“That was easy,” said Nimbus five minutes later as we stood in the courtyard behind the North Forest Node. He hopped on top of a pile of broken rocks and began grooming himself before looking at me suddenly. “What’s your problem? You look like someone just smashed your banana.”
I didn’t even realize I was frowning until Nimbus pointed it out to me, and I shook my head. I sat down on an overturned, flat stone and pulled out my Codex Stylus, feeling its light weight in my hands as I played with it absently. “I just thought our first Synced Quest would be, I don’t know—something more than checking the weather.”
Nimbus glanced at the Codexium behind us nervously. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly, now. The Codex has ears.”
I raised an eyebrow at Nimbus. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Not literal ears, you silly human,” said Nimbus with a shake of his head. He perked both of his ears up. “Though if it did, they would probably be nice, long ears like mine. Much better than those stubby little things on the side of your head that you humans call ears. How do you hear anything with ears that small?”
I rolled my eyes at Nimbus’s comments. “At least we got a few more Words from the Codex Quest, even if it was only three.”
The rewards were honestly pretty paltry, but it had been a Scribbled Quest, the easiest quest level difficulty, and Isaac had already warned us that most Scribbled Quests got you basically nothing. I’d gotten exactly 3 Words and 2 points to Insight, as it apparently required great insight to step outside, hold my portable in the air for five minutes until it finished recording weather data, and then go back into the Codexium and press my portable against the North Forest Node until the data successfully transferred into the Node. I didn’t even know why I needed to be synced with Nimbus to do it, as Nimbus didn’t even do anything except hop outside with me and demand to know when we were going back to the market in town to get more bananas.
On the bright side, I’d gotten another Achievement for completing my first quest, which had given me another 4 Words on top of the 33 that I’d already received from syncing with Nimbus and completing the Scribbled Quest, respectively, bringing my total to 37. The Achievement had also thrown in 1 Intelligence point, though I didn’t actually feel any smarter after applying it. Isaac told me that Insight and Intelligence mostly affected my mana pool size and the Margins for my Skills, but he also admitted that he wasn’t sure how those stats affected me, specifically, since I didn’t have a traditional mana pool like every other Codexer in the world did. My Word count in my Casting Pool didn’t go up with the extra points to Intelligence or Insight, I can tell you that much.
Nimbus received similar rewards to me, which I was able to confirm by briefly looking at the new Codex Beast tab available to me on my UI. It looked like Nimbus would generally receive the same rewards for completing Codex Quests as I did, though he would not receive any Achievement rewards, at least not until we were permanently synced. This went both ways, though, because if Nimbus got rewards from an Achievement, they wouldn’t be shared with me.
According to Isaac, this was a limitation of temporary Codex syncs, like what Nimbus and I currently have. If we were permanently synced, the Codex would treat us as one entity, allowing us to share rewards from Achievements and Quests alike. Under our current temporary partnership, however, we were seen as individuals who just so happened to be working together. I got the impression from both Isaac and Nimbus that this wasn’t the worst limitation of temporary Codex syncs, but it was worth noting nonetheless.
But we did share Codex Quest rewards, at least if they were Synced Quests, like the one we just completed.
Synced Quests were a special type of Codex Quest available only to Codexers and Codex Beasts synced to one another. They usually require both partners in a sync to work together to complete. They were the kind of quests that couldn’t be completed by just a human Codexer or a Codex Beast. And according to Isaac, they usually gave out superior rewards compared to Quests designed for individual Codexers or Beasts.
But again, I felt like the Codex must have been messing with us because the track the weather quest, though labeled as a Synced Quest, didn’t seem to require us both. Okay, I guess it did because Nimbus also needed to record the weather inside his Codex Core, but I didn’t know why the Codex needed data from both of us. Isaac couldn’t explain it, either, other than that animals reacted to weather changes differently than humans and probably recorded data differently. Nimbus agreed, saying that he recorded weather in a very different way than I did, and that the Codex was probably using the data to keep its records up to date.
So okay, I was wrong. Nimbus did do something. Yet I still didn’t see why this needed to be a Synced Quest when it seemed like something we could do just as well individually.
