Wraithwood Botanist

If you’ve never learned magic spells, you wouldn’t understand this—but spells aren’t remotely the same. The closest analogy is that learning magic is like training your limbs—it doesn’t make you good at basketball or drawing or construction. So, learning one sometimes doesn’t make conceptual sense, even though learning the spell is inherently the same.

I didn’t feel that way at first. I easily learned all the spells necessary to spread spores at the lignan bugs once I made it to the alchemy station. That included Gentle Pull to release spores, Compact to bring them together, Levisphere to get them to hover in a cylindrical format, Spore Barrier to protect myself from the spores, and Pervasive Breeze to spread them.

I realized that what Yakana taught me wasn’t normal. If there was an analogy, it was like him teaching me how to fly a dragon when I only needed to learn to walk. For that reason, it was remarkably simple to create a Spore Barrier, which was just a slight net of mana. Breeze wasn’t much different. What was considered "Wind Magic’’ was just physical mana released in a galeforce, so I just had to release a stream of mana. Compact was even easier. I just had to take mana and pull it together at one point. The only difficult spell was Levisphere, which required me to circulate mana in a spherical format.

Luckily, that was all taken care of by the spell. The rest I could probably do without a spell—which was illuminating.

Spells are just recipes, I had thought when I started practicing. I wonder how fire magic works…

My outlook on magic was bright—until I tried to learn fire magic. It was a weakness to lignan bugs—obviously—so I thought it was natural to learn it. So I said, "Lithco, recommend the best fire spell that I can use at this level," only to be hit with this message:

—---

Warning: Fire burns down forests, idiot. I thought that you were trying to curry favor with the Diktyo River’s guardian, not piss it off. But if you insist: Flash Flame (Tier 1).

—---

I didn’t even try to argue with that, so instead, I bought Fundamentals of Battle Magic skill for one diamond Free Request in preparation for the trial. That would be flexible—and was. It was a diamond skill and provided me with over fifty beginner spells and dozens of books and tutorials, though the vast majority—like Spear Thrust and Heavy Hammer—would be useless. I figured something would be useful in there.

Turns out there wasn’t. The moment I summoned Lithco and asked where I should start, he laughed and sat on a log and looked at me and said, Seriously? Battle magic? Right here? He looked around the forest. Right now? You get that’s the equivalent of trying to learn basketball by playing against pros, right?

I said, Didn’t you just see me? I learned four spells in twenty minutes!

Fascinating, he drawled. Now which of those can hit a moving target doing eighty?

Once I fell silent, he summed it up as follows: You’ll be a great mage faster than you think, but it’s not happening today. So just trust your "little warrior" and do your job. It’s not like he can do yours, anyway.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but I ultimately understood the problem. My success thus far hinged on my past experience. Alchemy was chemistry, and I had experience working with plants. Kline spent his life developing the dexterity, flexibility, and hunting skills necessary to kill—and he was biologically primed for it. His spells were just extensions of his natural skills, like Purify and Desiccation were extensions of mine. I couldn’t compare with that—not without practice.

Still—

I had never felt so frustrated! All my anger and feelings of uselessness melted over, and I ended up kicking a rotting log. Instead of hurting my foot, the stump exploded into chunks that hit the ground like hail, making me panic and look around, fearful that I would have attracted beasts. The three-day alchemy window was over. If beasts showed up—we had to fight.

It was a tense twenty minutes, but once the tension faded, my heart calmed, and I realized something incredible.

My foot and boot were intact.

Enhancement… I thought. It was the only explanation. I was subconsciously circulating mana in and around me, and it was acting as a strengthener and protector. I pulled up my guide. If I can’t attack… I should run. Then Kline won’t have to hold back.

It sounded like a pathetic move, but it made sense. This whole time, Kline had to ward people off me. Yet if I could outrun attackers, he wouldn’t need to. No matter how fast I was—Kline was faster. He could teleport into my shadow, for fuck’s sake! It was brilliant.

I pulled up Battle Magic in the Skills tab and went into Enhancements. There were two subcategories: Physical Enhancements and Sensory Enhancements.

"Lithco," I said as I pulled up the Speed Enhancement. "Would you advise against enhancements?"

A notification flashed before my eyes. "Now you’re thinking," he wrote. "No, I will not recommend against it—as long as you do it right."

"How do I do it right?"

"Let’s start with how you can do it wrong—buying a skill that moves faster than your eyes. I’d recommend against that. Unless you enjoy painting the trees, of course."

I cupped my eyes, acting like he was treating me dumb when I knew damn well that I was about to do just that. "Just tell me," I said.

He did. "If you want a lifelong skill that will help you use your currently-useless bow, I’d go here: Spells > Enhancements > Sensory Enhancements > Perception > Epic > Moxle Dilation. That is, of course, if you can stomach the cost."

A shiver ran through me, brain to limbs, making the hairs on my arm stand up.

"Epic…? What is it?"

A window popped up with the information, making me sit to read.

—---

Spell Name: Moxle Dilation (Seventh Tier)

Description: What do you do when you have a bow and can’t shoot it at a stationary target, let alone at a hummingbird? You turn the target stationary and pray you get lucky. Moxle Dilation does just that; it increases your perception so high that time nearly stops and accelerates your body so you can move "normally." Such a skill provides undeniable proof that even someone like you can rise above impossible odds.

