System Status: Online… mostly, he thought groggily. Hardware Integrity: Compromised but functional. Primary Damage: Musculoskeletal strain, minor mana pathway disruption (backlash). Mana Levels: Critically low (~5/100), passive recharge initiated (+5% bonus from Title active). Estimated Time to Full Operational Capacity: Approx. 10 hours remaining.
He mentally queried EMMA’s crash log. Diagnosis: Minor Mana Backlash. Severity Level: 2 (out of 10 Est.). Fortunate. Pushing that much raw energy through an untested, overloaded cantrip could easily have resulted in fried internal circuits. Note to self: Document 'Tactical Illumination Surprise' side effects. Include: temporary user incapacitation, significant mana depletion, potential 'exhausted blueberry' cosmetic effect. Further testing strongly discouraged without controlled environment and fire extinguisher.
As EMMA finalized the backlash assessment, another notification flashed across his internal display, unexpected but welcome:
XP Gain Detected: +800 XP (Combat Trial: Yegun Fastblade - Survival/Neutralization)
Total XP: 1200 / 1000
LEVEL UP! User Level 2 Achieved
XP Reset: 200 / 2000
Unallocated Stat Points Available: 3
New title: Light Weaponized – unique use of Light spell. Effect: +10% effectiveness to Light spells
Level 2, three more stat points and a new title. Despite the aches, the exhaustion, and the near-catastrophic mana depletion, the trial had yielded concrete results. A quantifiable measure of progress. It wasn't just survival; it was advancement. The new title “Light Weaponized” was also interesting, the effect might not be major, but if he could get a few other titles, it will add up. The validation was a small, cool balm against the lingering discomfort. Objective met, and key performance indicator improved, he thought with a flicker of grim satisfaction. Now, about those operational constraints...
Sunlight, warm and unwelcome, slanted through a high window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the otherwise still air of the small, functional room. Standard Guild issue: narrow cot, rough blanket, chipped bedside table, wooden chair. Occupying that chair, slumped forward with her head resting on arms folded atop the edge of his cot, was Julia.
Her breathing was deep, even, the profound sleep of someone running on empty. Strands of dark auburn hair had escaped their usual braid, spilling like spilled wine across the stark white infirmary sheet. Even asleep, exhaustion was etched onto her face, pale skin beneath a scatter of freckles, faint purple smudges beneath her closed eyes. Evidence of a long, anxious vigil.
A complex algorithm ran through William’s internal processors. Gratitude: High. Affection (variable, difficult to quantify): Significant positive value. Guilt (resource-intensive background process): Rising steadily. This was the third time? Fourth? he’d woken up in a compromised state to find her there. Is there some kind of Frequent Near-Death Experience loyalty program I've inadvertently joined? he wondered wryly. 'Risk life and limb three times, get one concerned A-Rank mage vigil free'? He appreciated it. Deeply. More than his internal emotional intelligence could easily articulate. But the dependency grated, a persistent incompatibility error in his desire for self-sufficiency. He needed to patch his own vulnerabilities, stop generating critical error tickets for her queue. Still… the warmth spreading through his chest, overriding some of the backlash chill, was undeniably… nice. A statistically significant positive emotional correlation.
He shifted, trying to ease an ache in his shoulder without waking her. A soft, involuntary sound escaped him, half chuckle at the absurdity, half groan of relief at being conscious. It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.
Julia’s head snapped up, eyes blinking rapidly, momentarily unfocused. Then, they sharpened, locking onto him. Recognition flooded her face, followed by a wave of relief that visibly softened her features, for about point-three seconds. Then came the snap back to sharp concern, overlaid with a not insignificant level of annoyance. She pushed herself upright, smoothing her travel-worn tunic with jerky movements.
“You're awake,” she stated, her voice raspy with sleep. She cleared her throat, and the familiar edge returned, honed sharp. “And laughing? Are you serious, William? That wasn't amusing. That was certifiably insane. Do you have any concept of how reckless that stunt was?”
She was on her feet, pacing the limited space between cot and wall, agitation radiating off her like heat. “It was a trial, William! Survival! Not… not detonating untested magic in someone's face! We talked about mana backlash, repeatedly! The risks! Did any of it register? You could have burned yourself out, permanently! For what? To make some dramatic point in a glorified sparring match?”
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Her words were sharp, laser-focused. But beneath the anger, William saw the lingering fear in the tightness around her eyes, the slight tremor in her hand as she gestured, the deep lines of exhaustion her frustration couldn't hide. This wasn't just a lecture, it was the verbal debrief after hours spent running worst-case scenarios. The guilt spiked again, sharp and unpleasant. User action resulted in significant negative emotional impact on key stakeholder.
“I know,” he said quietly, his own voice rough. He levered himself up slightly against the thin pillow, wincing as abused muscles screamed in protest. He met her worried, furious gaze directly. “I know it was dangerous. And monumentally reckless. I'm sorry, Julia. For scaring you. That wasn't my intent.”
