12. Tristan: A New Teacher

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me to train a little kid at reaving…” Dante shook his head, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall of Vortalis estate.

  “Shut up.” Rosalina snapped, her arms crossed as well, gesturing toward Tristan with her head. “Another remark like that toward Ifrit’s son, and you’ll be struck down where you stand.”

  “Another remark? What remark? He is a little kid!” Dante snapped.

  Tristan cut in before she could retort. He refused to let these adults control his situation. He was an adult as well.

  “Why do you care what age I am? If you know your trade, then you can teach it. The rest will be my problem.”

  Dante smirked, shaking his head. “Listen, kiddo – “

  Tristan didn’t let him finish.

  “Don’t call me kiddo, or kid, or anything of the sort.” His voice was sharp, carrying and utilizing all the weight of his father’s influence. “Or you will be executed.”

  A tense silence filled the room.

  Rosalina’s expression shifted slightly, almost like she was impressed.

  Dante, on the other hand, let out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes narrowing on Tristan. “You don’t even sound like a kid at all…”

  Then he turned to Rosalina, ignoring Tristan completely.

  “Ifrit told me I’d be teaching his son.” He said. “I was already surprised to hear he even had one, but I agreed because I thought I’d be training someone…older.” He gestured at Tristan. “Not this. Not a six-year-old.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “Teaching a kid how to reave? And worse, use reaved magic? Are you all out of your damned minds?!”

  Rosalina raised an eyebrow.

  “Damn,” she said, feigning amusement. “A Thread Reaver with morals? That’s new.”

  Dante ignored her.

  Tristan took a step forward.

  “Forget about my age, fool.” He said, his voice even fiercer now. “Just teach me!”

  Dante’s eyes widened for a brief second at the insult before his lips curled into a sharp grin.

  He clearly wanted to retort – to put this brat in his place – but he stopped himself.

  He had already agreed to the deal.

  And Kain Vortalis wasn’t exactly someone you could go back on a deal with.

  Hell, Ifrit was the kind of man you couldn’t even decline an offer from in the first place.

  Tristan watched as Dante paced around the room, his footsteps slow – he was thinking.

  ‘Good.’ Tristan thought. ‘He’d agree soon enough. The guy was a criminal. All this moral high ground nonsense? That was just for show.’

  And then, Dante stopped.

  His entire posture shifted, his shoulders tight with frustration.

  “You don’t even fathom what you’re asking for.” Dante snapped, growing furious. “It’s one thing to reave, but it’s a completely different thing to use the reaved magic.” He turned to Rosalina, his anger boiling over. “Giving something like this to a kid will just make him a junkie for magic from a young age and you know it!”

  Tristan’s stomach twisted.

  ‘Junkie?’

  Rosalina sighed deeply, rubbing her temples before casting a quick glance at Tristan. There was a flicker of worry in her expression. But it vanished eventually.

  She turned back to Dante. Her voice steady. “Do what you were paid for, Reaver, or your head will roll.”

  Dante exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression filled with anger.

  Then, suddenly, he let out a shout. “Oh, fuck it! I don’t care!” He threw his hands up. “It’s on your conscience, not mine!”

  His eyes snapped back to Tristan, filled with…disappointment.

  “Come here, kid. I’ll show you what Reaving is all about. How abhorrent it is. Let’s see if you still want it when we finish.”

  Tristan’s heart raced.

  He took a slow breath, but doubt gnawed at his mind. He still didn’t understand how Thread Reaving worked exactly, nor what long-term effect of using stolen Cognition Threads would be.

  But the way this Thread Reaver – Dante – spoke about it made it sound a lot like drugs.

  And Tristan knew a thing or two about those.

  Back on Earth, he had never taken anything himself. Out of all the crimes he had committed, selling was one thing – but consuming? That would just be stupid.

  And yet…here, he had no choice.

  The Vitalis couldn’t fix his magic. The Mind Shaper couldn’t either.

  Which made sense as Tristan knew his problem was tied to Gartan somehow.

  The Alchemist was still on his way to Stulan.

  And Tristan knew that if Ifrit couldn’t get his magic active, he would have him consume as many Cognition Threads as he needs to. And if Tristan refuses, he might actually just dispose of him.

  But Tristan wanted it for himself as well. He wanted the power.

  After just feeling the presence of Ifrit, he knew that if that’s the strength a person could reach in this world, then he would do anything in his powers to reach it – and even surpass it.

  He took a deep breath before following Dante.

  ‘If this is what it takes, then I’ll do it.’ He told himself.

  But he wasn’t going to rush in blind. He would watch. Listen. Plan.

