Jacob looked at the Earth Wall his aunt had just conjured at clapped with enthusiasm. It was such a mundane experience that it allowed him to feel almost normal for the span of ten minutes before he resumed the preparations for the imminent catastrophe.

“Your walls are good, Aunt Linda. Can you manipulate some earth without having to channel the Mana through the Spell?”

Earth Wall was part of a family tree of magic that left a permanent mark on the world. It would need actual earth to be used unless one conjured some from other elements, which would make the Mana cost of the Spell sky-rocket.

“Yeah, I tried as you said, but it’s hard,” she groaned, tired and sweaty after an entire morning of practice.

“Well, we can use Earth Wall to make makeshifts wall around St. Peter, but you will need to harden them to make them serviceable. Otherwise, even I could punch through them in a matter of minutes. The skill is not made to resist sieges, and you have to manipulate the earth yourselves to build things. It’s good practice, trust me.”

“Yeah, Jackie, I know. You have just said that two-thousand times, don’t worry.”

His aunt was acting childishly, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Aunt Linda could be extremely silly, more than a five-year-old when she wanted.

“How’s your Fireball game?” Jacob inquired.

“Could make you a lasagna mid-air. That’s how good it is.”

“Burnt, as per your specialty, I guess,” Jacob snorted.

His aunt snorted herself, but with fake solemnity, and declared: “You have no filial piety. Your ancestors should be ashamed of your insolent behavior.”

“Your ancestors are probably wondering if you killed them yourself when they last ate your lasagna,” said Jacob and began running away immediately after.

A Fireball grazed his butt with astonishing precision.

He yelped and got away from his screaming aunt, who was now barely containing her laughter.

He had to meet with Helena, since he had promised to teach her how to wield a sword: a decision that, unsurprisingly, had not been welcomed by Juliet. Jacob had come to the conclusion that the latter hated Helena for her haughtiness and I’m-a-perfect-child aura. He would swear that sometimes she looked like she had a holy halo around her.

More importantly, he had tested his aunt’s proficiency. It was now the third day after the apocalypse, and she had already reached the 5th level of Magic Cultivation. (Author’s note: I want to point out myself how this nomenclature is SO inconsistent. I’ve been referring to magic cultivation, Magic cultivation, Magic Cultivation, and maybe other stuff too. I know about it. It will be edited when I’ll finish the first volume altogether around the end of November. After the NaNoWriMo, I’ll start editing all this stuff to make things more coherent. I beg your forgiveness for the moment.)

Her Qi cultivation was still at the 1st level, sadly. But such was the nature of the Hell Devouring Cultivation Technique, a huge imbalance toward Mana. As a result, Aunt Linda would become a terrifying spellcaster with frail defenses, a textbook glass cannon.

Helena had talked his ears off after he had come back, asking for details, why some people had died, and how they had found so much treasure.

Jacob’s job had been to explain briefly to her what happened, and then he left Juliet to explain to the other adults, together with Fred. He, instead, had gone to sleep. Really, to sleep. His brain had not been working properly, and the wear on his body was getting real.

After sleeping a couple of hours, he had gone and checked on the progress of every whom he had given a Cultivation Technique to.

Geneva and Marina had already leveled to the 4th stage of the Cockroach realm yesterday, and they had been pushing for the 5th in the evening. Geneva, in particular, had received a Martial Style from Jacob made for Halberd warriors and had been practicing that non-stop.

Jacob checked his own body. He had spent the entire morning in the forest looking for herbs and killing roaming Demonic Beasts. They had seven to ten days before the nest erupted with a new horde of Charybdes. He had ‘cooked’ another healing paste after finding a couple more of Three-Colored Stalks. His body would need at least a few days more of not near-death encounters before he could go and try to eradicate those damn parasites.

“Yo,” he waved to Helena, who was clumsily swinging a wooden sword he had carved with his own weapon from a log of wood.

“Hi, Jacob,” she said frostily.

“Sore loser? I whooped your ass yesterday night.”

Helena had wanted to learn how to wield a sword after discovering how good Jacob was from Frederick. The catch was that, for once, she was not good at something.

“The sword requires abnegation. You won’t learn it easily as you think, even if you are talented. It’s like trying to go from elementary school to a PhD position in a month. It will take years before your swings will feel comfortable.”

“It’s a goddamn sword, Jacob. How hard can it be?” Helena fumed.

“Well,” he snorted, “I don’t know. From how you are almost poking your eyes out with a stick, pretty hard, I’d guess.”

He started teaching her and sparring, forgetting for a moment about all the organization he had to attend to. He just got lost in the feeling of a fight, using another wooden sword he had made for this exact purpose.

In an hour, he would go into the school’s secretary’s room. They had transformed it into a war-room to plan the attack on Fort Mountain and furnished it with maps from tourists guides.

Sh*t was getting honest, but Jacob finally felt he was at least somewhat ready for it with a sword in his hands.

THIS ‘SWORD’ HAS A NAME!

Jacob ignored the sword’s malcontent and immersed himself in the quiet before the storm.