Langston's Upgrade

Chapter 71: A Spark of Trust

The battlefield sprawled before Robert, jagged rocks and churned earth muted by the gray light of the overcast sky. Mist hung thick, curling around scorched patches and shattered stone, the air humming with stray magic like a whisper of forgotten spells. Druids moved through the ruins, their Gaelic chants weaving through the air like a song to Dagda's heart. Their hands trailed tendrils of green and gold, coaxing life from the war-torn soil. Moss bloomed where blood had dried, and heather clawed through the rubble, a stubborn testament to nature's grit.

Robert stood at the edge, shillelagh tapping his shoulder, its gnarled wood warm from his grip. His thoughts churned: the clan's future hinged on his next move, the constant juggle of magic and science wearing him thin. Each victory cost something, but he couldn't stop. He stepped forward, boots crunching damp soil, tartan cloak flapping in the misty breeze.

Langston's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp but jittery. "So, the magic show's over. What now? Or is this just another round of 'Langston's out of his depth'?"

Robert turned, his gaze softening just a fraction. "Next, we rebuild. And that starts with you figuring out where you fit in this mess."

Langston raised an eyebrow, arms folding tight. "You said you'd show me magic. It's been days, mate. I'm starting to think you forgot."

Robert frowned, nodding toward Kernal, the hulking gorilla-beast sprawled by the gates. "I've been sidelined." Kernal yawned, his stony gaze locking on them before scowling at Langston, a silent warning: Keep yapping, and I'll flatten you. Robert grinned, enjoying the silent standoff. "Alright, professor. You're right, I promised. Let's get to it."

Robert led Langston from the bustling digsite, pace steady, toward a quieter corner of the settlement. Clan banners fluttered, tartans bright against the gray. "You've seen how we work," Robert began. "Everyone pulls their weight. Not just surviving, but building something real. That's your job now, Langston."

Langston's frown deepened. "What's that supposed to get me? I'm no blacksmith, Robert."

Robert chuckled. "Not about hammers. Use your skills, whatever they are, to help. Build a life here. Even you can manage that."

Langston's skepticism flared. "And if I don't fit your cozy community vibe?"

"Then you walk your own path," Robert said, no judgment. "We thrive on effort. If that's not you, better to split now than fake it."

Langston went quiet, mind grinding through the logic, pride bristling. "What if I screw it up? More trouble than I'm worth?"

"Then you learn," Robert said, firm. "We've all stumbled, Langston. Get it together."

Robert eyed Langston's hesitation, voice steady. "These rules exist for a reason. Doras Dagda lives on trust and contribution. Can't adapt? You're free to go, no bad blood. But we need unity to survive."

Langston nodded slow. "Fair. What's next?"

Robert extended his hand, a glowing parchment materializing, its script etched in flowing, arcane runes. "This covenant mandates your adherence to the statutes of Doras Dagda, inscribed upon your crystal as an irrevocable law, accepted of your own volition to uphold our order and secure the trust of those you serve. No betrayal of our people or leaders will be tolerated." As Langston focused, the wiring of his magical bionic gauntlet twitched, sinking deeper into his arm with a sharp pang. He winced, hiding his unease, his secret fear flaring: what if this Dark Fairy relic took him over?

Langston's eyes narrowed, but his curiosity spiked. He wanted Robert's trust, his guidance, a shot to prove he wasn't just a snarky outsider. "Sign it how? With some enchanted pen?"

Robert smirked. "Just think it. The magic's keyed to your intent."

"And if I screw it up?" Langston asked, voice tight, his gauntlet tingling.

"Consequences," Robert said, his tone flat. "Defy it at your peril."

Langston swallowed, resolve hardening despite the gauntlet's stirrings. He shut his eyes, willing agreement. The parchment flared and vanished. Robert nodded. "Done. Welcome to Doras Dagda, officially. Ready for some magic to spice up your life?"

Robert's voice rang out, cutting the evening's hush. "STEVE, summon Hamish, Chaucer, Sir Ewan, Sorcha, Lillia, Snow. To the arch, now."