  Surely, there was a way to control this rather than being controlled by it.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The Thread Reaver approached the large fabric bag he left by the entrance. He knelt down on one knee, muttering something inaudible under his breath before he loosened the straps and pulled open the top.

  Tristan stepped forward instinctively, trying to get a better look – but the moment Dante reached inside, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

  From the bag, Dante withdrew a sturdy wooden compartment with a glassy, transparent lid. Inside, it was fitted with individual cushioned slots to hold several small glass vials securely in place. The design ensured none of them could knock into the others.

  But the real horror wasn’t the wooden box. It was what was inside the vials.

  Tristan’s stomach twisted as he got a closer look.

  Each vial contained a small, writhing white worm, no longer than a pinky – but their bodies…they glowed.

  Each worm pulsed with a different color – an entire spectrum of them. It was as if something deep inside of them was alive too.

  Goosebumps rose along Tristan’s arms.

  Even on Earth, he had hated bugs. But this? This was beyond disgusting.

  Dante noticed his reaction immediately, and a slow smirk stretched across his face. “Ahh…so the little prince isn’t fond of the creepy wormies?” He gave the box a slight tilt, letting the worms shift inside their vials. “And here I thought nothing could shake you.”

  Tristan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay still despite the revulsion itching at his skin.

  Dante smirked, stepping toward a nearby table and placing the wooden box on top before turning back to him.

  “You’re creeping me out more than the worms, really…” He studied Tristan carefully. “What did they do to you, kid? You’re not acting like a kid at all.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure, keeping his expression unreadable.

  ‘So, he’s not just muscle.’ Tristan thought. ‘There’s enough of a brain there as well.’

  Before Dante could say anything else, Rosalina stepped between them, her expression darkening as she uncrossed her arms and looked at Dante. “Do. Your. Job.”

  Her words were as sharp as the sword on her back.

  Dante let out a long sigh, straightening up. He turned his attention back to Tristan and continued reluctantly. “This, kid, is just the beginning.” He gestured toward the vials. “If the mere sight of a Reaver Worm is enough to make your stomach turn, just wait until you see what these little bastards do to a human brain.”

  Tristan forced his expression to stay neutral, to assess control, but his skin crawled at the thought.

  “Reaver Worms…” Tristan repeated, rolling the term over his tongue. “What are they exactly?”

  Dante’s expression grew serious as he leaned against the table.

  “People always want what they can’t have.” He began as he waved his hand vaguely. “It’s just human nature, I suppose.”

  He lifted the glassy lid and pulled one of the vials out, tilting it slightly to watch the worm inside squirm.

  “And for the vast majority of people on Terra, that ‘thing’ they can’t have…is magic.” He set the vial back to its place, his gaze returning to Tristan. “No matter how smart someone is, not matter how much they understand the world, not matter how much power and status they hold, if they aren’t born with an Inner Eye, they would never be able to weave Cognition Threads and use magic. And that…didn’t sit well with some people.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Rosalina interjected.

  Dante rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to keep it kid-friendly here.”

  “I already told you before – don’t treat Ifrit’s son like a child.” Rosalina said. “You’ll explain everything in detail, or I will. The Young Master can take it all. This was Ifrit’s wish.”

  Dante sighed deeply. Clearly, he wasn’t enjoying this deal at all.

  “Fine.” He said, turning to Tristan. “There were wars. Between mages and non-mages. Many of them. There were human experiments. I won’t go into detail despite what your babysitter wants me to do, but let’s just say it was a dark age to live in.”

  He turned to Rosalina sharply. “Better?”

  Rosalina nodded slowly.

  Dante continued. “For centuries, people tried to artificially give magic to themselves. To steal it from the mages if needed. But there was no way to do it. Until…one man changed everything. His name was Velren Daemir.”

  The name hung in the air, unfamiliar to Tristan, but still sounding eerie enough to make him uncomfortable.

  “Who was he?” Tristan asked.

  “A genius. A madman. A disturbed individual, that’s for sure. And a wanted criminal who was never caught.” Dante replied, tapping on the lid of the box. “He was the one who figured it out. The one who finally found a way to transfer magic.”

  Tristan’s gaze flickered to the worms inside the vials as he made his way closer to the table. “Through these things?”

  Dante nodded. “Reaver Worms. In the past they were simple, regular worms. They were just harmless little things that burrowed in wet soil and ate decayed matter. I bet they even had a scientific name, but that was so long ago, no one actually remembers what it was.