Effects:

Increases speed and perception to allow you to move faster than agility-based counterparts.

The duration increases as you improve your mental fortification with the Mental Shielding skill.

Time gets slower as you improve your mental fortification.

Your speed is contingent upon your mastery of acceleration skills. The spell comes with a powerful acceleration spell, but you must use Moxle Dilation to access it.

To increase duration, you can regulate the speed you slow down and keep acceleration to a minimum. Practicing can extend your usage time indefinitely.

Warning(s):

The spell can cause mental whiplash from the world suddenly speeding up, so it’s advisable to ease in and out of the spell.

Overtaxation will limit the duration of use during a battle and can cause the spell to break at critical moments. It’s advisable to limit the spell’s duration, even if you have time.

The spell requires consistent concentration, so being hit can cause severe whiplash.

Chronic overtaxation can cause mental damage. It’s recommended that you spend time and resources on fortifying your mind with the "Mental Shielding" skill before you use it in a battle capacity.

—---

I read it over and over again with a perplexed expression. "This seems… dangerous," I said. It was like reading the back of a pill bottle where the side effects were just as bad as the benefits! Whiplash? Break at critical moments? Mental damage? Those terms gave me shivers.

"As opposed to what?" Lithco asked. "Dying because you can’t think or move?"

I smiled wryly. "This is really what you recommend?"

His answer was simple. "Yes."

"Can you… at least give me more of an explanation than that?"

"Since you obviously need *permission* to spend an epic request, I will feed your insecurities. This spell is a powerful, flexible tool that will provide you miracle survival benefits now and turn into a lethal weapon as you get stronger. You can only use a sliver of its power, but over time, this skill will take you into godhood. It grows with you. And as you learn to regulate the speed in which it slows, you can slow time indefinitely. It is dangerous, but I suggest that you learn the spell and practice mental shielding tonight. That way, you’ll be ready for tomorrow."

Tomorrow… I thought. That was a subtle way of saying, Study up, girl. You ain’t doin’ shit but gettin’ those spores. That was a deep problem. I’d have one day to kill these lignan bugs and prostrate myself before the forest guardian.

I was tempted just to try to kill the beast.

Yet subconsciously, I ignored the poison god’s legacy. I loved poison—sure. But what was barring me from making poisons? My alchemy skills could make everything. As a weird analogy, the alchemy god was giving me a full lab to teach me chemistry—where I could make any compound in the world—whereas the poison god would give me a drug lab and some recipes.

Then there was the forest. Judging by the warning I got about the forest turning on me and the way that the symphony bugs changed their tune to alert the river guardian, I felt like killing it to regain access to the river was like rear-ending someone and then shooting the angry driver.

Who the fuck created that legacy quest? No one smart. That’s for sure! There was no way I was putting my life in their hands.

Idiot god aside, I’m not sure what would’ve happened if I had to choose between the alchemy and soulmancy quest. The Diktyo River, meeting Yakana in the water, taking the tutorial, merging with Yakana… I felt an indescribable pull to soul manipulation and more so in relationship to plants. If Lithco’s class description were right, I’d be able to communicate with the plants, trigger mutations, wield reapers to attack, defend myself, and become connected to the forest.

I could learn alchemy and poison-making with my class—and I would. But I couldn’t learn soulmancy. It was a freakish use case for a skill that didn’t belong in the world of botany. I’d have to spend every single request I could get on it. This was my one chance.

It was all or nothing—so I was going all in with soulmancy.

"Those are really good reasons," I said, replying to his argument for Moxle Dilation. "Still... Epic?" I asked. I needed power now, and unless I could buy a castle with a moat, I didn’t know what I could use an epic on that would be better than a skill that could essentially stop time, but still. I thought I’d be saving that for years.

"That’s what I said," Lithco wrote.

"Isn’t there a skill for this?" I asked.

"No. Skills only provide base-level skills. All major spells must be purchased in the Spells tab."

"Damn… that’s more valuable than I thought," I muttered. "So… what do I need to learn this? I saw something about mental fortification. What do I need for that?"

His answer increased my bitterness tenfold.

"Tutorial > Mental Fortification > Diamond > Mental Shielding."

"You got to be kidding me," I chuckled, looking at the sky. That would take my last diamond request in tutorials. I still had my free requests, but still… these things were my lifelines, yet I couldn’t pet my cat without spending a platinum one. At this rate, I wouldn’t have any requests to solve an emergency. "If this just useful for this?" I asked.

"No," Lithco replied. "This skill will shield you from mental attacks. Considering that no one buys mental fortification spells unless they’re forced to, mental attacks are the reaper of skilled adventurers. Such a skill is more valuable than ever."

I rubbed my left eye and sighed. "Whatever. Just buy ’em both."

I wasn’t enthusiastic, but when I got the chime, my heart started racing.

—---

Congratulations! Spell: Moxle Dilation (Seventh Tier) has been added to your spells.

Congratulations! Skill: Mental Shielding (Grades 1-6) has been added to your spells.