Something Stupid

The night air was crisp as Luther followed Luna and Vess through the narrow back alleys of the city. His body still ached from forcing open the mana pathways, but he ignored the pain. The yellow glow beneath his skin had dimmed to almost nothing—he was learning to control that, at least.

"Remember," Luna whispered as they approached a nondescript door, "let us do the talking. These people are... skittish around newcomers."

He nodded, though internally he scoffed at her concern. The crude mana coursing through his veins made him feel invincible, despite its instability. 

Let them be skittish.

Vess knocked in an intricate pattern. After a moment, a small window in the door slid open, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes. They widened slightly at the sight of Luther's yellow-ringed irises.

"Who's the new one?" a gruff voice demanded.

"He's with us," Luna answered firmly. "We need to speak with Maq about the recent... disturbances."

The eyes narrowed, studying them for a long moment before the window slammed shut. Several locks clicked, and the door creaked open.

Inside was a barely lit room that might have once been a warehouse. Shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles, crystals, and things Luther couldn't identify. The air hummed with contained power—even with his limited experience, he could feel it.

A tall man with graying hair stood from behind a cluttered desk. "Luna, Vess," he nodded to them before fixing his gaze on Luther. "And our rejected hero. Word travels fast in certain circles."

Luther tensed, mana instinctively flowing to his hands. The yellow glow brightened beneath his skin.

"Easy," Luna murmured, placing a warning hand on his arm. To Maq, she said, "We need information about the other heroes. The ones serving Nelara."

Maq's eyebrows rose. "Dangerous territory, that. Why should I risk—" He stopped mid-sentence, staring at Luther's hands. "Interesting. Very interesting. Self-taught pathways? That should be impossible."

"Many things should be impossible," he replied coldly. "I don't particularly care what should or shouldn't be."

A smile tugged at Maq's lips. "No, I suppose you don't." He moved to one of the shelves, selecting a crystal that pulsed with blue light. "The heroes you're asking about—they're planning something. Something big. The attacks on the safe houses were just the beginning."

"What are they planning?" Vess asked.

Maq held up the crystal, studying how its light interacted with the yellow glow emanating from Luther. "They believe the old gods should be eliminated entirely. Nelara has convinced them that divine power should flow only through 'proper' channels."

"And a hero who rejected divine power entirely..." Luna began.

"Is a threat to their worldview, yes." He set down the crystal. "But there's more. They're gathering artifacts, ancient tools of power. Building toward something."

Luther stepped forward, ignoring Luna's attempt to hold him back. "Where can we find them?"

Maq's expression turned serious. "You're not ready for that confrontation, boy. Even with your... unique abilities. They have years of training, divine blessing, and numbers on their side."

"I didn't ask for your assessment," he growled. The yellow glow intensified, casting harsh shadows across his face. "I asked where to find them."

For a tense moment, no one moved. Then Maq chuckled. "You remind me of someone I knew long ago. Just as stubborn, just as foolish." He pulled a worn map from his desk. "There's an old temple in the eastern district. They've been gathering there at night. But if you go after them..."

"We won't," Luna interrupted firmly. "This is just reconnaissance. Right, Luther?"

He didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the map as Maq marked the location.

"One more thing," Maq added, selecting a small box from a shelf. "Consider this a gift. Or a warning." Inside was a circular pendant made of dark metal. "It'll help stabilize those crude pathways of yours. Might keep you from burning out too quickly."

He took the pendant, feeling its weight. Power radiated from it, resonating with his unstable mana.

"Why help me?" he asked suspiciously.

Maq smiled enigmatically. "Let's just say I'm curious to see what happens when someone rewrites all the rules." His expression hardened. "But remember this—power gained through force rather than growth has a price. You'll pay it eventually."

He slipped the pendant around his neck, immediately feeling his mana pathways calm slightly. "Everything has a price," he replied. "I'm willing to pay it."

As they left the warehouse, Luna grabbed his arm. "Don't even think about going after them alone."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."

They both knew he was lying.

When they went back, he waited until the tavern grew quiet before slipping out of his room. The pendant Maq gave him thrummed against his chest, its power mixing with his crude mana in ways that made his skin crawl. But it helped—the pathways felt more stable, even if they still burned.

He pulled out the map, studying the marked location in the moonlight. The eastern district wasn't far, and Luna's insistence on "reconnaissance" would only waste time.

'They want to eliminate the old gods?' he thought, remembering Maq's words. 'Let's see how they handle someone who doesn't need any gods at all.'

As he moved through the shadows, he practiced pulling mana into his hands. The yellow light came easier now, more controlled. Still nothing like the power the other heroes wielded, but it was his. Earned through pain and determination, not gifted by some deity.

The eastern district was older, its buildings worn by time and neglect. The temple Maq marked stood apart. No obvious guards, but he could feel power radiating from within.

He found a side entrance, picking the lock like he did it countless times in his previous life. Inside, the air was thick with divine energy. It made his mana react, to give him away.

Voices echoed from deeper in the temple. He followed them, keeping to the shadows.

"—cannot allow this aberration to continue," a woman was saying. "A hero who rejects divine blessing? It undermines everything we've built."

"He's growing stronger," another voice added. "We've confirmed he's accessed mana somehow. Crude, unstable, but dangerous."

Luther smiled in the darkness. So they were afraid of him. Good.

"Then we eliminate him," a third voice declared. "Nelara's will is clear. The old gods must fall, and those who support them—"

"Like me?" He stepped into the doorway, mana flowing to his hands. 

Five figures spun to face him, each radiating divine power. Their eyes glowed with various colors—blue, green, white. One woman stepped forward, her presence commanding.

"The rejected one," she said, her voice the same that had spoken of aberrations. "Bold of you to come here alone."

"I work better alone," he replied, scanning the room. Ancient artifacts lined the walls—weapons, armor, crystals pulsing with power. "Nice collection. Planning something special?"

"You understand nothing," she said. Her eyes blazed with blue fire. "The old gods are a corruption that must be purged. Nelara offers true justice, true order."

"Right," he drawled. "Because attacking taverns and murdering innocents is so just."

"Those who harbor heretics are not innocent." Divine power gathered around her hands. "This is your last chance. Accept Nelara's blessing, or be destroyed."

Luther's laugh was cold and sharp. "Here's a counter-offer." His mana intensified. "You leave me alone, or I show you what someone with nothing to lose can do."

"You're outnumbered and outmatched," another hero said, stepping forward. "Your parlor tricks can't compare to divine power."

"Maybe," he admitted. Then he smiled, and there was something dangerous in it. "But I've got nothing to lose. You, on the other hand..." His eyes swept over the artifacts. "You've got quite a lot to protect."

Before they could react, he spun and fired a blast of mana at the nearest shelf. Artifacts crashed to the ground, some shattering on impact. Divine power exploded outward as they broke, filling the room with chaos.

The heroes shouted in alarm, diving to protect their precious tools. He used the distraction to grab the nearest intact artifact—a sword that hummed with power—and bolt for the exit.

Pain lanced through his shoulder as a blast of divine energy caught him. He stumbled but kept running, his crude mana pathways burning as he pushed them to their limit.

More blasts followed, but he was already outside, sprinting through the dark streets. His stolen sword pulsed in sync with his pendant, both resonating with his unstable power.

He didn't stop running until he reached the tavern, slipping in through his window. Blood soaked his shirt where the blast had hit him, but he was grinning.

'That's more like it.'