  “Velren Daemir discovered something incredible. He learned that these worms had an unusual trait. When they consumed something, they didn’t digest it right away. They stored it. Held onto it. Slowly absorbing the essence of whatever they ate before breaking it down. For how long? It depended on a lot of factors, but sometimes it could be years.” Dante cleared his throat before he continued. “But his second revelation - the wildest of the two - was that they could consume Cognition Threads.”

  Tristan shook his head. It didn’t make sense to him.

  Cognition…it was something mental. It wasn’t physical. A product of the mind. How could a worm eat something like that?

  Dante seemed to understand Tristan’s confused expression right away as he continued almost immediately. “These little things don’t just latch onto your brain. No. If you're a mage, they go straight for the Inner Eye. They make their way straight into the gateway to magic itself and rip a Thread right out.”

  Tristan stiffened. His jaw clenched at the disturbing explanation. He couldn’t stop imagining these little worms crawling inside someone’s head. It made him want to vomit.

  Rosalina exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You make it sound cleaner than it is.”

  ‘This was the clean version?’ Tristan wondered.

  Rosalina continued, turning to Tristan. “A Cognition Thread is deeply woven into the mage’s being. It’s not something that is just grabbed. No one knows what pulling one out will do to the person until it happens. Some mages never recover from it.”

  Dante clicked his tongue. “That’s just objectively wrong. Most mages recover and grow their Threads back.” He turned to Tristan. “Once you understand something so deeply you weave a Thread, that understanding doesn’t just go away because a Thread Reaver took it. In time, the mage recovers it.”

  “But not always.” Rosalina interjected again, turning her gaze to Tristan. “Don’t let him dress this up as something cleaner than it is. These are the lies Thread Reavers tell themselves so they can sleep at night.”

  Dante rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear it from the Devil’s slave.”

  She ignored him, keeping her gaze locked with Tristan’s. “If you’re going to do this, you need to know the whole truth.”

  Tristan studied her carefully.

  ‘Is she trying to get me to drop this?’ Tristan wondered. ‘But she knows this isn’t an option. It was Ifrit’s decision. Not mine.’

  Besides, the way Tristan saw it, he needed this. His life of hardships would just be even harder without magic.

  ‘Gartan already fucked me over.’

  He needed this.

  So, instead of wasting time debating morality, Tristan turned to Dante.

  “You explained the extraction part,” he said. “But what about the recipient? How does it work? What are the downsides?”

  Dante flicked his eyes toward Rosalina, silently judging her, perhaps waiting for another interruption. But when none came, he leaned forward and continued. “It works the same way, but in reverse.”

  He gestured toward Tristan. “The worm enters the recipient’s body, just like it enters the mage it steals from. If the recipient is also a mage, then it finds its way to their Inner Eye. If they’re not, then it goes to the next closest thing – the human brain.” Dante pointed at himself. “This is where Thread Reavers come in. Just like how we can influence the worm to steal the specific Thread we need among the many the mage might have, we can influence it to leave behind the stolen Thread instead of digesting it. Don’t ask me how because I won’t reveal it for now – trade’s secrets.”

  Tristan analyzed his words.

  He had an Inner Eye. But it wasn’t working. Would he pass as a mage or was he a regular human at this point?

  “Keep telling him everything.” Rosalina pressed on.

  Dante sighed heavily, visibly struggling with the entire conversation. “Regardless of who the recipient is, the worm…it does damage, okay?” His voice became quieter. “Each use leaves a mark. The more you do it, the worse it gets. Until, eventually…”

  He remained silent.

  Rosalina sighed in annoyance, finishing his words.

  “Until they turn into husks. Empty shells of the people they once were.”

  Dante sighed, rubbing his temples. “Goddamn it, Ostian…”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Which is why I didn’t want to do this. Not like this!” Dante snapped. “Making a six-year-old rely on stolen magic? Kid’ll be brain-dead before he turns twelve!”

  Rosalina’s expression darkened. “Enough.”

  Tristan, meanwhile, had gone quiet.

  He was thinking. Processing the new information.

  The damage, while severe, didn’t really matter. He’ll just have to make sure not to overuse it.

  Even if the stolen Thread scarred his mind each time he used it, the tradeoff was too good to ignore.

  He could skip ahead, jump past years of study and effort required to master a magical discipline.

  It could give him power instantly.

  “Seems like a fair trade.” Tristan finally said. “Obviously, the damage is worth the opportunity.”

  Then, Dante shattered Tristan’s expectation.

  “It doesn’t last, kid.” He said, “Since the magic isn’t yours – artificially planted – your mind denies it.” He shook his head. “Each Cognition Thread planted by a Thread Reaver only gives you about two hours of control.”

  Dante clicked his tongue. “And that’s why Thread Reaving was and will forever remain a profitable business.”