Gambling with Time

With a huff, John plopped down onto the living room couch. With all his agonizing over Skill selection, the morning had slipped by, and there clearly wasn't any point in going to school this late. If he pushed himself, he might be able to bike to Ashcroft in about an hour and a half, but he would arrive exhausted, drenched in sweat, and having missed half the school day. He certainly hadn’t been excited to go to school to begin with.

‘So, what am I going to do with the rest of the day? I don't have any Quests, and I don’t know any other way to gain XP. So, grinding Levels is out. Looking for new Skills seems like a poor use of time now that I can’t learn them instantly. The only other option is to power level the Skills I already have. Gamer’s Spirit and Body are already maxed out. Masturbation is… no. Observe has been undeniably useful, but I think I’ll work on that tomorrow. Strategically spamming it in the school library would be a good way to level it up and to find prospective Skills. It kills two birds with one stone.’

That just left Craft and Biomancy to contend with, Active Skill versus Passive Skill. On the surface, it would seem to be an obvious choice. Only Craft could be engaged directly, but it also demanded resources that he did not have and could not afford.

‘I could go to the scrapyard on the edge of town and collect a bunch of metal to play with,’ he thought as he searched the catalogs of local hardware stores and countertop suppliers for a source of quartz slabs. ‘But the day would be half over by the time I got there. If I want to beat Mom home, I won’t have much time to collect anything. Christ, quartz blocks are expensive.’

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if he had no way to engage with Biomancy. The passive was explicitly an effect of his understanding of biological manipulation. In theory, he could draw that understanding out by just attempting to apply it.

‘If it already passively affects my body, then I should be able to draw an active Skill out by intentionally changing it, but what to change? Maybe something cosmetic. I could change my hair color or make it grow longer. I can get a haircut if it ends up looking weird. Or I could try something more functional. I do want to improve my physique.’

“I also want a bigger dick. Maybe I should start with that,” he half joked before checking the time on his phone. Scarcely fifteen minutes had passed, but the blind slippage of time continued to stoke his anxiety.

‘Ok, I’ll give myself an hour. If I can draw something out of biomancy in that time, I’ll stick with it for the rest of the day. If I can’t, I’ll go to the scrapyard, stuff my inventory with junk, and come back here to make a shit ton of iron daggers.’

After setting a timer on his phone, John removed his jacket, rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, stretched his arms out before him, and, as he had done earlier that morning, visualized the limbs growing larger, more pronounced musculature. His subconscious Skill responded with a tepid simmer.

An itch formed on the back of his head, and a warmth radiated from it. Slowly, the warmth descended down his spine then crept through his shoulders. Whether real or imagined, lines of pale, silver light snaked their way towards his fingertips, warming his muscles as they crawled along.

To grow his muscles, they would need to be exposed to an increased mana flow. John could not cut new paths for the flow of his mana, his now boiling subconscious told him that much at least, but he could nudge the existing flow. His thoughts poked at the bends of the streams forcing them out to meander wider, slower paths. The lingering mana seeped into his muscles, raising the pleasant warmth to a nearly uncomfortable heat.

In his impatience, John pressed a little harder against the bends of his mana. The streams of magic swelled, and his limbs ached and throbbed with the redoubled heat. His biceps began to swell as they took on new growth. Definition began to form beneath the muscles as they consumed the surrounding fat. Even as the discomfortable heat grew, John pressed against the flow until something in it shifted suddenly.

John howled, “Fuck!” as the nerves in his arms erupted in searing pain. His biceps contracted violently, slamming his arms against his chest, knocking the air from his chest, and seizing them in place. Their new growth collapsed, leaving bloated, yellow pustules scattered across the limbs.

The sudden jolt of pain rattled his hold on his mana. Reflexively releasing it, John freed his arms then barreled into the kitchen to douse the burning muscles in the sink’s cold running water. The cool flow soothed his muscles as the blistering heat quickly waned. The pustules lingered a little while longer, but soon deflated, leaving no trace of their existence or of any growth of the muscles.

New achievement: Too Fast Too Furious
Free form magic ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Reward: +1 Wisdom

Skill Level Up: Biomancy level 2
Reward: +5 HP

Laughing through the shock, John thought to himself, ‘Oh god, I’m so glad I didn't try to make my dick bigger. I am never trying that again. Five HP isn’t fucking worth it.’

Leaning against the countertop, John soaked his arms until the pain dulled to a throbbing ache. After shaking his arms dry, he returned to the living room, and plopped back down onto the couch.

‘If I’m going to power level Craft, I should at least have a goal in mind.’

Conjuring a goal proved to be a difficult task. His inability to enchant meant that the blank emitters, the only components capable of producing magical effects, could only act as an uncontrolled outlet for the unguided flow of mana. Add to this his inability to acquire the crystalline materials needed to attune or store mana, and his thoughts, guided by subconscious bubbling, drifted only to the emitter's weaponization.

‘Flesh has a much higher mana conductance than air. So, even at low flow rates, direct contact with a powered emitter should deal significant damage to the surrounding tissue. The effect could be strengthened by attuning the supplied mana to a particularly violent element. The electric discharge of elemental air could produce a powerful stunning effect.’

Letting his head fall back against the couch, John shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. His frustration with his new abilities grew steadily as variants of the same alien train of thought repeated themselves with each attempt to push towards practical, non-violent applications.

“I might have picked the wrong Skill Book.”

His phone began to ring, the hour timer having come to an end.

‘Welp, There’s no going back now. Might as well see where it takes me.’