I mean, it made sense, even though I wished that I’d gotten some of Nimbus’s Words to add to my Banked Progress. It just made me all the more determined, however, to ensure that Nimbus and I formed a permanent sync within the next six months. I wanted unrestricted access to all of the benefits of permanently syncing with Nimbus. More than ever, I was convinced that it would benefit us both.
After we completed the quest, Nimbus and I went outside to the courtyard to study our Codex sheets, practice the spellchain, and learn how to work together. Out here, the ley lines under the Node fatten every spell—Isaac swore that the courtyard was safer and steadier than the woods. Isaac wasn’t here because he claimed to have ‘important’ work to do, though given how he’d been drinking from his beer bottle when he said that, I suspected that ‘work’ was just a synonym for ‘getting drunk.’
That was a good reminder of what we came out here to do. I pulled up Nimbus’ stat screen and got to see his stats for the first time:
Name: Nimbus
Species/Class: Cloud Rabbit / Familiar-Class
Age: Unknown
Codex Type: Core
Current Sync Partner: Aaron Thorn
Union Type: Temporary
Codex Node Anchor: North Forest Node
Codex Discipline Link: Inscriptionist
Faction: None
Known Regions of Activity: First Kingdom - North Forest
Chapter: 1
Page: 1
Words: 50/250
Mana: 35/35
Health: 35/35
Stamina: 25/25
Intelligence: 25
Instinct: 15
Resilience: 20
Affinity: Sound
“Hey!” Nimbus hopped into my lap roughly and glared at me. “Are you looking at my Codex sheet? Without my permission?”
I nearly fell off the rock I sat on when Nimbus jumped on me, mostly because he was heavier than he looked. Sitting upright, I glared down at the rabbit sitting in my lap. “We’re partners now, Nimbus. That means I can look at your Codex sheet whenever I want. That’s what being synced partners means.”
Nimbus wriggled his nose. His golden eyes flashed as he seemed to access my Codex sheet. “Turnabout is fair play, then, and—oh! Why are you so much weaker than I am?”
“I was going to ask the same question, actually,” I said in a disgruntled voice, glancing at Nimbus’s Codex sheet again. “Across the board, you have way higher stats than me even though we are in the same Chapter and Page. You even have more Words than me. What’s up with that?”
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Nimbus hopped off my lap and stretched. “It’s probably because I’ve been completing quests for the Codex in the wild for a while now and getting all kinds of nice rewards. You, on the other hand, just became a Codexer yesterday. No wonder I find it hard to respect you. The difference in power between us is simply staggering.”
I scowled, though Nimbus’ explanation checked out. “It’s not that insurmountable. I’m reasonably confident we’ll equal out eventually, especially if we keep completing Quests and I keep getting achievements. But can you explain some of the differences between your stats and mine are? Specifically, what do Instinct, Resilience, and Affinity do for you?”
Nimbus looked up at me again with a rather judgmental expression. “To put it simply, Instinct is what lets me notice danger and traps around us that aren’t immediately obvious, Resilience impacts how well I can survive in the wild on my own, and Affinity refers to the element that I am most compatible with. For example, because Sound is my Affinity, it’s easier for me to learn sound-based spells than any other type of elemental spell. All Codex Beasts have these stats.”
I immediately toggled over to Nimbus’s list of learned spells, as Nimbus’ stat screen looked similar to mine, other than being under a different tab. “Do you have any sound-based spells? Like a sonic scream or something like that?”
Nimbus’s ears drooped, and he looked away. “I … used to. But most of the spells and skills I have now are defensive or supportive in nature. Like my Phase Step skill.”
Another thump of his foot, and Nimbus disappeared and reappeared next to the pile of equipment where I’d found Inkwyrm. He thumped his foot again and reappeared beside me, looking no worse for wear for having used that spell two times in a row. He did, however, look a little bit more tired than usual.
