Most of these are inferior. Spring examined the lush, brilliant hues of the flowers surrounding her, but they were lacking. A good quality flame orchid needs yellow blots at the heart of the flower, signifying it has a potential to reach the third level on its own. Great ones have traces of green and blue, while exceptional ones are indigo and violet.
Spring checked every plant, yet the best she found was one with specks of lighter orange, which she could generously dub yellowish at the pistil’s root. I guess you’ll have to do.
“I’ll take this one,” Spring said after browsing the garden for over five minutes. Meanwhile, Madam Wartorn seemed on the verge of suffering a heat stroke.
“Mm,” the sweating woman nodded, took the black leather gloves hanging off the wall, and plucked the orchid Spring had chosen.
“We’ll implant it outside,” Wartorn said, and left without waiting for Spring’s reply.
Once out, Wartorn wiped her forehead, her gray uniform sweat-soaked and see-through, resembling her students after their morning exercise routine. “We implant flame-flowers on the back of the hand, with the root facing towards the wrist and flower following the line of the index or middle finger.”
She continued to explain to Spring how to implant and use the graft. While Spring had no memory of using this type of offensive graft, she had vague recollections of wielding more evolved projectile shooting species.
Spring patiently waited until the lame woman finished the introduction and told her about several nuances she, an experienced hunter, wanted to impart on her junior in good faith. Finally, Wartorn lowered the flame-flower and its delicate root touched the base of Spring’s elegant hand.
Spring’s jadelike skin sizzled. She clenched her teeth and made a grimace for the instructor’s sake, inwardly focusing on mana circulation. She sent a surge of mana from her core into her hand. The power coursed up to her fingertips and returned unused.
Spring repeated the process thrice, helping the flame-flower locate a mana source it could tap into. Humans instinctively minimize their mana output when faced with pain, forcing grafts to stumble blindly while their roots search for sustenance, further prolonging their suffering.
There you go, little fellow, you found it. The randomly wandering root fiber paused before digging straight for Spring’s mana circuit. The next moment, flame-flower sunk into Spring’s skin, leaving an angry burn-mark.
Spring smiled, looking at the delicate flower’s artistic outline, which resembled a cross between tattoo and scarification.
“Congratulations, Miss Searing. Your luck is very good, I’ve never seen implants connect so quickly. Rub some ointment onto your hand once you get home. Don’t worry, flame-flowers only injure you the first time, the rest of the time they provide a modest resistance to heat to their host…”
Spring refrained from rolling her eyes at the nonsense Madam Wartorn spewed. At most, it protects the host from its own heat and absorbs a portion of the heat in its vicinity, reducing the impact on the host. As for the burn, you can rub it all you want, you will only mask the outline, as for the damage, the flame orchid is already absorbing all the excess heat from my hand’s skin for sustenance. And, regarding my heat, the folk are much cooler than humans. Because of that, I will need to feed the graft every four to five hours.
Spring considered what to do, bobbing her head as the middle-aged woman spoke. Since I can’t advance that quickly, my best option is to redirect some of my mana to help my grafts evolve. This flame orchid was never sick, suffered from no parasites, nor did it lack food, meaning it’s a perfect candidate for natural evolution.
Spring quickened her mana circulation and sensed the flame orchid draw more from her body. The extra mana will increase its toughness and resilience towards sudden spikes of energy, making it more durable and able to produce stronger firebolts once it evolves. However, this kind of upgrade is the most expensive option, given my current circumstances.
Giving it premium fuels should slightly reduce the mana strain. If I find fire agates, feeding the flame orchid with one rock a week would further stimulate its growth. Better yet, thunder eggs. Those should induce the evolution into a holy flame, giving the flames a cleansing property. Then they could help me combat poisons and corrosive effects.
“Are you unwell, miss Searing?” Wartorn asked and Spring focused on the woman.
“Perfectly fine. Pardon me for asking, Instructor, but is there anything I can do to make my flame-flower grow stronger?” Spring asked the stupid question, hoping to get some justification for her plan.
“We have several recipes to upgrade it to the second level. The most basic one is to graft another flame-flower, which would allow you to shoot two firebolts. You could also…” Wartorn listed seven publicly known grafts, but did not mention spontaneous evolution.
I guess humans haven’t discovered grafts can evolve.
“Can you walk?” Wartorn asked after describing seven subpar grafting options.
Better than you. “Yes, Instructor,” Spring followed Madam Wartorn back to the group, where her fellow students still grit their teeth and sweated from the disgusting feeling of soft tendrils worming their way through their flesh, searching for their budding mana circuits.
Another half an hour passed, during which Madam Wartorn explained potential grafts for barkskin, including stoneskin and briarskin. The latter was a nightmare for humans and regular monsters, but less useful against topiary horrors.
Finally, the class ended, and Madam Wartorn distributed weekly allowance, “Today you won’t fight over mana coins. Go home, rest, and return to school tomorrow before dawn. We will spend the weekend in the weald outside the walls. I will explain everything tomorrow while we’re traveling.”
