Chapter 12.

- Fucking hell !, screamed a voice through rough caves, echoing to death.

Nick was clutching his hand, staring at it with angry eyes and trying very hard not to punch it into submission as he bandaged it for the umpteenth time. Every attempt hurt like … like he had lost two fingers ! His cry rose his chest, hurting his ribs yet again and making him even angrier. In fact, pretty much everything made him angry at that point.

A few days had passed since his first fight, and he had barely moved. He felt too injured to do so seriously, only daring to enter uninhabited caves, fleeing at the smallest noise. His injured body and inherent fear made this behaviour justified to him, while the truth floated at the back of his head, resonating in its full mocking glory : "Coward.", dirtying his otherwise 'perfect' mood !

His whole body hurt him, making it hard to sleep, while travelling was even more tiring and troublesome. "Why am I so dumb ? I could have stayed with the group, enjoying the security of number, but noooo, I had to try and be the smarter guy ! I am so much better than the 'plebe', probably in a better situation too, as they are definitely all dead !", he thought with rancour. He had a hard time thinking straight, not knowing if he wished people's death or just his, with feverish sweat on his forehead.

He was sitting down on his basic bed made of a large pelt, a feather stuffed pillow and a thick, smelly blanket. He had not had time to wash … anything really. But he already had a lot to complain about. Finally, he managed to more or less bandage his hand, lying to rest in the hidden corner of that cold cave of his. He regretted at least leaving the monster camp two days earlier : there was coal there.

After an only partly refreshing sleep, he woke up not wanting to do anything. What could he do anyway ? Everywhere he went, he found more beings ready to devour him. Why would he move his painfully itching body close to danger ? He still had food for three days ? "Fuck", he thought desperately. "What am I gonna do then ?".

A minor decision was in order ! Since he could not do much about anything, the least he could do to avoid madness was to take his mind off of reality. A second sufficed for the brown booklet to be open in front of his eyes. He had almost read half of it really : the respite would be quite short.

' There is one thing that makes a mage's life even more difficult than it already is, and that thing is called Magical Disruption. Those disruptions are random effects due to the sudden mixing of different energies in great quantity. As it has already been said, energies extracted from the Magical Flow are toxic because of elements which are only really dangerous when combined. By themselves said elements are quite harmless and in harmony within the Flow. Let's suppose that a duel is happening, and elements from Blaze School get in contact with elements from Hurricane School. If the mages involved are powerful enough and not very careful, a Disruption that could hurt both mages is a possibility, meaning unintended effects due to the mixing. Of course, it is quite unlikely when only two energies are involved as it rarely contains enough elements, but the possibility increases with the number and strength of participants. That is why, in some parts of the world, mages are strictly forbidden from using their powers rashly, and punished mercilessly in case of a powerful Disruption appearing. Bear in mind that a millennium ago, when mages knew no restrictions whatsoever, battles would be fought without thinking, leaving the land tainted by disruptions even to this day. Being a mage means being aware of the power we hold. '

"That's quite bleak. I thought being powerful meant having the right not to care, but evidently, the author disagrees.", understood Nick. However, just because one person was so responsible did not mean that most were, as it was only natural for opposition to exist. Whatever idea one might have, there would always be someone pushing back with a reversed mind, that is the beauty and interest of life : what's the point of living with people who only agree ? Now, did those thoughts help Nick in any way ? "Fuck no !".

Yet, the more he read about this matter, the more he felt like trying. What would he lose really ? He was alone, in a dangerous environment and had nothing better to do until he healed a bit. It would not cost him anything to dream a little. So he did. Closing his eyes and focusing dramatically, as if he was actually doing something of the utmost importance. Minutes passed while he imagined some kind of air current filling the space around him, mixing colourful particles in an odd psychedelic painting. Once the image was clear enough in his mind, his waist became the new subject : trying to change the current using a point around his waist as a source of will. His will was the master, as it dictated the Magical Flow. "The movement goes in a direction, any direction. But I am the one to decide here, and I decide that you MUST change course IMMEDIATELY !". His previous anger tainted his will, making it an order more than anything else. "So stupid …", he thought, as he had not precisely followed the instructions. As fake as this whole thing might have been, he at least wanted to try the right way.

But he felt something, like using an insensible hand to caress the surface of water, a faint yet very real feeling. The contact lasted some seconds, and disappeared as fast as it came, the water evaporated. Even more disconcerting was the sentiment that accompanied that crazy encounter. It was like he shared something with the Flow for a second, and to his order, only one thing was thrown back : amusement. He was forced to feel that he only managed to touch the untouchable thanks to how uncommon his behaviour was. Not rare, just uncommon, and he understood that order or not, it did not matter. It only mattered that he believed. He had to believe.