Hop in."
The cart's wooden seats creaked as Adom settled in, the cat curling up beside him. They rolled forward with a gentle lurch, the strider's paws clopping against cobblestones.
Above, the full moon hung like a silver coin in the darkening sky. The autumn wind carried the scent of smoke from chimney fires, and Adom pulled his cloak tighter.
The steady rhythm of the strider's gait and the cart's swaying motion made his eyelids heavy. His muscles ached from the training session, and Cisco's message gnawed at the edges of his mind, but the exhaustion won out. He slumped against the cart's side, his breathing growing deeper...
"Mrrrow!"
Adom jerked awake to find the cat's paw batting his nose. The cart had stopped moving.
"We're here," the driver called over his shoulder. "Beach district, as requested."
"Thanks." Adom stretched, working out the kinks in his neck. "Any chance you could wait here for a bit? I'll need a ride back."
The driver patted his strider's flank. "Can spare an hour. That work?"
"Perfect." Adom hopped down, his boots sinking slightly in the sand. "That should be enough."