I frowned as I looked at Nimbus’s spell list, which, indeed, lacked any kind of sound-based spells. He had four spells, and none of them were elemental. Even Mimic Echo, which let Nimbus copy a weaker version of a spell I had previously cast, was categorized as a Utility spell and not an Elemental one. “What do you mean you used to have sound-based spells?”
Nimbus looked away from me again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I dropped the subject, but it was clear to me that I wasn’t Nimbus’s first synced partner. Losing his spells must have had something to do with whatever happened to his first synced partner and Nimbus’s past that he didn’t want to talk about. I still had so many questions about Nimbus’s past and what he experienced back then, but it seemed like if I asked him too many questions about his past, he might run away and end our current partnership.
So instead, I wanted to ask Nimbus about something else strange I noticed about what he just said. “Wait a minute, you called your Phase Step ability a skill rather than a spell. What do you mean by that? Phase Step isn’t one of the Eight Skills.”
Fortunately, Nimbus appeared to be willing to talk about that, because he turned back toward me with a raised ear. “We Codex Beasts do not have access to what you humans call the Eight Skills. But we do have access to certain inherent, species-based skills that we can use independent of spells. They don’t even require mana to use, though they still have cooldown limits and other limitations. For example, because I am a Cloud Rabbit, that means that one of my species skills is my Phase Step ability, which I just demonstrated for you. If I were a different species of Codex Beast, like Herod’s horse, then I would have a different species skill.”
I stroked my chin thoughtfully at Nimbus’s explanation. “What kind of species skill does a horse like Darkspike have?”
Nimbus shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m not an expert on species skills. I really only know about the unique species skills of my particular breed of rabbit. I would suggest talking to either a beast tamer or the Codex Beast itself if you want to know what their species skills are. Though fair warning, most Codex Beasts don’t like to tell random humans their species skills because they can frequently make the difference between life and death. Knowledge is power, after all.”
I considered Nimbus’s Words as another question came to mind. “But if your species skills are not fueled by mana, then what are they fueled by? How do they even work? And why don’t humans have them?”
Nimbus scoffed. “I don’t need to know what the source of my species skills is to use them, any more than you, as a human, need to understand how fire works to create a fire in the woods. As for why you humans don’t have them, it is probably for the same reason why you don’t have long, beautiful ears like mine. Something simply went wrong with your species when you were being brought into existence. It probably isn’t your fault, even if it tragically leads you to looking quite ridiculous.”
I ignored Nimbus’s comments about my ears as I thought of another question. “So, how do you level up your species skills? I don’t see anything indicating what Chapter or Page they are on.”
Nimbus’s ears drooped slightly as if I had just asked a rather personal question. “That’s one of the limitations of species skills. Unlike spells, you can’t improve them through practice or use. They only get better as you turn the Pages of your Codex and get stronger. So if I am ever lucky enough to reach Chapter Two in my Codex, then my species skills will improve. I have also heard rumors that Codex Beasts get new species powers as they progress, though I haven’t been able to confirm those myself.”
I suddenly felt a lot less envious of Nimbus’s species skills now that I knew they couldn’t improve through effort or training. At least with spells, such as my Arcane Light spell, it was possible to rank them up through practice and use—though I still didn’t quite understand how that worked, either. I would have to ask Isaac about it later. He seemed to be in a more cooperative mood ever since Herod attacked us.
Thinking about Herod and our encounter with him earlier sent a shiver down my spine and reminded me that I had 37 Words that I needed to distribute.
I currently had 36 Words in my Banked Progress pool and only 12 in my Casting Pool. I knew from experience that I merely needed to mentally choose the number of Words I wanted to put in each pool, and then the Codex would distribute them as I saw fit.
This time, however, I was a lot more torn about how I should distribute my Words. If I wanted to maximize my Chapter progress, then I should logically dump all of my earned Words into my Banked Progress. If I did that, my total would be 73 Words, which would not be enough to reach Page Two but would get me a decent chunk of the way there.
On the other hand, if I were going to be practicing my spellcasting, then I needed more Words in my Casting Pool. Yes, I had a handful of free spells that required no Words to use, but they were pretty weak, and I wasn’t sure if they could even rank up like other spells. Even if they could—what if I found myself in another combat situation like with the bandits? I couldn’t rely on Salome or Isaac or anyone else to save me all the time. If I were going to cast spells, then I needed to have some Words.
