Eli walked up to where Madwen waited, her look sympathetic as he neared the door. He forced some semblance of a matching smile, trying to ignore the frustration bubbling in the back of his head. Once again, in a situation somehow outside his control, with limited time to accomplish his goals, he was getting pretty sick of how often this kind of thing kept happening. Still, it wasn’t like it was the fault of this simulated Madwen. Like him, she seemed just as stuck in this situation, and they both had to play out the roles set for them. Plus, at least this time, he wasn’t in a life or death struggle.

“Thanks for showing me your home,” he started, focusing on the positives of this experience. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it. I only wish I could have spent more time here to learn from you and all the knowledge so close at hand,” he cut himself off, hearing the irritation seeping into his tone. Taking in a calming breath, he put on the smile again. “I appreciate your efforts, and I’m sorry if I wasted this tome’s magic. I’m sure you weren’t expecting someone with essentially zero understanding of inscriptions.”

Madwen’s smile shifted into a more complicated expression, a mix of compassion, understanding, and maybe a touch of sadness. It made him wonder how many people the original Madwen had met and interacted with before creating this tome and the copy of herself. He’d already guessed that she must be ancient by his standards, with all the accumulated skills and professions within her home indicating a long life of attaining knowledge. Perhaps all that experience helped her with handling difficult personalities.

“There’s no need for an apology,” she said, the smile coming back, her lilting words somehow lessening the sting. “You simply followed your desire for knowledge, which led you here. I can only hope that you learn to temper such passions with a bit of caution and wisdom as you find your path. I’ve found that life’s challenges can often be overcome through intertwining what’s in here,” she said, holding a hand near her heart. “With all the wonder and power of our reality,” she continued, gesturing at the air. “More than that, who can say what our future holds within the Greater Infinite, where anything is possible?” she finished with a bit of humor in her voice.

She stepped up to the simple silver door, placing her hand against the metallic surface. It flashed with a pulse of white light before vanishing, revealing a lit interior.

“May you find the knowledge you seek, Initiate,” Madwen said with formality, giving him the barest of nods as she stepped away.

“Thanks, Magus Madwen, for everything,” he replied with gratitude, realizing that he’d already learned a few things within this simulation. If nothing else, he knew some of the wonders out there, how high the ceiling was for this new existence, and how far he still had to go. With another nod to his host, he walked through the opening.

Stepping inside revealed a white room similar to the strange space where he’d first met Madwen, though the walls didn’t blend quite as well together. There was also a single large block of some black material set in the center of the otherwise unadorned room. Presumably, it was the nishati stone she’d mentioned, especially with the single sheet of paper on top and the bright blue stylus beside it.

He was only a few steps in when a flash went off behind him, briefly casting his shadow along the floor. The room grew brighter as a screen popped into existence on the wall to his left.

“They really like to keep things simple,” he muttered, a little frustrated by the lack of details. At least there was a goal to shoot for, not that he understood how the rankings worked. “Well, I’m sure I’ll learn something. I mean, repeated failure has to teach me some sort of lesson, right?”

He really didn’t like the countdown timer, the seconds ticking away and forcing him to work more quickly than he’d prefer. Luckily, he had a pretty decent solution and reached for the familiar sensation, the air thickening in response. Within his slowed world, or hyper-thinking state where his mind seemingly processed information at a ridiculous pace, the floating lights stopped their whirling dance, the display’s clock frozen. He wasn’t sure what the conversion between subjective and objective time was, but a moment later, the countdown updated as another second passed for the reality existing outside his thoughts.

With a little breathing room in the deadline, he refocused on the challenge before him, triggering Manasight and nearly gasping at the new environment. With Madwen stopping him, he hadn’t been able to check outside for comparison, but this room was packed with tiny bits of floating colored fog slowly moving in eddies. There were even more than he’d seen during the trial, the miniature star-like objects filling much of the air.

