The onslaught of the Faes took a breather at the end of the day, a lull that Thorin measured with his ‘Spirit’ climbing to 4.35. His one day of meditation in the mana-rich cave, bolstered by the potion, had yielded what normally demanded a full month of cultivation. If the surge of mana held and the potion’s effect endured for a week, he could seize the chance to break through the second layer here. But the potion and the mana might last; it was the team of six he worried about now. The first day of non-stop raids had left them weary and battered.

  “This was the last wave for now,” Iver said when Wolf returned from his turn of bashing the Faes’ skulls in. “The mana tide will recede. The spell array will be enough to defend us. So, rest, heal, and meditate. Don’t waste the potion’s effect.”

  Thorin emerged from deep meditation as the rise of his ‘Spirit’ slowed. The rush of the river dwindled into a creek. The mana density in the cave was still much higher than the outside, but it wasn’t enough to support the boosted meditation like before. Thus, Thorin began to think of ways to solve the problem at hand.

  The mana tide would sustain; the potion would too. How could he make sure his defenses were up to par, however? How could he prolong the benefit? From several rounds of fighting the raids, he’d realized his current weak point. Apart from his chained blades, he lacked a spell for controlling the field. When the Faes rushed at him, he had to play against them on their terms and timing. Therefore, he always reacted instead of acting first. His

  could play a controlling role, but it leaned more towards sustained damage than binding the targets. Same as its twin spell

  .

  There was no other way. Since he couldn’t buy any spell right now, he had to learn a new one from the arcana.

  “How long can we rest for?” Thorin asked, taking out the ‘how to’ book.

  “A few hours, give or take,” Iver said. “If you need to do something, you can do it right now. Just don’t leave the premises.”

  “I’m thinking of learning a new control-type spell,” Thorin said.

  “I think I’ll do the same,” Clay said. “I’m having trouble with the numbers they come at me with.”

  “I’ll just keep swinging my axe and my blade,” Quin said with a chuckle, cleaning his bleeding wounds with fresh water. “Eventually, I’ll be able to kill them all.”

  “Learning a control spell is a good idea. You seriously need it,” Casper said. “You three have been quite shaky so far. You’re making it hard for me to concentrate on my meditation.”

  “I was just unlucky with my Faes,” Thorin said, glancing at him. “If you met the moths of your level, you wouldn’t fare any better either. I remember seeing you sweating when the powder came at us. And I killed them all in the end, didn’t I?”

  “You saw wrong,” Casper said, closing his eyes in meditation again. “Be it the moths or the bats or the mosquitoes, I have ways to end them all. Even if the Golems come in the next waves, I can handle them.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Clay said, scoffing.

  “Alright, end the quibble now,” Iver said, butting in, but his voice fell on deaf ears.

  “Instead of catching your breath and healing your injuries, you fight like children,” Wolf said, glaring at the three in the quarrel. “If the array breaks because of you all, I’ll feed you to the Faes myself. Mark my words.”

  “I would like to see you try and touch my brothers.” Quin joined in as well, baring his fangs at Wolf in a grin.

  “Do you really think you can stop me?” Wolf asked back, narrowing his eyes at him. “Do you not understand the sheer difference in our levels?”

  “I don’t,” Quin said, snorting. “Why don’t you teach me?”

  “Alright, enough!” Iver yelled. The bounce of his echo hushed the rowdy cave. “Everyone’s on edge, I understand that. But if you waste your energy with petty fights like this, the array will break. We’re all together in this. Once any one of us loses, we’ll all collapse. Forget about the meditation boost then, we’ll struggle to stay alive. So, stay calm, lose your heat. Like I said, rest, heal up, and think about how to prolong the benefit here.”

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  “I’ll go scour one of my arcanas for a suitable spell,” Thorin said.

  “I’ll do the same,” Clay said and walked over to sit with Thorin to read the book together.

  “I’ll brew some potions, just in case we do meet some nasty ones,” Casper said.

  “I’ll meditate,” Wolf said.

