Water gently dribbled from my hand as I attempted to create a stream. It was a very basic starting spell many mages begin with in Fuzion but I frustratingly couldn’t manage it. You activate it by carving the sigils for water and line with your mana, etching it into your bloodstream. It’s far harder than it sounds as mana is a slippery substance at best. Like grains of sand it runs through your hands. A firmer grasp on mana can reduce the spillage, increasing mana efficiency, however this is a complicated technique that must be practiced continually.
I look down at the valley below me in sadness. I am gaining finer control but the sigils can be described as tattered at best, full of holes and openings. The sole exception is teleport. Teleport is a complex and extremely quick set of 10 sigils, followed by another 10 after a nearly imperceptible pause. For some reason the drawing of those sigils is so instinctive they come out flawlessly.
I believe it is interfering with my learning at this point. With this in mind I vow not to use teleport until I’ve mastered the basic spells. Picking up my spear I trace my steps back toward the village, away from this canyon deep within the forest.
I have a routine set up. Everyday I rise from bed and walk toward the canyon in the forest. No monster monster I encounter escapes my spear along the way. It can take some time, as the canyon is far past the Antlion’s nest. Many difficult to defeat monsters line my path.
Chief among them is the trent a wild spirit of the woods who takes the form of a living tree. My spear is highly ineffectual against it’s dense wood and bark. Previously I had fled part them with teleport’s aid, so the first time I really faced one came as a rude awakening to me.
Trents were slow monsters capable of fierce attacks within their reach. I mistakenly made the error of assuming it’s attack speed would match its movement speed. Almost half of my HP dissapeared under a torrent of branches that felt like iron switches before I made my escape. Battered and bruised, with my only weapon as good as useless I entered a state of clarity. What would come would come, but I’ll not back down in this regard. I would live my life to the fullest while i was here, consequences be dammed. Taking hold of my mana I do the opposite of what I had been doing. I grip the grains loosely and start adding more and more. I easily use twice the mana I had been previously, resulting in messy sigils with different shades throughout. They were however intact.
I attempt to use a basic firebolt spell. It comes out lukewarm at best, however it does fly a short distance and seems to have more effect than my spear. I strafe the monster, using quick foot movement to stay out of the trent’s reach as I fling firebolt after firebolt. It makes an enormous racket from all the explosions, drawing in a few wolves that were nearby along with another trent. I pause my barrage to exterminate the wolves.
Letting my mana regenerate I lash out with my spear, three quick thrusts almost leave an afterimage as they take out the wolf in the lead, instantly killing him. I was level 7 now and while I had gained a significant amount of strength my gain in agility was far more impactful, allowing these swift combo attacks that exploit an enemy’s weaknesses. I had made little in the headway of toughness however.
The wolves don’t even come close to hitting me during our brief clash. Everytime I move a wolf dies, and they would have quickly been dealt with if I hadn’t been forced to move to avoid the trents. I flee around 20 yards away and continue my barrage of fire until the wolves near again. I eliminate them with graceful movements, leaving the trents alone for a moment while I look for additional danger. In the distance I see three more treants approaching slowly. Great…