[Biological Restoration 3 > 4]

  My mutated skill is far more versatile and open to adaptation. It’s closer to the intricate perfection that the system imposes, and each cast gives me a headache, but that’s okay. I’ll learn. The structure is even more complex, demanding a ton of mana as I form it, but it’s also a lot more universal.

  It adapts to the ant’s biology with ease, and new flesh grows easily, cells multiplying rapidly under the enhancement of mana. It’s curious, and I watch closely as the spell takes effect, letting the bad bits decay at the same rate as healthy biomass is produced. It works as an antibiotic and a probiotic at once, strengthening Elis’ immune system. The venom gets disintegrated as a foreign body, and her metabolism speeds up, letting her chew on a ton of food to fuel the regrowth.

  A chunk of my mana directly helps as well, but she still needs calories. Maybe with more points in vessel I could fully supply all the energy needed for the healing, but that might require an extra module.

  But. Knowing about skill mutations is an exciting notion. As I routinely cast heals, getting my mana topped up by the entire colony, I think it over. I already know I can modify my skills, so it makes sense that when I cross a threshold they’d change.

  Until now, though, that change was reflected in levels. Levels that make them stronger, better, more efficient. This biological restoration takes far more mana to restore far less flesh, but at the same time, it is more complete. Worst case, I can still cast the old version. I was unsure if I could heal bones with that one, but now I definitely can.

  Does it work on plants? Fungi? More questions, and no answers.

  I hum to myself, watching as Elis feasts on more food. She looks healthier by the minute, and the caretakers are practically swarming us, observing my magic at work. Meg looks at me, chittering gratitude and happiness and at the same time a request to teach.

  “No,” I say. “I don’t think any of your kids are gonna be suitable to learn the spell. I almost killed myself a handful of times while learning it.” Especially that first time looking at the spell was a wild ride. Thinking of it still gives me a headache, but I don’t wanna lose the memory.

  That really oughta be my next project. A memory palace. Right after enchanting, freeform runic inscriptions to trace in the air, figuring out if chanting and incantations of hand sigils are a thing, as well as experimenting with my healing and magic breaking and learning more runes and…

  Okay, maybe I have a lot of projects.

  I sigh softly, getting up and stretching. The ant is knitting itself together, the effects of my spell apparently lingering for a longer while now. Elis chomps down on a ton of food, turning to me. A moment passes, and an antenna presses towards me, almost questioning.

  Slowly, I tilt my head at it, then shrug and step forward. The antenna touches me on my forehead, and I feel that same bond as with the haughty ant that brought me to the colony spring into being. A wisp of connection that lets me feel what they think a little.

  Elis is stronger, though, and catches a deeper glimpse of my emotions.

  She shivers. Afraid. Just like Dar did.

  I smile, sadly. “Me too, buddy.”

  But, despite the fear, she doesn’t shrink back. She looks at me and expresses gratitude and a sense of debt. I tilt my head a little. Is she asking me how to repay it? I wave my hand. “Don’t sweat it too much,” I say. “Your mom was just noisy about it.”

  Elis tilts her head and clicks her mandibles in displeasure. Apparently she is still ‘sweating it’, though the expression doesn’t mean a whole lot to her. Which, reasonably, I could have expected. I sigh softly and tap her with my senses.

  [Warrior Icon, lv. 32]

  I hum, just a little. She’s strong. Really strong. I can tell she could’ve taken the cave crawler one on one. She has a class, probably a job, too, and a high supremacy level. Could I take her in a fight? How did she get so hurt?

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She sends me images of an ambush by a great centipede and its minions. I hum again. The plan was always to take the ants into the city, right? Or to lure the paladins to them. If I can get Elis in on it… well. Let’s just say I don’t need it to be a fair fight.

  Slowly, a vindictive smile creeps onto my face.

  “Alright,” I tell the warrior ant. “I got an idea…”

  - - -

  When Opal comes back, they find me with Bay in a room that is rather hot. Forges burn with tended fires, mushroom charcoal being fed to the flames. The ants, somehow, have industry. Most likely, a few of them even have blacksmithing jobs, giving them essence and knowledge about it.