  “I’ll heal my wounds,” Quin said, taking out some healing spellcards.

  “Yes, you all do that,” Iver said, passing a sharp stare by each of them.

  ……

  “Which arcana are you choosing?” Clay asked as they prepared to connect after reading the book.

  “Only spells from death and space can be effective immediately without turning them into fusion spells,” Thorin said. “I’ll pick one of the two. What about you?”

  “I’ll go with the mind arcana,” Clay said. “I have a spell type in mind. I’ll see if I can find the proper spot for it. What was it called again? Spell-event?”

  “Yeah, spell-event,” Thorin said. “I think I’ll go look at the death arcana first, see if I can find what I need.” He chuckled when a thought passed his head. “Maybe mother will help me again and gift me another spell.”

  “If she does, she really might just strip you naked and even take your underwear as compensation,” Clay said, laughing.

  “What about that oaf?” Thorin asked, looking at Quin bandaging his wounds that he didn’t heal with the spellcards and his spell. It would be wasteful to use them on such minor wounds, he said. “Will he be alright like this?”

  “His and spells are helping him a lot,” Clay said. “If he thinks he can handle the waves with those spells alone, we can only agree and let him be. Just in case, let’s hand him all our control-type and healing-type spellcards.”

  Thorin hummed a nod. “Let’s connect now,” he said. “Don’t spend too long in there.”

  He closed his eyes in the cross-legged position and traced the primitive spell model in his soul space. It was of the Death Arcana, and it only had one effect that it carried since the early ages of the Magi. Once the lines and the curves joined and formed a complete circuit, a force from the arcana tugged at Thorin. All the details followed what the book had mentioned. So, Thorin let go and went with the flow. Before long, his eyes opened to the sight of a ghostly forest drowning in dense mist.

  He appeared in the Arcana in his physical form, yet his hazy skin seemed to melt into the mist. Dreamy and ethereal. The sky-reaching trees, the bloody moon, the grim sky, and the floor of the dark forest were the reality here instead. Even the whispers of the Ghost and their frigid breaths complemented the surroundings more than he did. He was the outlier here.

  Despite his affinity, even with the support of his ‘mother’, the world of Death Arcana and its inhabitants could reject him. The book had said so. Thus, he trod with care at every step, searching for a proper spell-event. Some Ghosts peeked at him from the darkness of the woods that stretched beyond a few footfalls, while some followed his trail and stalked him. They wouldn’t attack him, he thought. His heart and the blood it pumped in his veins deemed it so. But his understanding of the situation failed him as a Ghost in tattered cloak finally took the plunge at him with a screech.

  Nevertheless, Thorin was prepared.

  Deathbolt!

  A black ball of mist shot through the Ghost before it could come close. It dissipated into the mist with a dying wail. The good news was that spells from the Death Arcana were stronger and more efficient here. The bad news was that Thorin couldn’t eat the Ghost that he killed in here. Else he wouldn’t need to go to the Southern Whispers battlefield anymore.

  “Too bad,” he muttered and walked ahead. With some other Ghosts attacking him from time to time, Thorin tested most of his spells. His conclusion was to stick with the Death Arcana spells that received the boost here, instead of other spells that took a hit in efficiency and prowess. Even his mana regenerated slower when he used other spells, while it sped up with death-type spells.

  After trudging through the woods for what felt like an endless night, he reached the outskirts of two walled towns facing each other. From a vantage point, he overlooked their premises and the battlefield they shared. A row of armed skeletons trickled out from both towns and battled it out in the clearing that carried a pile of shattered bones and weapons on withered earth. Whenever a skeleton died, the town spawned another and sent it out to fill the gap. The never-ending war on the ground also had a counterpart in the sky where the ferocious Ghosts ripped each other apart with deathly shrieks. What Thorin had met so far, in the real world and inside the Arcana, were a far cry from the Ghosts in the sky. In looks and in strength. It was more apt to call them Wraiths at this point.

  “Spell-event,” Thorin said under his breath.

  ?