Lionel,

  I hope you are well. Rather, I know you are, more than likely, well and that was just a pleasantry. As was discussed in one of my previous letters, I find myself in a rather interesting position with Squad Nine and, I want to reiterate, I am still determined to see it through. Having learned of the relatively strained resources currently available to The Slayers, I would not ask you to stretch yours unnecessarily thin for my sake.

  I do have a request, though, one not for you in your capacity as a Slayer Lieutenant, but as a family friend. For all that the Slayer Fort in Dorbe - which, for the record, I still posit is poorly named - has plenty of materials to keep me well versed in matters of Beasts, I find myself wanting on matters of other subjects, subjects that I have been advised to get acquainted with lest I fare poorly when I am unceremoniously dragged to The Crown Academy.

  Would you be willing to coordinate with my mother and reach out to the Duscall family on my behalf? They represent an untapped personal resource, one of the few I am able to draw on without violating the terms of my agreement with Captain Engel, for my family ties would exist regardless of any other circumstances surrounding my involvement with The Slayers. Presumably, they have access to - or could procure - a suitable tutor.

  I have also sent my mother a letter to the same effect. Based on how infrequently they were mentioned, and the circumstances surrounding my father to which I am all but certain you are aware, I suspect the relationship there is strained, at best. I also realize that, in doing this, I would be opening myself up to familial politics, but I have decided it is an acceptable risk. I would appreciate any help you can offer in this matter.

  Also, in regards to your last letter, I want to note that I find it amusing that one of your squadmates shares a name with Aylesbury’s giant duck.

  -Will

  I set the quill down and admired my handiwork. Reaching out to my extended relatives had been a topic of some hesitation, but the Duscall family represented a potential avenue to resources and influence, the kind I would need if I wanted to thoroughly investigate the matter of what was, essentially, interdimensional travel. Without global information networks and databases a click away, I was looking at some serious legwork. It was possible I’d be able to brute force the issue with my build, eventually, but despite the scarcity of my eggs - or, perhaps, because of it - I was reluctant to shove them all into a single basket.

  Without the Mirror Scroll, there was a notable delay between the letters I sent and the replies I received. In hindsight, I probably could have asked to take the Spell-Scripted item with me - no doubt Tina and Tulos would have approved. Alas, it remained with them.

  Even taking the Mirror Scroll and creations like it into account, correspondence was so much slower compared to my first life. It might have been sometime during the baby fugue and resulting spiral of what was probably some flavour of depressive episode, but I had long since broken my addiction to technology. The compulsion to constantly check the litany of messaging programs, constant stream of opinionated media, and the occasional video of a cat was behind me, though if someone were to magically produce a computer or smartphone for me I suspected that, even with Perseverance, I would struggle not to fall off the metaphorical wagon.

  As it was, I had grown to appreciate the time set aside to read and write a letter. There was something intimate about it as opposed to the often choppy, half-cut messages devoid of soul and punctuation I’d fire off while sitting on the toilet, face illuminated by the faint glow of a screen.

  Looking

  Back they

  were

  So off

  Putting ‘

  to read.

  “Or maybe I am just trying to make myself feel better because waiting several weeks for a response to a letter is awful. Am I right, Fudge?” Fudge harrumphed from his spot curled up on the ground and I feigned surprise. “Good point, buddy. I almost forgot something.” A warm smile on my face, I picked up the quill, dipped the nib, and added an important final touch to the letter.

  

  P.S. Fudge says hello.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  Time continued to pass, as time was want to do. In what was perhaps a most serendipitous series of events, the woman I found to teach me bushcraft was a trapper named Nance. It seemed so long ago that the Trapping Skill was my ‘pretend Core Skill’ - not that it was ever challenged before circumstances dictated the deception redundant.

  A softly spoken woman, Nance wore clothing without a left sleeve. Instead, she decorated the exposed arm with woven flowers and vines, boasting impossibly complex designs that she seemingly changed every day. When I showed Nance the, for lack of a better term, ‘permission slip’ I’d gotten Cruz to sign, she seemed genuinely surprised, but it sparked a shift in the conversation that ultimately ended with her agreeing to teach me. On occasion, Nance asked about Cruz while we were together; it was a notable occurrence given she barely offered explanations when showing me knots or identifying edible plants, preferring to teach by way of demonstration when possible.