The group gathered under the stone arch, its Celtic knots glowing faint in the dusk. Robert stood tall, Langston fidgeting beside him, his gauntlet's wiring subtly pulsing. He unfurled the contract's glowing echo, shadows dancing across the ground. "This is Langston's pledge to Doras Dagda. He懒s one of us now." He paused, eyes sweeping the group. "But there's more. Langston, time to meet Moira."

Langston froze, doubt creasing his face. Before he could speak, Moira's warmth filled the air, her voice a soft melody. "Ah, the reluctant one. Let's peek under that sour shell." Langston jolted, eyes wide, like he'd been zapped by his own tech. Magic speaking to him, air itself forming words, hit harder than any spell he'd seen.

Light enveloped Langston as Moira scanned him, her voice narrating. "Name: Paulie Assteen Langston. That gauntlet's got an arcane pulse, mind you, almost alive. It hungers for stray magic, ready to drink it up." Langston's stomach twisted, but he forced a nod. "Class: Scientist, adept in multiple fields. Age: 29. Potential: Combat Magic, six out of ten, solid. Healing Magic, three out of ten, good for scrapes. Utility Magic, nine out of ten, a rare genius!" The group murmured, impressed by the high Utility score, perfect for Langston's knack for tweaking tech.

Moira's tone shifted, surprised. "Oh, this is new! Magical Sciences: ten out of ten. A talent ripped from old tales!"

Gasps rippled through the group. Langston's jaw dropped, unmoored. Robert stepped forward, curious. "Magical Sciences? Moira, what's that?"

Her voice hummed with intrigue. "Langston's got a rare knack, he meshes magic with circuits like it's second nature. Not many could pull that off."

Langston stood quiet, sarcasm gone, a shy grin breaking through. Chaucer raised an eyebrow, muttering, "Bloke's got no right looking that chuffed." Robert nodded. "Well, Langston, time to show you're more than just talk."

Robert's voice rose, confident figuratively lighting a fire under Langston. "Let's give Langston the kick he needs to light up his potential!" A system prompt flickered in Robert's vision: System: Initiate Aetheric Spark for User: Langston. Elements: Fire and Air. Result: Technomancer Path unlocked.

Langston's eyes bugged out. "Oh! Okay, it's time then. I'm terrified. But excited. Let's get this over with."

"Damn right," Robert said, authority firm. "Everyone's here to witness. Ready?"

Langston froze, hands twitching, feet shuffling like he was dodging a brawl. A magi-knight fairy zipped past, eyeing his glowing gauntlet like it was a prize, and he swatted at it, yelping, "Oi, back off!" His mind whirled in panic. Magic was either dangerous or nonsense, but now he faced it head-on. The gauntlet's wiring felt alive, writhing under his skin and into his flesh, wires crawling inside him, becoming part of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, like he was bracing for a Highland squall.

Robert's face softened, hand raised. Mana swirled from his nine-pointed star, red flame and white air weaving a Celtic knot of lightning. "Fire and air for strength and speed," he said, voice steady. "Your spark, Langston." The orb jittered, brimming with untamed energy. As it touched Langston's chest, the gauntlet's wiring thickened, veins of metal pulsing under his skin, boosting his mana flow. A rush of power hit, his thoughts sharpened from the pain, and spells formed in his mind. Prompts filled his vision, a holographic boot-up screen flickering with symbols in a language unused for millions of years.

The spark ignited, warmth rippling through him. His jaw tightened as the magic jolted his muscles. Then, without warning, the gauntlet surged, a lightning bolt erupting from his hand, scorching the ground with a crack. The group gasped, stepping back. Langston's eyes widened, fear spiking. "I didn't mean to do that!" he blurted, clutching his arm, the wiring now visibly deeper, like metallic veins under his pale skin, stark as a bodybuilder's but unnatural. His secret dread flared: what if this thing took him over?

Robert steadied him, voice calm but firm. "Focus, Langston. You'll learn to control it." His eyes held trust, easing Langston's panic.

Moira's voice chimed in his mind. "Hello, sour grape. That gauntlet's a feisty one, but you're tougher. Let's make it work." Langston jumped, looking for her. "It's me, Moira, in your head, silly. I'm the magic-weaving lass from Albion, Robert's old haunt. I got this magical game down pat."