What about the students who haven’t advanced? The thought appeared in Spring’s head, but she immediately knew the hunter school would not train future protected to navigate the weald.
The class ended, and Spring took the carriage home. In the antechamber of her luxurious prison, she spotted a scurrying maid.
“Stop,” she said, and the maid spun around and bowed. “I need high quality coals to feed my implant. I also want dry ash twigs, thunder eggs, and some hartshorn.”
The maid wordlessly opened and closed her mouth.
Finally, she swallowed a lump and found her words, “I have to check with the head steward, Young Miss.”
Spring let the young woman shake in silence for several long moments before speaking, “Go. I want those items in my room by dinner.”
“Yes, Young Miss.” The maid broke into a run, and Spring wondered whether she was rushing to do as ordered, or to get out of the volatile Young Miss’s way.
This is all so needlessly complicated. If things had gone according to plan, I would have already reached level two with grafts appropriate for wilderness survival. Spring went upstairs and headed to her room.
The voice-linker was already chiming as she opened the door. Spring hurried in and activated the applant, “Mother?”
“Jass, dear, is what I heard true?” Harnna asked in a calm tone.
“Mother, I just want several trinkets to feed my implant with. They are cheaper than the food I eat every day. That should be fine, right?”
“What are you talking about? I’m asking about you reaching the late stage. Did you not understand what I said? The little stipend your school hands out is a pittance, even for most hunter families, and where did you get the mana for your advance?”
Damn. I focused so much on how to get what I want, I forgot this day would come. Best to confess and repent. “I got the mana from the coins I won at school. As for the rest, I borrowed some from the applants around my room and from the coach. I did listen to you, but you told me not to advance only after I advanced. I’m sorry, there was no undoing what I’ve already done. But I felt little pain during my advancement. If I thought I might hurt myself, I would’ve stopped—”
“Jass, stop.” Harnna said, her voice sharp. “Your head is not right. We don’t know whether your sense of pain is skewed. We hardly know anything about your condition, yet you are acting so recklessly. Why didn’t you tell me you had advanced?”
Spring let the silence last for a tad too long, forcing Harnna to speak. “Tell me, why did you hide your advancement from me?”
“I was afraid,” Spring whispered. “I don’t know anyone. You’re keeping me locked up. That day you forced me to walk to school, forced me to ask strangers for directions. I was afraid. I am afraid. I don’t know what’s happening. Why me? What did I ever do to you?”
Spring’s voice grew louder with each word until her last question came out as a scream, stabbing into Harnna’s heart.
Most of these are inferior. Spring examined the lush, brilliant hues of the flowers surrounding her, but they were lacking. A good quality flame orchid needs yellow blots at the heart of the flower, signifying it has a potential to reach the third level on its own. Great ones have traces of green and blue, while exceptional ones are indigo and violet.
Spring checked every plant, yet the best she found was one with specks of lighter orange, which she could generously dub yellowish at the pistil’s root. I guess you’ll have to do.
“I’ll take this one,” Spring said after browsing the garden for over five minutes. Meanwhile, Madam Wartorn seemed on the verge of suffering a heat stroke.
“Mm,” the sweating woman nodded, took the black leather gloves hanging off the wall, and plucked the orchid Spring had chosen.
“We’ll implant it outside,” Wartorn said, and left without waiting for Spring’s reply.
Once out, Wartorn wiped her forehead, her gray uniform sweat-soaked and see-through, resembling her students after their morning exercise routine. “We implant flame-flowers on the back of the hand, with the root facing towards the wrist and flower following the line of the index or middle finger.”
She continued to explain to Spring how to implant and use the graft. While Spring had no memory of using this type of offensive graft, she had vague recollections of wielding more evolved projectile shooting species.
Spring patiently waited until the lame woman finished the introduction and told her about several nuances she, an experienced hunter, wanted to impart on her junior in good faith. Finally, Wartorn lowered the flame-flower and its delicate root touched the base of Spring’s elegant hand.
Spring’s jadelike skin sizzled. She clenched her teeth and made a grimace for the instructor’s sake, inwardly focusing on mana circulation. She sent a surge of mana from her core into her hand. The power coursed up to her fingertips and returned unused.
Spring repeated the process thrice, helping the flame-flower locate a mana source it could tap into. Humans instinctively minimize their mana output when faced with pain, forcing grafts to stumble blindly while their roots search for sustenance, further prolonging their suffering.
There you go, little fellow, you found it. The randomly wandering root fiber paused before digging straight for Spring’s mana circuit. The next moment, flame-flower sunk into Spring’s skin, leaving an angry burn-mark.
Spring smiled, looking at the delicate flower’s artistic outline, which resembled a cross between tattoo and scarification.