Not for the first time, I found myself frustrated with my Discipline. Normal Codexers could simply put all of their Words toward their chapter progression and rely on regenerating mana to fuel their spellcasting. Yes, even normal Codexers could run out of mana, but like I said, it would regenerate eventually, and there were even special mana potions one could drink to instantly restore a portion of their mana. I wondered if a mana potion would work for me or not, but since I didn’t have any at the moment and they were pretty expensive at the village market in town—even more expensive than the bananas I purchased for Nimbus this morning—I didn’t think I would get a chance to test that out anytime soon.
My gut feeling was that a mana potion wouldn’t do anything for me, because that seemed like a very obvious exploit that the Codex probably didn’t want me to take advantage of. Because if I could just regenerate spent Words by drinking a simple mana potion, then I would never need to distribute any Words to my Casting Pool at all—or at least not quite as many.
But I made a mental note to test out the mana potion theory as soon as I could. I suppose I could have tried asking Isaac, but since he didn’t seem to know anything about my Discipline, that didn’t seem like the best way to find out.
Nimbus, scratching one of his ears, glanced up at me with his usual annoyed look. “What are you doing? You went really quiet all of a sudden, even though you kept pestering me with your annoying questions about rabbits and Codex Beasts. Did you fall asleep or something?”
I shook my head and looked down at Nimbus in annoyance. “I’m trying to decide how to distribute my Words between my Banked Progress and my Casting Pool. It’s one of the quirks of my Inscriptionist Discipline. Instead of mana, Words go into either my Banked Progress or Casting Pool, and I can’t undo my choice after I’ve made it. Also, my Words don’t regenerate like mana, either, so I need to be careful with how I use them.”
Nimbus looked at me with something resembling pity in his eyes. “Wow. The Codex must really hate you if it gave you such a weak and pointless Discipline like that.”
I grunted. “I prefer to think of it as the Codex giving me a challenge.”
Nimbus wriggled his nose. “I wish I could be as delusionally optimistic as you humans sometimes. It would be fun to look at the world from your point of view, even if it would only confirm that the rabbit’s perspective is the correct one.”
I quirked a brow at Nimbus. “Yes, I noticed that you have Words and mana like a normal Codexer, yet you are linked to my Discipline. What does that mean?”
Nimbus scratched his ear again. “All it means is that I have access to your spells through the spellchain. Though after looking at how your Discipline works, I’m not sure I can actually use any of your spells unless you have already cast them yourself, and I use Mimic Echo. I have no way of writing glyphs like you, which appears to be a requirement for most of your spells.” Nimbus shook his head. “Yeah, the more that I think about it, the Codex hates you.”
I was starting to rethink my decision to sync with Nimbus when he mentioned something I had almost forgotten about. I snapped my fingers, the sudden sound making Nimbus jump. “The spellchain! That’s it! Thanks, Nimbus. You just helped me figure out how to distribute my Words.”
“I did?” said Nimbus in a genuinely confused voice.
But I didn’t respond to his question right away. Instead, I went into my user interface and threw 34 of my points into my Banked Progress and 3 into my Casting Pool. A notification popped up asking me if I was sure about this, and I clicked yes without a second thought.
Looking at Nimbus, I said, “All right. I put most of my Words into my Banked Progress and a handful into my Casting Pool. I now have 15 Words in my Casting Pool and 70 Words in my Banked Progress.”
Nimbus wriggled his nose once more. “That seems extremely lopsided to me, Aaron. How are you going to cast spells with such a small Casting Pool? You can’t even rely on your Words in your Casting Pool to regenerate.”
“You are right,” I said to Nimbus. “If I’m wrong, the next real fight will expose it—and Words don’t grow back. But if I’m right, I have a secret weapon that will let me cast spells without having to rely entirely on my Casting Pool.”
Nimbus looked at my finger in confusion. “Your finger?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m talking about you. You and, more importantly, the spellchain.”
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