Langston blinked in disbelief, voice shaky. "Are you real?" Hamish snorted, earning another glare from Robert.

"As real as that gauntlet on your hand," Moira said, warm. "We're allies now. Robert gave you fire and air, lightning's your game. Fits your spark, little grape. Try not to fry yourself with the juice, hotshot."

Langston glanced at his gauntlet, its wiring glinting with static. "Makes sense," he said aloud, though his fear lingered. "Glad you agree!" Moira replied. "You need a mana core next."

Langston pictured Snow's forehead gem. "Can it link to my mind? I do -not- want any lag between it, and my thoughts."

Moira paused, then yanked impurities from his body, black wisps seeping from his neck like smoke from a clan fire. He floated off his feet, dangling in the air as the elements inside him were stripped and purified, scar tissue, excessive bone growth, cell clumps showing early signs of tumor growth, all rejected by the magical purification and drawn out to be repurposed. He gazed, stunned, as they formed a clear jewel, lightning bolts dancing inside. With an abrupt THUNK, it slammed into his forehead, half-embedded, glowing with electric might. "OUCH!" he yelped, more shock than pain, as skin healed around it.

Moira explained, voice clear. "This crystal's packed with M power, my juice. Use it to boost strength, speed, or your brain's processing. Gain it by hunting monsters, completing my tasks, or contributing here. Pick a skill, like Tinkering, to level up. Whatever you have access to, that's your call."

Langston's face flickered with awe, questions piling up, but the gauntlet's pulse gnawed at him. He'd pester Moira later, and he'd master this thing, no matter what. Robert stepped closer, a mission in mind. "Langston, it's time to prove yourself. You've got some catching up to do, and you need to get used to how all this works. Face DAVE's Sanctum gauntlet, alone. It's a maze of traps and arcane constructs to test your wit, grit, and that gauntlet. You're ready."

The magical bionic gauntlet, Langston's obsession, pulsed like a restless machine. Its chain could slash and rip, absorb spells to convert into electricity, and detect traps or threats, scanning like a sci-fi tricorder. Now, with its wiring deeper, it channeled mana like a flood, spells snapping to his fingertips, but its power scared him. He'd control it, or die trying. Langston hated being without control, especially over himself.

Langston's hands shook, eyes darting. "Oh, great, I'm the lone guinea pig now?" he blurted, voice cracking. "You're tossing me in solo, seriously?"

Robert's hand steadied his shoulder. "Find your confidence, Langston. Help matters, but you can't lean on others forever. This is about you."

Snow stepped up, smiling, handing him potions. "For scrapes," she said, kind. "Talk to Moira if you're stuck. I know you've got this, Langston. Someone as tenacious as you, I'm sure you'll be amazing."

Langston sighed, fists tightening. He'd prove himself, gauntlet or no gauntlet. "Fine. I'll do it," he said, with a resigned tone.

"Good," Robert said, grinning. "Let's prep you."

Ewan, silent till now, spoke, voice booming. "Langston, what path did you pick with Moira's blessing?" Rauri nodded, eyes glinting, hoping for a sparring mate.

Langston straightened, pride peeking through despite his fear. "Technomancer." The word hung, sparking intrigue.

"Technomancer?" Robert echoed. "What's that?"

Langston flicked his fingers like he was shaking off dust. "It's about mixing metals, gears, and summoning for fights. I'll build battle bots, tweak tools. For now, it's just this gauntlet. I have to master it before it masters me."

Robert's eyes lit up with interest. "That's got potential. Can't wait to see what you do with it."

Satisfied, Robert turned to the group. "Thanks for witnessing, everyone. Langston is one of us now. And, Langston's got prep to do."

The group scattered, murmurs buzzing. Some observing clansmen welcomed him by gifting small potions, or helpful trinkets. Langston headed to the market with his mind racing.

That had all happened so quickly. His new core crackled, filling his mind with overclocked speed and equations. Even while he thought of the new device attached to him, he could feel part of his mind working out schematics and details of his gauntlet. It was as if an upload had begun, and he was learning all there was to know about it. In response, the gauntlet pulsed. It was urging him forward. He'd tame this thing in the Sanctum, or lose himself trying.

A storm brewed in his soul, electric and fierce.