The only aberration was around the black table, where none of the lights floated within half a meter. It was like there was some sort of barrier or that the mana wanted nothing to do with the material. Eli figured this was the sensitive energy she’d been referring to with the nishati stone, though he wasn’t sure why that was important to inscribing. Considering what little he knew about the topic, he wasn’t even sure why he had something resembling a pen. He’d always thought inscribing was more akin to carving some message into rock or maybe metal, like on a gravestone or a coin.

Heck, even something like the Rosetta Stone or the restored monuments in Old DC probably fit that description, but how is that different from writing? Is it the act of having to cut into a hard material? But then what does that mean here when I only have magic paper and a pen with no point?

Realizing he wasn’t going to solve the problem from that direction, he moved towards the stone table, each step glacially slow within his subjective reality. In the meantime, he focused on his recent experience with Madwen, hoping for clues. The woman had been a bit overwhelming in her knowledge and power, especially when he thought she was about to blast him to smithereens, but he’d also gotten the sense that she genuinely wanted to help. Even with her unable to teach him anything because of some agreement, he figured she might have let something slip during their time together.

When they’d met, one of the first things she’d mentioned was Eli’s quick throughput allowing for their interaction, and he guessed that Guide was to thank for that. Given how the tech in his skull was designed for rapid data transfers between itself, its host, and various databases, it made a certain sense. He wasn’t sure how that helped him with inscriptions, but it was something to file away for later consideration.

Madwen’s reference to the Greater System was also interesting. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the term since not only did Fluxi use it while threatening him, but Guide’s mysterious patch update was named after it as well. Both Wolf and the codex had mentioned the term, though it had been something out of myth or legend in that particular context. Still, there were obviously some enigmatic connections happening. Again, though, he wasn’t sure how that helped him with his current predicament.

Madwen’s comment about the tome’s single-use restriction snagged at another memory, and the scene from when they’d been lifting into the air came to mind. Focusing on that moment, he could almost see the intricate tile floor recede below them and him glancing over to find her beaming with joy as they ascended. He recalled the fear crawling up his spine as they rose but pushed it away while focusing on when she’d proudly explained how her Lofty Lift was based on an inscription.

Wait, but she also said that, unlike the inscription, Lofty Lift could be used repeatedly. Plus, it needed multiple masteries to work correctly. So taking that all together would imply that inscriptions are potentially single-use and simple. So combining that with something called spell paper gets me what? Of course!

The clue had been staring him in the face the whole time. Growing up, some of his favorite books involved objects called spell scrolls, essentially single-use spells but written in some mysterious code. If some weird language was needed, he was screwed unless he found some sample for Guide to translate. But what if it was like so many of the other magic powers and was more about his intentions and willpower?

Could I finally throw a fireball? Crap, but even if it works that way, how do I get the stylus to write?

Finally reaching the table, he examined its deep black color, seemingly reflecting none of the light, and frowned at the dimensions. Given how the top only came to his thighs and with no place to sit, he’d be bent over his work if he tried to stand.

Mentally shrugging the worry away, he focused on one of the thick blankets appearing in his hand. Moments passed without a change, and a glance at his wrist confirmed that his DS was there, but his hand remained stubbornly empty. Trying to send his mind within the storage bracelet didn’t work either, and he was left staring at the jewelry with no idea how to access its contents.

He frowned, realizing that his dimensional storage wasn’t working in this simulation. Trying to ignore the annoyance, he slowly moved down to his knees, which at least put him at about the right height for the paper. It wasn’t going to be comfortable, but it had to be better than awkwardly leaning over the work surface.

Under Manasight, the spell paper wasn’t just white anymore but had a slight blue glow. There was no pulse or movement to the illumination, but it looked like energy had been directly injected into the material. Rubbing a finger along its surface, it still felt the same, with a bit of slickness to its texture like high-quality paper stock.

He picked up the bright blue stylus, turning it around to look at it from different angles. It was about the size of a standard pen, maybe fifteen centimeters long, but with a little black nub on one end. He’d first thought the nub an eraser when he examined the real one the other day but now considered otherwise. After all, it was hard to erase anything when the other end was completely smooth.

