Chapter 25- A Soulful Failure

The way Rufeus' reflection had spoken to him painted a clear picture in his head. Soul magic was special. Despite his eccentricities and quirks, the old elf still held some base desires that had been made apparent in their conversation.

Arthur was confident that the only reason the powerful mage had lowered himself to talk to him was that the man had suspected he possessed the rare affinity. Sure, he'd tried to make light of it, but Arthur had seen the flash of greed in his eyes. Rufeus had tried to mask it with his affable mask of an old man, but Arthur hadn't spent his life dealing in shady deals for no reason.

The elf had smelled potential and like a shark tracking blood, he'd honed in on its scent. The signs were there. No one so powerful would ever treat Arthur the way Rufeus had. The man was practically a god compared to him. His old-man act didn't make any sense. Unless he'd wanted something.

Soul magic was definitely crazy stuff. The only question that remained was how useful it was.

That's why Arthur was feeling so frustrated right now.

Why the fuck's nothing happening?

Arthur had spent the past few minutes agonising over his Soul Infusion skill. Nothing was working. It wasn't even a matter of talent or lack of information. He hadn't known a thing about his other affinities but his skills at least provided a semblance of direction.

Water was all about direction and flow. Moving with the magic was the best way Arthur could describe it. Coaxing and persuasion. Healing ether followed the same line. Heck, the magic practically lept into his hands when he called it forth. It was by far his most natural magic to use.

Shadow was challenging in how he had to be so authoritarian in his usage of it- all demand and control- but his shadow manipulation was almost instinctual, no doubt a direct result of the beast he'd derived the ability from.

Soul magic was nothing.

If it wasn't for the clear description of the skill on his status window, Arthur would hardly believe he had an affinity for soul magic at all. He'd have as much look summoning forth flame than using his skill with how alien it felt.

No that wasn't quite the right word. To be alien meant that he could compare it to something normal. It meant that he recognised its strange qualities. Soul Infusion registered as nothing in his mental scape. There was nothing there for him to recognise, nothing to identify, nothing to even compare it with.

It was a blank space. A void.

He could do nothing with the skill because his brain told him there was nothing there to be used in the first place. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement. It was maddening. Arthur read through the skills description for the umpteenth time, hoping for some inspiration.

Soul- An esoteric and unique branch of magic, magicians of this affinity have been known to control hordes of spirits, bringing destruction upon their enemies. Incredibly rare.

Skill: Soul infusion level 1- (Infuse a portion of your soul into your strike to deal damage to an individuals soul)

He was just as stumped as he was the first time he'd read through it. How did one go about infusing a portion of their soul into a strike? Heck, what even was a soul and what was so unique about the soul damage it would result in? So many questions and yet Arthur couldn't even answer one of them. Being so far out of his depth was not a feeling that Arthur enjoyed. He pinched his brow and sighed. There was only one thing he hadn't tried yet. For good reason. Something told Arthur that trying to force as much ether into the skill as possible would not be a good idea. It'll probably make my shadow bomb look harmless by comparison.

Arthur looked at his health pool.

3200/3200

If that didn't let him get away with a little stupidity, nothing ever would. There was no one he could turn to for help, not that he'd ever trust someone with this particular secret. His hands were tied and stagnation was never an option. Let me at least get out of this room. I don't want to fuck this place up.

Making his way back up the stairs, Arthur opened the door to his back garden. Moving illegal substances around had paid lucratively, enough that he could afford a place with a garden, small though it was. At least now he didn't risk blowing his house up. Man, the things I do for progression.

Centring himself, Arthur took a seat on the grass beneath him. Taking a deep breath, he began to gather his ether. Arthur had already tried to wheedle his ether reserves into the soul skill. Doing so for his other affinities seemed to change the ether's nature on an intrinsic level to suit that particular branch of magic. it hadn't worked for his soul affinity no matter what he tried.

This time Arthur was taking a different path.

He reached for his ether reserves, a source of energy residing inside his body, no longer as unfamiliar as it had once been. He'd been making some improvements. Arthur wrested control of the power and began to separate it from its source.

It was a little different to his usual methods. This ether was unattuned, pure, unadulterated power. It wasn't limited to any particular affinity and by that same token, it was energy without directive. He didn't have the requisite circuits to use the stuff.

Arthur let the pool of ether build up. 300. 400. 500. 600. 700. Arthur stopped the pull when he saw his reserves drop by 800, but like a speeding car on ice, the brakes took a few seconds to come into effect. By the time his ether draw had stopped, he held a whopping 950 ether under his control, just shy of four digits.

The power shone in his mental scape like a miniature sun, almost blinding with its brilliance. This was the most energy he'd tried to control at any given time.

It was surprisingly... easy.

I guess those are my physical stats at play. The introductory leaflet did say my physicality would contribute heavily to the amount of ether I'd be able to manipulate at any given time.

'There's no such thing as a frail battle battle-mage after all.'

Arthur breathed in and out. In and out. The energy raged inside him, looking for an outlet. He didn't give it any, holding it in an iron gauntlet of 190 willpower. The difficulty grew the longer he left it unused.

Well, here goes nothing. No more wheedling my ether. It's time to force-feed this skill.

Arthur grasped his gathered energy and promptly shoved it all into his Soul Infusion skill. Oh shit, this is so stupid!

His half-blood instincts woke up, mouth parting in a scream of agony as he felt his very being tear apart before he abruptly passed out.

It took him thirty seconds to regain consciousness. Arthur woke up with his face drenched. In his disorientated state, it took him a few seconds to realise it was blood. 

His blood. 

Looks like my nose decided to explode.

Arthur's body ached in places he never knew existed, the centre of his bones, somewhere he was certain no nerves existed. His vision was swimming in and out of focus, and it took him a while before he could focus enough to read the system text vying for his attention.

Warning: You have suffered from 1328 soul damage (Mild). Health-1872/3200 Mild Soul damage heals at a quarter the rate as your natural health generation. It is advised you rest until your body recovers.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. He'd had no idea what he was doing and yet he'd achieved such devastating results. And this was only mild soul damage. Arthur grinned at the thought of what something more severe would do.

Arthur was certain he'd barely scratched the surface of soul magic's potential, heck, he was certain he'd utilised all his affinities in the most bastardised way possible but the results so far were no short of amazing.

Water to control the battlefield, shadow to make my strikes unpredictable, healing to keep me fighting and soul to end it.

I really need to learn this bloody magic.