“Minister Ames has graciously offered for you to participate in his granddaughter’s history and politics lessons. I have taken the liberty to accept on your behalf," Elder Yue told him neutrally, her dark eyes scanning for any hint of complaint on his part.
Orion fought the urge to sigh, knowing it wouldn’t accomplish anything but risk irritating the powerful woman, and nodded in acceptance, “I will be glad to. When are they happening?”
Satisfied, she nodded toward Magistra Kissea, who had been in the process of showing him a specific variation of the standard [Heal] spell that required more Knowledge than usual, which he felt suited his needs better than the typical “pray the pain away” method that most witches used.
“The good Magistra here will arrange that for you, to fit in with the schedule you currently have. The Minister gave us free hand in setting the time, as long as it happens twice a week, for at least two hours each session.” With that, Yue turned around and left.
Orion was tempted to call her back to argue that he should choose his own schedule, but he knew that having a Veil Priestess interested enough in him to arrange for extra lessons wasn’t something everyone could brag about.
Of course, not everyone could say they had invented a completely new type of casting focus, nor that they had used said focus to extract a promise of protection from that Veil Priestess.
But I am a patient man. I can tolerate minor indignities if it means more freedom down the line.
He also knew that his success with the Computing Crystal had placed him in a strange position within the embassy—half protégée, half fugitive. The staff bowed a little deeper than they had two days earlier, and doors that had been previously closed to him were suddenly open.
At the same time, guards followed him whenever he went past the manse wall, more to show he was under Elder Yue’s protection than for any real need.
Especially after Antares showed up at the mou shop. That really made everyone nervous.
Sadly, he had no other options, as going back to the Sanctum now would mean risking exposure to Morliana. Yue had promised a way home, but it wouldn’t be ready for weeks. Valderun would have to do for now.
“Come do real research,” echoed in his mind as he watched Yue close the door. Once, Orion would have killed for such an invitation. Now, with Asteria under Yue’s protection and back to being her apprentice, and Cyril’s politics heating up, the challenge felt different. He wouldn’t abandon his mother for that man, no matter what he promised.
For now, the plan was to watch and learn. Only once he was truly informed could he decide on his future, and it would take some time for things to settle down enough.
“We’ll schedule these new lessons for Mondays and Fridays,” Kissea said, drawing his attention back. “In the morning. You’re less argumentative when you’re still waking up.”
“I’m perfectly agreeable at all hours,” Orion said, vaguely offended.
“Mmh,” Kissea replied without even looking at him. “Now. Where were we before we were interrupted?”
“Your heal variation,” Orion said. “You said your spell doesn’t take the generalized approach most use, but that it asks the body to remember its healthy state.”
“That’s not a bad way to put it,” Kissea nodded. She tapped the slate between them with a chalk nub. On it, she’d written a clear sequence of glyphs with small notes in the margins. “[Heal], as taught in the Sanctum, can be a blunt force, requiring the pouring of Light mana into a wound until it stops bleeding. Unfortunately, I’ve found that it is not always enough, and while higher-tier spells solve that problem, those are not always available.”
Basically, she’s drawing from the genetic blueprint, he thought, and something inside him jumped to attention. He could sense the shape of an equation at the tip of his tongue, as ideas and concepts foreign to this world mingled.
On the bench between them, a rat in a cloth-lined box looked up and made a noise that was probably a complaint. Kissea had nicked its flank earlier with a blade, a shallow and clean cut, and it was to be the unfortunate recipient of his first tries.
“Sorry,” Orion said, though he knew the beast couldn’t understand. He started breaking down Kissea’s spell, turning it over in his mind. Her glyph for “template” described something more basic than DNA, but it was good enough for someone who had never heard of the concept.
He could develop a version of this externally, allowing Light mana to penetrate tissue and accelerate mitosis where necessary, while adding a dampener to proliferation pathways and a kill switch for cells that surpassed the replication limit. It would work, but it was crude and likely to cause more health issues than it would solve.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The instinct to use the Computing Crystal was there, but he wanted to try it himself first. It’s a double-edged sword; I need to be careful not to rely on it too much, or my skills will atrophy.
Orion closed his eyes and visualized the diagram in the dark. A double helix represented as two braided strands of Light held together by his will, started to take shape.
He combined the helix with the body’s template, layered in a query from Kissea’s method used to find “what was,” and replaced her clean comma with one of his barbed brackets, creating a limiter that instructed Light mana to shift only where the body’s recorded pattern exceeded its tolerance.
Lastly, he limited growth factors. I’m not going to give this poor thing super cancer.
“Ready?” Kissea asked.
“Ready,” Orion said, and lifted his hands.
He chose the smallest possible dose of mana first. The spell left his hands and spread across the rat’s flank as a warm glow, sank, and through [Verification Principle], he felt a small knot of wrongness untie and then re-knit in the old pattern.
Blood slowed its seepage, and torn skin sealed.