Before he attempted anything else, he wanted a control test and started by trying to draw a line, the nub sliding against the paper. He might as well have used an out-of-ink pen with his results. Flipping it over to the smooth side and trying again met with the same outcome. He went back to the nub side, increasing the pressure to see if that changed anything, but stopped almost immediately. The slight indentation he’d left was sizzling, a wisp of grey smoke rising from the surface.

He pushed back from the table, falling onto his butt as he scooted further away while a noxious smell like burnt hair tickled his nose, reminding him of the nasty odors from his evolution. The smoke was already dissipating, but the paper now had a slight mark from his test line. It didn’t look too bad to his normal vision, like he’d dropped a lit match on it for barely long enough to scar the white surface. Under Manasight, though, there were minuscule little cracks like shattered tempered glass along the surface.

Staring up, lost in thought while thinking through the results, the floating lights reminded him of something else Madwen said. The scene was almost vivid, the way she’d mentioned overcoming challenges in life by using what’s inside us by intertwining it with the power outside.

Holy shit, was that a message too? She wasn’t just gesturing at herself, but right where her core would rest, assuming she had one. Then she motioned at the air, which could be the mana. Maybe I need to use both together? Or maybe sequentially? Hell, or it could be all sorts of combinations, but it’s at least a place to start.

But which energy should he try first? Admittedly, he wasn’t great at manipulating the mana floating through the air and had only gotten it to perform according to his wishes a few times. Even then, it was all the nearby mana reacting, which didn’t seem like a good idea in this situation. The power inside him, on the other hand, was much more manageable.

Figuring he’d start with something simple, he imagined a tiny trickle of energy moving to his hand. There was a slight tap inside his chest, and a bit of power slowly flowed from his core to the nearby channel, traveling up his torso and down his right arm. When the energy reached his wrist, the glowing material seemed to suddenly speed up, filling his palm with a bright light before disappearing into the stylus. At the same time, the little pen started emitting a soft radiance from within.

A little nervous about the fractured lines running through the glowing paper, he carefully bent over the table. Bringing the stylus into contact with the page, he nearly sighed with relief when there was no reaction beyond a tiny dot of white left on the surface. Moving the now illuminated instrument further along the surface left behind a ragged line of liquid white similar to the old correction pens some folks still stubbornly used over the cleaner, more modern products. He was near the end of the page, a grin starting to tug at his lips when the little white dot unexpectedly ignited. In the slow reality of his world, he only had a moment to realize he’d screwed up somewhere before the paper blew up in his face, and the world flashed brightly.

***

Eli gasped back to awareness, standing within the white room. Staggering back, he barely managed to catch himself from falling over, his mind still insisting he had to escape the explosion that had just occurred. But there was no blast of heat, no smoke, and everything had returned to calm normalcy. Before him, the block of deep black material sat waiting with the same unmarred paper and stylus.

“Holy shit,” he whispered shakenly, trying to get a hold of himself. He reminded himself that this was only a simulation, as had just been emphatically demonstrated. His thumping heartbeat needed a few more seconds to get the message, but the trembling in his knees eventually stopped.

“Really? A reset counter? I guess I get to see how much I suck. Yay me.”

Another aspect of the reset was that his Manasight and time power had turned off, so obviously, other things were changed when he screwed up. Still, it took only a momentary thought before the floating lights were back, filling up much of the available space even as they started slowing down under his temporal control. All things considered, he’d take a minor inconvenience when it went along with essentially no real consequences for his stupidity. It was a nice change from some of his recent experiences.

He started his slow return to his previous position while reviewing the last few moments before the explosion. On the plus side, he’d gotten the stylus to leave a mark, which was definitely something. Of course, on the negative side, he’d blown himself up. Also, he wasn’t sure what had actually caused the fiery detonation since it could be all sorts of things. There might be a time limit from the moment he started writing, or he’d used too much energy or added too much pressure, and so much more. Until he had more data, he’d have to keep testing.

Getting to his knees, he picked up the stylus again. Shaking it next to his head, he didn’t hear any fluids sloshing inside. An image of a monkey bashing a keyboard in frustrated fury came to mind, and he chuckled at the thought, thinking there was more than a bit of truth to it. Given the right circumstances, maybe he could recreate something amazing. But even with his temporal power, he didn’t have infinite time like the monkey in the saying.