He paused, gathering his scattered thoughts, trying to bridge the gap between his analytical justification and her visceral reaction. “But it wasn't just about proving a point. I had to pass. I needed Borin, needed you, to see that I wasn't just… baggage. That I could offer something different to the mission.” He looked down at the rough blanket, tracing a seam with his finger. Explaining EMMA felt like trying to describe quantum physics using only interpretive dance. “I know I'm not a fighter. My magic control is… rudimentary,” he admitted, the 'rusty wrench' analogy echoing in his mind. “But I process information differently. I see patterns, probabilities… the data behind the obvious.” He risked meeting her eyes again. “I believed… I believe, that perspective, that analysis, could be valuable in Tallenwood, in Lumenar. More valuable than me staying safely here.”
He took a breath, the admission costing him something. “Standard defence was failing. Yegun adapted, used Haste… the probability of survival via conventional methods dropped to effectively zero. The… the Light spell overload… it was a calculated risk. Low probability, high impact. According to my analysis from E…” He caught himself. “...according to the situation, it was the only remaining variable with a non-negative potential outcome.”
Julia stopped pacing, her arms crossed, studying him intently. The fire in her eyes cooled slightly, replaced by that familiar, weary exasperation, now tinged with grudging understanding. She saw the sincerity flickering beneath the analytical shield, the desperate logic driving the reckless act. She saw the physical cost etched onto his face, mirroring her own fatigue. She still didn't understand how he anticipated Yegun, or how he'd turned a simple cantrip into a blinding flash, but she believed he believed it was necessary. And, disturbingly, despite every rational fibre screaming caution, a part of her believed him too.
She sank back into the chair with a sigh that seemed to deflate her entirely. “That was risky,” she repeated, the words heavy with exhaustion. “William, life isn't a dataset. You can't quantify everything. Some risks… they just aren't worth taking.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded softly. “But you can still analyse the variables you do have, mitigate where possible, and choose the path with the least catastrophic probable failure, even if the data is incomplete.” He held her gaze, the unspoken question finally surfacing. “So… did the gamble work? Did I make the ten minutes? Did Borin…?” The fear of rejection, of being deemed a liability despite passing the technical requirement, felt suddenly, coldly real.
Julia watched him, the silence stretching, amplifying the distant sounds of the Guild stirring outside. He saw the internal conflict, her fierce desire to protect him warring with her Guild duty, her logical assessment clashing with her inexplicable faith in his hidden potential.
Finally, she took a deep breath, her expression settling into one of weary resolution. “Borin… ruled that you met the objective,” she stated, her voice quiet, level. “You remained mobile and conscious, albeit barely, until the timer ran out. And you successfully neutralized your opponent, however unconventionally.” She paused, letting the first part sink in before delivering the rest. “He granted your request. You have permission to join the Lumenar expedition team.”
Relief crashed over William, potent and overwhelming, momentarily silencing the thrumming ache behind his eyes. He closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. Objective achieved. Permission granted. The validation felt like finally resolving a persistent, system-crashing bug after days of relentless debugging. Magnified by a thousand.
His internal celebration, however, was immediately short-circuited by Julia’s next words, her tone regaining its firmness, her gaze sharp and serious.
“But,” she continued, ensuring he understood the caveats, “know this, William. It wasn't a unanimous decision. Sir Roland argued strongly against your inclusion. Vehemently. He views your performance as reckless endangerment, attributing your survival to luck and your final tactic as dangerously unpredictable. He considers you an unacceptable liability to the mission and, more importantly, to Prince Caspian's safety.”
She hesitated, the next admission clearly costing her. “And I… I agreed with his assessment of the risk, William. My recommendation to Borin was against your participation.” The words hung in the air between them. “Not because I doubt your potential, because, gods help me, I don't. But because I believe Roland is right about the danger to you. This mission isn't basic training. Tallenwood is hostile territory. Lumenar is politically treacherous. Prince Caspian must be protected. My vote… was for keeping you alive.”
William nodded slowly, the initial wave of elation receding, replaced by a sobering understanding. Passed, yes. Approved, yes. But on probation. Under scrutiny. With powerful opposition within the team itself, including his closest ally. Stakeholder Confidence: Mixed (Majority override secured via Guildmaster). Key Influencer Opposition: High (Sir Roland, Julia). Performance Expectations: Extreme. Margin for Error: Approaching Zero.
“I understand,” he said, his voice quiet but steady, meeting her conflicted gaze. “I know the risks. And I know I have everything to prove. I won't be a liability, Julia. I won't let you down. Or Roland. Or Borin.”
He compartmentalized the lingering aches, the memory of the backlash, focusing on the next logical data point. “So Borin overruled both you and Sir Roland,” he stated, processing the implications. His analytical mind immediately sought the missing variable. “Why?”
William Shard - Character Sheet
- Level: 2
- XP: 0 / 2000 (Level up after trial against Yegun)
- Titles:
- Novice Magic Analyst - Effect: +5% Mana Regeneration Rate
- Light Weaponized - Effect: +10% effectiveness to Light spells
- Class: Magic Analyst
Stats:
- Strength: 15
- Agility: 18
- Magical Power: 20
- Vitality: 15
- HP (Vitality *10): 150
- Mana (Magic / 2 * 10): 100
- Unallocated Stat Points: 3
Skills:
- Swordsmanship: Basic
- Magic (Conventional): Basic
- EMMA System: Basic
- Language (Averian Common): Basic
- Healing / Regeneration: ??? (Unknown - Nature Undefined)