Uriel closed his eyes, crossing his arms.
He began to list all he knew about himself, in the context of Ascendance and battle.
’Due to my disease, I absolutely cannot have a berserker style of attack, or even Ascendance in general. I have to end most fights relatively intact.’
’So that ans, ideally, I either have unbreakable defense, or the ability to one-shot everyone. I also feel like my condition directly clashes with healing as a whole, so I can’t rely on that.’
’I’m also really slow, though I plan to focus on that in my future evolutions. I’m not agile, I’m not durable, I’m not strong, and I have no fighting experience or formal training.’
He humd.
’But I have a massive aether pool. Ridiculous aether control and affinity, and a core that’s most likely unbreakable up to a certain degree.’
’I’ll probably also never encounter anyone with senses as sharp as my own, or the ability to read terrain as well as I can.’
’I also apparently grow very fast.’
He frowned in annoyance.
One of the issues he had was that he simply didn’t know enough about his spark. He knew it was most likely extrely powerful, but outside of being able to read emotions, he didn’t know much else.
And he’d already decided to put his spark on hold for now.
’But I don’t know what my class or fras will be. But I can guess that...’
Uriel sat there, eyes closed, humming and huffing for hours, deep in thought. He didn’t even notice as aether burned from his core, fueling his mind and accelerating his train of thought.
As he thought, he noticed yet another layer of complexity and consideration.
Say he ford his First Circle based on a fire runic language—would he be locked into only ever being able to cast First Circle fire spells?
And if he used his Sixth Circle for an enhancent-type runic language, would he have wasted his entire Sixth Circle arsenal on buff and debuff spells?
If that was the case, then the entire structure of his mage foundation would have to shift and be reworked. Each circle would need a different aning—his lower circles would have to matter because of their essence, not their power.
As ti flowed, more and more factors blood into consideration.
Hours passed, and the light of day began to fade beyond the horizon.
...
CLING!
The door opened, then closed.
Ayah got back ho, exhausted, but also quietly excited.
The sll of cooking food filled her nostrils, surprising her as lamps lit up around the living room, creating a warm, cozy atmosphere.
Walking in, she imdiately laid eyes on the fast-asleep Enoch, his snores resounding across the room. Looking to her left, she then spotted Uriel in the kitchen.
"Hello, I’m ho."
"OH—" Uriel jumped and turned, startled by her voice.
When he saw her, he relaxed—then grimaced, feeling the burn of the sauce he’d spilled on his hands and the floor.
"You scared the life out of ."
Running his hands under water, he rinsed the sauce off himself, then grabbed a napkin and squatted down, cleaning the ss he’d made.
"Are you alright? How was work? I’d give you a kiss and all, but I’m quite greasy at the mont."
Ayah was taken aback. Walking over, she sat on one of the counter’s high chairs and asked, "Kiss ?"
Leaning forward, she looked at him. He glanced up and t her gaze, confused.
"You don’t do that? A kiss on the cheek to say hello?"
"I think it’s called ’La Bise’ or sothing like that." He looked back down, shrugging. "I used to do it with my grandmother after she ca back from her preaching sessions."
"Could be unique to us." He paused, then stood back up, tossing the pile of sauce-soaked napkins into the bin.
"You alright?" he asked again.
Ayah shook her head and chuckled. "I’m fine."
With a swift motion, she removed her veils, letting her long lavender hair flow freely, finally drawing a proper breath of fresh air.
"I quit my job."
Uriel turned to her, grinning. He set the steaming pot in his hands back onto the stove.
"That’s great!"
"I suppose that ans you’re joining us, right?" He leaned on the counter, staring at her. "What made you make up your mind? That was quick."
For a mont, Ayah lost herself in Uriel’s ivory eyes—her visage reflected within them, her mind lulled into peace by his smile.
Without realizing it, her thoughts began combing through the happiest of her mories, the brightest skies she’d ever seen, and the most pleasant scents she’d ever been graced to sll.
She remained dazed, lost in his eyes and her own reflections, for a long mont, before blinking and finally snapping back to herself.
A faint blush colored her face.
"I—uh, yes!" She cleared her throat. "I really do not like my job very much, in all honesty."
Uriel tilted his head. "Really? Why is that? You have access to all the settlent’s VIPs, right?"
She shook her head and leaned back into her chair. "I do, but the job itself really isn’t anything fun."
"In general, the people I’m actually supposed to take care of are those like you and Enoch; the top perforrs of each trial, and those most likely to survive the dangers of the dungeon."
She sighed. "The issue is that we don’t have many of those in the settlent. Outside of you two, there are fewer than ten people who received a mark from the trial."
"The others bought one, or loaned one, afterward. So I can’t really do my job. And if I can’t do my job, then I can’t make money. And if I can’t make money, then I can’t grow."
"Which is essentially a death sentence."
Uriel turned back to the stoves, tending to the pans and pots as he nodded. "Hm. I see. What are you expected to do, though? Are you ant to be a personal assistant for those of the emporium?"
"No," she said. "I’m supposed to act as a sort of liaison. You sign a contract with , and I’ll go looking for whatever resource or service you want."
"Through , the top mbers of the emporium usually gain access to auctions, secret deals with the shop, specialized instructors from the training center, and much more."
"I was supposed to be so rich..."
She threw her head back and lanted.
"But the settlent is filled with below-average awakened."
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