Deciding to try the other energy option, he started by putting down the stylus, not wanting to set off a premature explosion. Next, he imagined the floating mana coming closer to test how it reacted. Staring for a few moments within his slowed world, the colored clouds of miniature stars barely moved, and he didn’t notice any nearby bits coming closer. Kneeling there, he tried to simply wait patiently for another second to count down on the timer, confirming that the mana definitely wasn’t responding to his desires.

Remembering the times he’d managed to make this work, he held a hand out while imagining a vacuum cleaner on the tip of his finger. It was a funny visualization, the end of his index finger replaced with a little tube trying to suck up all the air, but it seemed to work. Almost immediately, the nearest cloud of lights slowly shifted towards him, descending in a tiny vortex of swirling colors.

When only a few centimeters from his finger, he dropped his hand to the page, leading the little maelstrom down to the surface. Feeling a smile tug the corners of his mouth, he watched as the tip of the now tightly wound cyclone touched down. There was a moment as the multicolored clouds washed over the page, the blue glow intensifying. He barely noticed the little spark leap from the paper just before the world flashed red.

In the next instant, the very air ignited with fire. Before Eli had even felt the heat, he was already pushing himself away from the black table, trying to escape the inferno suddenly raging all around him. He opened his mouth, a scream already coming, but his airways were quickly flooded with searing heat. With his mind nearly overwhelmed with panic, he barely noticed when his vision went black, but the pain seemed unending as his body slammed hard to the ground.

***

Eli opened his eyes, already leaping away while his mind insisted he had to escape the inferno. Scrambling until his back was against the wall, he shook off the cobwebs and paused at seeing the reset world around him. All the flames were gone, and the spell paper rested innocently back atop the nishati table.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbled, instinctually pushing a bit of energy into his auric shield to awaken from this nightmare. The room shook, tiny black cracks spreading across the white walls. But his conscious mind finally caught up, and he paused, almost grunting with the effort of pulling back his power. The shaking subsided even as the cracks slowly dissolved back into the walls.

He tried to ignore the terror demanding he escape from this situation, instead focusing on his breathing while working through the problem. After all, he was alive and his body unburned. It was only a simulation, and even the pain was already only a memory. This was also an opportunity to learn more about his powers, the mysterious clouds of mana, and a new magical inscription skill. All were valuable enough on their own, let alone all together. Giving up felt like he was quitting more than just the training – like he was saying goodbye to learning about something important. If it was the choice between fleeting simulated pain and knowledge, there was no chance of him walking away.

***

Eli took in a ragged breath, realizing that he was back again. “Shit, that still isn’t easy.” Just as he did with every other reset, he immediately activated Manasight and the time dilation. The beautiful colored lights materialized in the air even as their swirling hues slowed until nearly frozen.

Almost two hours had passed on the timer, which wasn’t too bad considering he’d also blown himself up nearly a hundred times. Not every failure ended the same way, and he’d managed to badly burn his chest and face in one particular test. It had felt like he was trapped in a pitch-black existence of unending agony for minutes until the paper presumably finished burning to ash, resetting the simulation again. Still, the experience had reinforced how too much pressure on the spell paper was a BAD idea, and he’d been extra careful ever since.

At least he’d learned a few things while testing the stylus with the different techniques. First, picking the instrument off the paper once he’d started writing was a quick way to earn a new reset. Folding the spell paper was nearly as bad, where even the lightest touch after creasing the material set off a fiery detonation. Oh, and too much of either mana or his own energy met with similar results. He hadn’t yet managed to get the two to combine, but he thought that was more about his lack of control. Whenever he’d tried, the power inside him worked well, but he could only get large swaths of mana to respond, and the two coming together always met with flames and pain.

Staring up at the tiny lights floating through the air, he decided to spend more time getting them to react to his wishes. Even if nothing else came out of this experience, understanding how to get the mana to work with him would be worthwhile.