  Nance’s route strayed into The Forest. Even though it barely delved into its fringes, I knew all too well that was no guarantee of safety. When I voiced that concern, she assured me that ‘Slayer Cruz’ would keep us safe. To illustrate the point, she pointed out the occasional, familiar thread suspended between two branches or wrapped around a fallen log.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  Developing Perseverance remained one of my primary objectives. Beyond the benefits for the Skill itself, Advancing it would push me into the Second Tier, netting me more Skills, more power, more potential - more everything.

  Compared to my time living with Tina and Tulos, my progress with Perseverance had been meteoric over the several months since I’d arrived in Dorbe. Without needing to concern myself with appearances, I was free to start experimenting in ways I hadn’t dared to while under parental supervision, lest their concern become more of an active obstacle.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  There was also the matter of the advice Cruz gave me, of stakes. Unlike my internal goals and motivations, the ones that I could technically abandon without harm or immediate consequence, there was an external pressure surrounding my recent activities. My deal with Engel, my bluster to Cruz, the fact that I would soon be thrown into the hormonal-fuelled gauntlet inhabited by superpowered teenagers… I needed to push myself, to persevere lest I be overwhelmed by it all.

  It gave some context as to why, based on my limited observations, people who risked their lives seemed stronger than their peers. What better stakes were there than one’s very survival?

  Perseverance through defiance continued to resonate with me on a conceptual level. Lionel’s comments about Aylesbury - regarding how he collected a portion of Tina’s trauma in a package so that it might be delivered - served as a loose proof of concept; at higher levels, truly esoteric applications of a Skill became possible. If I could persevere despite challenges or circumstances, then one logical extreme of that capability would be to render those obstacles completely inert, to deem them so insignificant that they do not hinder me at all.

  An enticing possibility - an arrogant possibility, but one I was determined to explore. I just needed to experiment.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  “Good luck, Master Will,” Wynn said sweetly from the spot on the ground where she’d sat with her skirts tucked beneath her. She paid no mind to the mud and muck and, knowing her, she probably chose a particularly damp spot because of it. Fudge had his head on her lap while she idly administered scritches. As a person who regularly fed him, Wynn ranked among Fudge’s favourite people.

  “Thanks, Wynn,” I said with a smile, trying not to overthink the ridiculousness of what I was about to attempt.

  Rolling an empty, open-top barrel out of the cellar and filling it with water from the well one bucket at a time had been a grueling process. It had also been a pleasant change of pace from my usual morning workout routine, so I found myself enjoying the novelty of it all.

  Going to go ahead and add that to the list of sentiments I never thought I’d have, I thought dryly.

  In considering all I knew about the way Skills could grow, I had devised a method to test Perseverance, one that, frankly, bordered on unhinged. Not wanting to give myself time to back out, I stepped onto the small stack of wood I’d positioned near the base of the barrel. I grabbed onto the rim, my fingers feeling a slight chill as they dipped into and displaced some off the water. I took one, final breath as I urged Perseverance to action and sent a steady stream of mana to diffuse through my entire being.

  Radical changes in temperature are supposed to shock the system. I will not be so easily stunned. Armed with my intent, I plunged my head into the barrel. Perseverance began to thrum with activity. The transition was a smooth one - I could acknowledge that the ambient water was marginally cooler than the outdoor temperature, but there was no shock, no need for the brief adjustment period that usually accompanied partial submersion.

  My eyes will not need to adjust to the water. The water cannot impede my vision. When I opened my eyes, they too were unbothered by the change of environment. Shadows danced against the grain of the wood where light slipped in through my hair that crept over the surface of the water above.

  Mana continued to infuse my entire body, but I quickly noticed the draw necessary to maintain it taper off within a few seconds.

  As predicted, I thought happily. Adjusting to vaguely cold water and opening my eyes underwater were both things I could adapt to even without the aid of my Skill. Once the mana wasn’t necessary beyond smoothing out the barest of wrinkles, Perseverance no longer drew more than it needed.