  Otherwise, I struggle to imagine how the colony managed to set up a smeltery and forging implements. The ants have tools, made to be used with their mandibles. Hammers that bend at odd angles, coatings to put over their mandibles, letting them press down into the metal like vices.

  And then, there are Bay and me, two humans, sitting around and helping. She’s made herself a couple crude tools, a hammer and a few wrenches, tinkering with smaller metal scrap, using skills to shape and form them. She’s making more bombs.

  I get to work on them, too, applying some inscriptions. I draw them on with my fingers first, then manifest a stylus of solid mana, and trace them in. My runes are jagged. Big and clunky, way different from the almost-invisible work of the system. But they work.

  Plates of metal turn more durable after being forged, mana coursing through them. We experiment with applying the runes first, then forging, but it kinda messes up the process. There is a small explosion or two, but none of us get too splattered with molten metal.

  Having the colony helping me is lovely, mainly because they’re like an infinite font of mana. I run through my vessel dozens of times over, enchanting and inscribing every piece of scrap they let me get my fingers on. My hands are stained black by dust and smoke, and I desperately need a bar of soap, but I [Suppress] the disgust.

  Opal kneels down next to me, watching as I drag my stylus across a bomb, drawing whirls and jagged edges into the smooth sphere. “Whatcha working on?” they ask.

  “Bombs,” I answer.

  “Mmmh, very insightful,” they say. “I meant what you are contributing, dummy,” they tease.

  I smile a little. “Mana shrapnel. I’m turning them into minor cores, making fuses obsolete. Jess helped me figure that out with her fire ability. The mana lights a small spark in the middle, then condenses into a crystalline shell. It’s gonna blow skill-dispelling shrapnel all over.”

  [Inscription 6 > 7]

  The echo knight gives me a low whistle at that. “Very cool,” they say. “Can you modify my sword?”

  “Probably,” I nod, “but I’d encourage you to see if there’s not some function of your skill already doing that. I’d wager there is.”

  Opal nods. “Yeah. My heart makes it tougher, my power makes it sharper, and my vessel amplifies any skills cast through it. Also, it gets bigger, more malleable, as I level it. I’m pretty sure that with me being an echo knight, it’ll eventually let me manifest armor.”

  “That’s awesome,” I say. “Opal, knight in shining armor, there to save all the princesses in the world.”

  “Nah, just princes. And nonbinary children of monarchs. Princexes?” They think it over, then nod. “That works.”

  “Of course, of course. Leave the princesses to fend for themselves, and…”

  “And romance the dragon,” they nod, smiling. “Think there’s some kinda jewelwork profession?”

  I nod. “For sure. Magic and gems always go hand in hand. I’d love to try inscribing something like an Opal,” I tease.

  “Ohhhh, biological inscriptions. Like when you traced stuff on Sylves to heal her better. But permanent. Think we could do tattoos, rather than dragging that…” they point at my stylus, “thing through my skin.”

  Maintaining a deadpan expression, I make grabbing motions towards them. “Nope,” I hum. “C’mere Opal, let me give you some scars. They’ll be magic. Trust me.”

  My friend scrabbles back across the cavern floor. “Oh, nonono. Absolutely fucking not. You get that thing away from me.”

  I laugh out loud, putting the grenade and stylus aside, and pull them into a quick, tiny hug. “We’ll figure out something cool for you, don’t worry,” I say. “I’m already working on making inscriptions just from mana. Amelie has been showing me her threads, and I’ve been trying to copy something similar.” I let them go, pulling back, having filled my need for touch for the next week. “Did your mission go well?”

  Opal smiles, arrogantly. “Yeah. I caused trouble and we stole stuff. Thatch and Jess made it back?”

  “They did,” I confirm.

  “Then all’s well. I got an invitation to some noble party. Think the paladin will be there?” they ask.

  A smile spreads on my face, and widens. “Oh that’s devious. Yeah, they’ll be there alright. Churches never miss a chance to spread the good word. Let me fill you in on what the ants have planned.”

  When I’m done, Opal grins, wide. “Oh hells yes. I love it. Let’s have Sylves make us some clothes so we’re ready to party, eh, Ion?”

  I grin in return. “Let’s do just that.”