The rat blinked, looked downward, and gave itself a cautious lick, followed by a more confident one, until it decided this was acceptable after all. It wriggled slightly and settled down with a sigh.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
+1 to Attunement
+1 to Mind
+10.250 Exp
Level up!
Kissea watched him closely. When the glow of his spell disappeared, she set the chalk down and leaned back. “You didn’t use my spell,” she said.
“I did use it as the basis,” Orion said. “I just added my own flair.”
“Mmh,” she hummed, but eventually smiled. It made her look almost motherly, though he wasn’t fooled. He knew she could be very scary if she wanted to. “You are truly your mother’s son. She was always experimenting, too.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and truly meant it. Asteria was regarded as a prodigy for her rapid ascent through the ranks. Being compared to her was a compliment.
“Go,” Kissea said, flicking a hand toward the door. “I know that look, you have an idea and want to test it out. Come find me if you get in over your head, but otherwise, feel free to experiment, as long as no innocents are involved.”
And wasn’t that a change from the Sanctum's increasingly stifling atmosphere? Truly, Elder Yue created a good environment. He could see why she was so opposed to Morliana now.
The embassy’s corridors shifted as he walked, the walls expanding and contracting, shortening the distance he needed to cover, in sharp contrast to how it once seemed intent on slowing him down.
Orion found his mother in a potions lab with her hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, and a semicircle of vials arranged around her cauldron, each containing slightly different shades of liquid.
He examined the ingredients list and whistled quietly when he saw clearly labeled wyvern blood and manticore venom. Some of what she had used would have cost her annual stipend several times over.
She noticed his approach without turning around. “Don’t even think about touching anything,” she said. “I’m replenishing my supplies, and a single drop of this undiluted stuff is enough to kill you.”
“I know,” he said, though the instinct to poke was there.
“Good. Now go.”
Knowing better than to interfere with a woman and her poisons, Orion left her behind, glad that she was enjoying her new responsibilities as Yue’s apprentice.
I couldn’t have known, since I only ever knew her after they split up, but she really seems to enjoy working for that old witch.
With the only potential source of interruption safely occupied, Orion returned to his room and took out his Computing Crystal, watching in fascination as it reflected the light.
He inhaled and let the new heal spell unfold inside the lattice, offering it for inspection. The Crystal accepted it and then began to prune, refactor, and rebuild the entire structure.
Lines fell away. Others snapped into place. His triple-check on the cellular replication danger condensed into a single composite designed to repair DNA by drawing from a broader area than he’d initially targeted.
The final output was a compact, elegant structure. HEAL(t) = Light x Align(tissue(t), Template(DNA?)), limit=Homeostasis, guard={dReplication/dt ≤ τ ∧ |ΔTemplate| ≥ ε}
He tested the model dry first and was pleased to note that, compared to his initial attempt, Light mana flowed more smoothly, targeting phantom areas with impressive efficiency.
Satisfied he wouldn’t accidentally kill himself with an untested spell, Orion took a simple steak knife from his desk drawer, which he had smuggled out of dinner the night before, and pricked his finger.
“Let’s see the limits of this thing,” he muttered.
The Ames manse had a polish that could only come from generations of wealth spent freely, aiming to stay elegant without following trends.
It exuded graciousness and nobility, never taking unnecessary risks and always maintaining a dignified presence. Dark wooden floors were polished to a shine, while plush rugs muffled footsteps, allowing the attendants to move quietly.
The guards at the gate recognized Orion and waved him in with great courtesy after giving him directions.
Ophelia met him in the second foyer, with a bounce in her step that showed she was on her way to full recovery. Her hair was braided in a new pattern, with loops fastened by tiny silver clasps, and she wore loose clothes that looked designed for comfort, yet still remained quite elegant.
“You’re on time, I was worried you’d be late,” she said, sounding surprised, pleased, and a little accusatory all at once. “Good. Maybe I’ll get through this torture."
“You make it sound dire,” Orion said, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.
“It is dire,” she said. “Grandfather will teach us himself. He knows everything and wants you to know he knows everything. Also, he seems to think I should find everything he talks about interesting. I’m starting to worry he might be sick.”
“How dreadful,” Orion replied drolly.
The sitting room they entered resembled a classroom, with a low table holding ink and paper, chairs that were comfortable but not so much that one would risk getting distracted, and a tray of water and pastries that probably served as a bribe for good behavior.
The Minister of Rites sat on the sofa, waiting for them, with the light casting his profile in a way that some would probably appreciate more than he did. A book was open on a stand beside him, which he closed when they entered, showing the title as “In Depth Considerations of the First Oskernan Revolution.”
He gestured for them to sit, and they did, glancing at him with curiosity. Despite Ophelia’s serious warnings, Orion was curious and hopeful that it wouldn’t be quite so dull.
“Good morning,” Minister Ames said, his voice low and gravelly. “Let’s dispense with courtesies. There is too much to unlearn.”
He paused for a few seconds before delivering the punchline with the skill of an expert speaker. “Almost everything you likely know about Cyril’s history is a lie.”
enjoy the story and would like to read more, are available on my .