***

Eli opened his eyes to a new cycle and simply blinked for a few moments, trying to force his mind to work. He’d not slept since this started as he couldn’t maintain his time control while asleep. At least each cycle restored his physical energy. On the other hand, it didn’t seem to help with his mental fatigue, and it felt like he’d been working on this problem subjectively for weeks. This whole experience was really messing with him, his mind telling him one thing while the clock in his HUD and the timer on the wall told him something else.

He took some comfort in his progress, the training paying off with how easily his internal energy now responded to his intentions. Even the floating mana was finally listening to his commands, though still not entirely with the same level of control. He had a couple of hours left on the timer, and he figured his skills would only improve by the end.

He’d also learned something troubling about his time perception ability, something he hadn’t discovered even after using it repeatedly since landing in Lurra. He’d been practicing with the mana floating overhead about a hundred cycles ago, trying to pull in a narrow energy channel no wider than his pinky. He’d been at it subjectively for hours, though only about a minute had passed on the timer, and his eyes had suddenly blurred. At the same time, the room seemed to hiccup with a lurching movement, and the swirling lights jerked back into motion at their original speed. He had just a moment to notice that his time control had turned off before everything slipped away, only a dim hum filling his mind where he couldn’t seem to gather his thoughts. His awareness had eventually snapped back abruptly as if nothing had happened, but the timer revealed that nearly ten minutes had passed while he stared like a drooling idiot up at the floating colors.

Looking back afterward, he had difficulty grasping any concrete impressions beyond the droning sound that had overwhelmed his thoughts. His consciousness had seemed temporarily disconnected from reality, uncaring of the minutes passing by, like he’d been drugged up or nearly blackout drunk. The whole experience of losing control, of not being aware while technically awake, freaked him out. If that was the consequence of overtaxing his mind, of running it at high speeds for too long, he’d have to be extra careful. Consequently, he’d started thinking of his temporal power differently, calling it Hypermind as a constant reminder of what he was doing to himself.

With this in mind, he’d also instituted a new process. As usual, he’d start a new cycle by immediately triggering Manasight and Hypermind. Then he’d go about whatever task was next on his testing list, whether that was improving his mana control, internal energy manipulation, trying something new with the stylus and paper, or a myriad of other experiments. But if that cycle closed in on a minute of objective time, he’d purposely rip the glowing spell page in half, causing a nearly painless explosion to start the whole process again. That way, he never got anywhere near the strange slowed-mind situation. It seemed pretty insane to purposely set off an explosion right in his face, but he didn’t want to waste the little time he had left.

The last few cycles had started out well, and he’d finally managed to get the two energies combined. Unfortunately, they acted like opposite poles on a magnet, trying to fly apart at every opportunity. The trick wasn’t to force them together. Instead, he continued pushing his energy into the stylus. At the same time, with the black nub as the target, he drew in the narrowest stream of mana he could manage. Once there, the end would light up with its own illumination, as if informing him that it was ready to get to work. He’d then move the stylus across the page, the action somehow sending the energy he’d stored within the pen’s body into the nub. There, it would mix with the mana to leave a trail that resembled liquefied rainbows.

While creating the beautiful magic ink, he’d simultaneously hold an image of a fireball in his mind, but it was like trying to think of three things at once. Every time his thoughts wandered for even a split second, the line would ignite. Still, there was nothing to do but continue trying until his time ran out.

***

“Shit, I was so close that time,” Eli groaned at the ceiling a moment after the newest reset, the world already slowing down while the lights materialized around him.

It had taken more than a hundred tries, but he’d finally figured out how to inscribe the paper without instantly incinerating himself. It wasn’t quite as tricky as thinking of three things simultaneously. Instead, it was like subconsciously humming a song, working on a spreadsheet, and carrying on a conversation. The challenge was carefully balancing each but allowing none to take his full attention.

He couldn’t even describe how close he was, but there was a rightness to the experience as he slowly drew the stylus across the page, the hundreds of fiery lessons guiding his hand on when to angle the nub one way, turn somewhere else, change the pressure, or inject a little more of one particular energy. All while constraining the spell within the specific limits he’d set. Unfortunately, his mind constantly intruded.