“Congratulations, Miss Searing. Your luck is very good, I’ve never seen implants connect so quickly. Rub some ointment onto your hand once you get home. Don’t worry, flame-flowers only injure you the first time, the rest of the time they provide a modest resistance to heat to their host…”
Spring refrained from rolling her eyes at the nonsense Madam Wartorn spewed. At most, it protects the host from its own heat and absorbs a portion of the heat in its vicinity, reducing the impact on the host. As for the burn, you can rub it all you want, you will only mask the outline, as for the damage, the flame orchid is already absorbing all the excess heat from my hand’s skin for sustenance. And, regarding my heat, the folk are much cooler than humans. Because of that, I will need to feed the graft every four to five hours.
Spring considered what to do, bobbing her head as the middle-aged woman spoke. Since I can’t advance that quickly, my best option is to redirect some of my mana to help my grafts evolve. This flame orchid was never sick, suffered from no parasites, nor did it lack food, meaning it’s a perfect candidate for natural evolution.
Spring quickened her mana circulation and sensed the flame orchid draw more from her body. The extra mana will increase its toughness and resilience towards sudden spikes of energy, making it more durable and able to produce stronger firebolts once it evolves. However, this kind of upgrade is the most expensive option, given my current circumstances.
Giving it premium fuels should slightly reduce the mana strain. If I find fire agates, feeding the flame orchid with one rock a week would further stimulate its growth. Better yet, thunder eggs. Those should induce the evolution into a holy flame, giving the flames a cleansing property. Then they could help me combat poisons and corrosive effects.
“Are you unwell, miss Searing?” Wartorn asked and Spring focused on the woman.
“Perfectly fine. Pardon me for asking, Instructor, but is there anything I can do to make my flame-flower grow stronger?” Spring asked the stupid question, hoping to get some justification for her plan.
“We have several recipes to upgrade it to the second level. The most basic one is to graft another flame-flower, which would allow you to shoot two firebolts. You could also…” Wartorn listed seven publicly known grafts, but did not mention spontaneous evolution.
I guess humans haven’t discovered grafts can evolve.
“Can you walk?” Wartorn asked after describing seven subpar grafting options.
Better than you. “Yes, Instructor,” Spring followed Madam Wartorn back to the group, where her fellow students still grit their teeth and sweated from the disgusting feeling of soft tendrils worming their way through their flesh, searching for their budding mana circuits.
Another half an hour passed, during which Madam Wartorn explained potential grafts for barkskin, including stoneskin and briarskin. The latter was a nightmare for humans and regular monsters, but less useful against topiary horrors.
Finally, the class ended, and Madam Wartorn distributed weekly allowance, “Today you won’t fight over mana coins. Go home, rest, and return to school tomorrow before dawn. We will spend the weekend in the weald outside the walls. I will explain everything tomorrow while we’re traveling.”
What about the students who haven’t advanced? The thought appeared in Spring’s head, but she immediately knew the hunter school would not train future protected to navigate the weald.
The class ended, and Spring took the carriage home. In the antechamber of her luxurious prison, she spotted a scurrying maid.
“Stop,” she said, and the maid spun around and bowed. “I need high quality coals to feed my implant. I also want dry ash twigs, thunder eggs, and some hartshorn.”
The maid wordlessly opened and closed her mouth.
Finally, she swallowed a lump and found her words, “I have to check with the head steward, Young Miss.”
Spring let the young woman shake in silence for several long moments before speaking, “Go. I want those items in my room by dinner.”
“Yes, Young Miss.” The maid broke into a run, and Spring wondered whether she was rushing to do as ordered, or to get out of the volatile Young Miss’s way.
This is all so needlessly complicated. If things had gone according to plan, I would have already reached level two with grafts appropriate for wilderness survival. Spring went upstairs and headed to her room.
The voice-linker was already chiming as she opened the door. Spring hurried in and activated the applant, “Mother?”
“Jass, dear, is what I heard true?” Harnna asked in a calm tone.
“Mother, I just want several trinkets to feed my implant with. They are cheaper than the food I eat every day. That should be fine, right?”
“What are you talking about? I’m asking about you reaching the late stage. Did you not understand what I said? The little stipend your school hands out is a pittance, even for most hunter families, and where did you get the mana for your advance?”
Damn. I focused so much on how to get what I want, I forgot this day would come. Best to confess and repent. “I got the mana from the coins I won at school. As for the rest, I borrowed some from the applants around my room and from the coach. I did listen to you, but you told me not to advance only after I advanced. I’m sorry, there was no undoing what I’ve already done. But I felt little pain during my advancement. If I thought I might hurt myself, I would’ve stopped—”
“Jass, stop.” Harnna said, her voice sharp. “Your head is not right. We don’t know whether your sense of pain is skewed. We hardly know anything about your condition, yet you are acting so recklessly. Why didn’t you tell me you had advanced?”
Spring let the silence last for a tad too long, forcing Harnna to speak. “Tell me, why did you hide your advancement from me?”
“I was afraid,” Spring whispered. “I don’t know anyone. You’re keeping me locked up. That day you forced me to walk to school, forced me to ask strangers for directions. I was afraid. I am afraid. I don’t know what’s happening. Why me? What did I ever do to you?”
Spring’s voice grew louder with each word until her last question came out as a scream, stabbing into Harnna’s heart.