  That was not why I asked Wynn to supervise, though.

  People need to breathe to function? So what? Says who? Such things are beneath me. I threw every shred of conviction I could muster at the intent as it took shape. I got to decide what my obstacles were and would not justify those beneath my notice. Would a faint breeze be enough to dissuade me from climbing a hill? Of course not. I would not be burdened by that which I deemed trivial.

  There was an absurdity to it all, to so emphatically try to hype myself up, to give silent voice to my desires. I’d taken to considering the ritual akin to a magical spell, a string of relative nonsense to conjure power - it was what allowed me to plow through any lingering self conscious feelings I felt on the matter.

  Perseverance answered the call, for it was not long before my body craved another breath. A person could hold their breath beyond that point, for a time, but that was not my goal. My goal was to disregard that need entirely, to defy biological necessity in the face of Perseverance. Mana continued to surge through my body.

  If I fail here, I could drown. I tightened my grip on the edge of the barrel, determined to disregard any foolish notions of quitting early. I needed to succeed. Wynn’s presence and willingness to oversee my attempt was a safety net that would arguably detract from the benefits of the danger I orchestrated, but even with a supervisor there was still a danger. People died under the watch of lifeguards all the time.

  I felt a spike of concern come through the Tamer Bond, and had to spare a moment to reassure Fudge that I was fine. He didn’t feel convinced, but I had to push his growing worry to one side or risk failure.

  Focus!

  The change came suddenly. One moment, I felt the growing pressure that accompanied an increasing need to breathe, the next it was simply… gone. Before I let myself get too surprised, I revisited my internal mantra, affirming that my success was all but assured lest I somehow lose control of the Skill. It was surreal, to be separated from something that I always took to mean I was alive, that I was human.

  The drain on my mana was immense. I was all but topped off when we started, but I could tell that I had a minute - if that – before I would be forced to let the Skill subside.

  Should I surface before I let it drop? On one hand, it would have been the safer option, but learning how my body reacted to the sudden absence of the Skill’s intervention under stress was also valuable. And I have Wynn here just in case.

  I had remained cradled in the cool, calm of the water where noise was muffled and all was serene. Decision made, I shattered that calm when I let my Skill drop. Without the support of Perseverance, the compulsion to breathe returned with a vengeance. There was no time to think about anything else, I opened my mouth and went to take my first submerged-

  An explosion of mana surged through the Tamer Bond.

  The cool air against my damp hair was notably chilly as I drew in deep, heaving breaths. The sudden need to breathe was such that, had I remained underwater there was a good chance I’d have-

  Wait, I- A stab of pain threatened to spike through my skull. I reached a hand down and found Fudge nudging me with his head, his ears flat and tail slowly wagging. The relief and concern I felt through the Tamer Bond was palpable, accompanied by a phantom pain that mirrored my own. Fudge was also experiencing mana exhaustion, but he still prioritized checking up on me.

  “Huh…”

  We love Fudge.

  You can read up to 10 Chapters Ahead over on my . Today's chapter includes Will finding some resolve and taking advantage of a situation.

  Discord:

  -

  I had another idea for a book this week. My ADHD is loving it, I can bounce between other series, doing a bit here and there as whim and muse strike, while still focusing primarily on What Will Be. I will share a quick pitch for the most recent pair so you have an idea of the various coals I have in the fire:

  First: Only surviving member of a 'hero's party' kind of situation writes a book about the adventure and very much exaggerates their capabilities and involvement in the whole thing. Years later, they are out of money and decide to mentor a young adventuring party, riding the last embers of fame for the pay check. When disaster strikes and the the group is [TBD, trapped in a super dangerous dungeon or something, probably] all eyes turn to our protagonist to save the day. Will he be able to lie his way out of this one?

  Second: System Apocalypse slice-of-life from the perspective of a pair of 'deities' sponsoring humans trying to survive the shit show. My early notes have it being Mother Earth and Father Time (My early notes have them as a 'divorced' couple). Their banter and squabbles with multiversal gods will occasionally be undercut by updates from their chosen humans who only get to see the gods' professional sides.

  Which one seems the most interesting to you? Always love a litmus test.