Every time I overthink this, I screw up. Damn, and there’s so little time left.

He walked back to the nishati table, the few meters taking minutes within his Hypermind state. On the way, he cleared his mind of doubts, reminding himself that he’d already learned a ton during this experience. Regardless of the outcome, there was far too much that he’d gained to ever consider this a waste. Plus, how else would he get to practice without dire consequences, especially considering that he’d have killed himself hundreds of times if he’d tried this outside the simulacrum?

Kneeling down as he’d done so many times, he picked up the stylus and stared at the blank glowing page before him. While a slow inhalation filled his lungs, he reviewed his updated theories. It was admittedly only a guess, but he was pretty sure that the energy held within the paper was unstable and messing up released all of that energy instantly. Intermingling his power with the mana only increased the inherent instability. Yet his willpower, his desired outcome, bound everything together to keep the explosions at bay.

It also wasn’t enough to just imagine a fireball; he also needed to consider the constraints like size, speed, how much energy to use, trajectory, and everything else. He’d spent hours subjectively considering all the criteria he thought were necessary and then tried each. Through trial and error, each mistake forcing an explosive reset, he’d learned the requirements to make it a little further with his inscription.

In addition, with the incredible control from Hypermind, he could move the stylus as slowly or carefully as he wanted. He’d even started using his other hand for support, the bracing under his right wrist helping as he worked out the best way to accomplish his task. Sometimes he needed to pause, holding the stylus in place as he focused on weaving a bit of the intertwined energies into the page. Other times he needed to move at a specific speed, the rainbow ink trailing behind. When every little twitch could end in a reset, he’d learned the hard way how to hold and manipulate his hand and arm muscles until they followed his exacting demands.

Leaning slightly over the glowing page, he slowly released his breath, and the stylus touched the paper along one particular corner where he’d learned to begin the inscription. After hundreds of hours of practice, he’d memorized every movement he needed to make. By now, he had a detailed diagram of what he wanted to create and simply had to follow the pattern engraved in his mind. Unfortunately, the hundreds and thousands of tiny details kept getting in the way. He couldn’t rush, though, and pushed away any uncertainty to focus on his goal.

He visualized a basketball-sized fireball while a trickle of energy flowed from his hand into the pen, making it glow. He layered on a desire for power to accumulate right at the end of the black nub, and a tiny line of light no thicker than a hair descended from just beside his head. The moment the shifting colored mana touched the end of the nub, his hand moved.

With his eyes unfocused, he lost himself in the different sensations as his intuition guided his actions. He wouldn’t let his mind intrude but simply turned the stylus one way before angling it slightly around a tricky turn. Pausing at a particular spot, he injected one of the fireball’s spell constraints before continuing. Elsewhere, the nub almost lifted off the page, the rainbow trail growing faint before the pressure increased again. Back and forth over the paper, the stylus continued along the path marked indelibly in his mind. All the while, he slowly pushed more of his energy out while pulling the mana in.

There was a moment when the stylus lifted off the paper, and he blinked, the shape of the drawing pulling in his eyes until he couldn’t look away. It was a complicated geometric shape crossing and crisscrossing across the page, a single line that turned back on itself multiple times, broken up by little dots of rainbow liquid representing his spell’s criteria. Yesterday, seeing this, he might have said it was the meaningless swirls of someone using a faulty pen. Today, though, the shape of a controlled inferno emerged from the chaos.

The lights in the white room dimmed just before a bright light shone behind him, casting his shadow across the page, faintly glowing with bridled power. Surprised, he began his slow turn when he noticed that the display, his constant companion for what felt like weeks, had vanished. Realizing who must have come to congratulate him, he released Manasight and Hypermind, a smile already forming as he completed his turn.

Madwen was standing in the open doorway, yet she wasn’t wearing the beaming smile he’d expected. Instead, her perfect features stared at him with such intensity that he was almost surprised that laser beams weren’t shooting from her eyes.