Chương 3: Croaking Wave

I stood at a safe distance and watched. I was having doubts. This was new. Salamanders didn't have doubts. We had instincts. Instincts were simple: Is it food? Eat. Is it a threat? Hide. Is it neither? Ignore. This was a workable philosophy that had served us amphibians well. But now, deep in my consciousness, a voice was telling me to help. The animal-eared one was going to die. I had no logical reason to help him. He'd threatened to kill me, which seemed rude. And yet. Help him, the voice whispered.

But what could I do? I was afraid of fire. I'd seen fire once, when I'd ventured too close to a human campsite. They'd been roasting a bird until it turned golden brown. The heat was wrong, the light was wrong, and the smell was somehow both delicious and terrifying. It haunted my dreams for weeks. Fire was scary. Then the voice butted in at the most convenient moment. [You have Water Affinity.] The human brain helpfully supplied that I should use it. My internal monologue went like this: How?

The human brain replied, I don't know. You only have fire skills. That's not helpful. [I'm more helpful. I can tell you how to use magic in general.] That's rude! And why didn't you help me before? the human brain complained. [We need to lower the standards. Humans have books; salamanders have damp rocks.] … Fair point. [First, raise your hand and aim it at the burning web.] I followed reluctantly. This felt ridiculous. I was standing in a dungeon, pointing at a fire.

About to attempt magic based on instructions from a voice that was indirectly insulting my rock. The voice started giving instructions, step by step, because I was demonstrably a slow learner. [Magic is about intent, will, and visualization. You have to want something to happen. See it happening. Believe, with absolute certainty, that the universe will cooperate with your ridiculous demands.] This sounded like the kind of philosophy invented by humans who'd never been salamanders. But I tried anyway.

I thought of my pond. My damp rock. The lily pads. The annoying frogs, croaking their self-important frog opinions into the night. I thought of water. Cool, clean, blessed water. Water that was not fire. Water that would very much like to have a conversation with this fire about territory and boundaries. Something stirred in my chest that felt like the first time I'd submerged in the pond after a dry day. Something that felt like relief. I know this part. The human brain took over. Now channel it through the bow.

I blinked. What bow? The one I was using earlier? Oh. That curved stick. Yes, that one. It's made out of the branch of Yggdrasil and can be used as a staff. Where is it? I left it. There was a pause before the human brain asked, You… left it? It wasn't particularly damp, I explained reasonably. You need a catalyst to channel magic properly! The human brain was definitely screaming now. A magic item, or at least a precious gemstone, or you'll just— I latched onto something in that sentence. Precious stone…

The human brain noticed my attention shift. Wait, what are you— My hand went to my head. My fingers wrapped around the rock. The flat, dungeon-dry, non-magical rock that had been providing me emotional support. I aimed it at the flames. That's not a gemstone! You can't channel elemental magic through sediment! But the water had opinions of its own about what constituted a proper focus. And right now, those opinions were salamander-aligned. Water shot from the rock.

It was an explosion of water, propelled by panic, instinct, and the accumulated frustration of a salamander who had been forced to be dry for far too long. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It hit the spider directly in its cluster of eyes. The spider shrieked. The fire went out. Steam filled the corridor. Thick, damp, and perfect. When the steam cleared, the spider was still standing — with frogs on its head. Croaking.

They stomped like it was a lily pad, filing their complaints. This was not ideal. I'd been hoping for "spider defeated" or at least "spider confused." What I got was "spider wet, angry, and opinionated frogs." It screeched loudly. Most of the frogs scattered. One frog did not. It continued croaking at the spider before finally leaving. The spider's second screech had more feelings. I stared at the frogs. They still looked annoying. Then at my rock. It said Hi! I considered why all of this happened.

Maybe it's not damp enough? Because it's just a rock! the human brain shrieked in my head. It's not even supposed to work! You can't just — you can't solve magical inadequacy with moisture content! But the fire was out. Zebron was not burning to death. I put my precious rock back on my head and marked the whole situation as "good enough" and filed it under "moral obligations fulfilled." When the human brain stopped screaming and being annoying, the voice sneaked in: [You have unlocked Croaking Wave.] [You can now produce a wave of fresh water containing frogs. The frogs will determine their own level of involvement.] I considered this fair. Frogs always had opinions. Aria picked up the staff and scrambled to Zebron's side, raising her free hand to his burnt arm.

"Buy me some time. Heal." Golden light began to envelop Zebron's arm, warm and steady despite her shaking hand. I did not buy her time. I did not know how one purchased time, and even if I did, I suspected it wasn't a transaction salamanders were equipped for. I watched from what I considered a reasonable distance. This was the correct amount of involvement for a salamander.

The spider didn't wait for them to finish whatever they were doing, which was the sane thing to do, from one predator's perspective to another. Then it suddenly tripped. One of its legs was on the floor. Next to it was Norman. I forgot about him, again. I was sure the spider had also forgotten about him. It raised one of its legs like a spear.

"Ignore." Norman moved backward at a normal speed, not slowly and not running. Just a normal human walking. The spider's leg hung suspended in the air, like it had forgotten what to do with it.

"Over here, idiot!" Zebron shouted, arm already pulled back.

"I'm not done healing you yet!" Aria shouted behind him. The spider turned and received Zebron's fist. It shrieked, all of its eyes now on him. It lunged with one leg, but another leg flew out from under it again. It lost its balance and missed. It was Norman, again. I was starting to think he was less a human and more a rumor the spider kept almost catching up to.

"You keep telling me you're not an assassin." Zebron delivered another punch.

"But I'd trust you more to pull off a sneak attack than a real one." Norman didn't answer and simply moved back. He strolled to the spider's back. It raised a leg and stabbed the ground where it had lost the other one. No one was there.

"Strength up. Speed up." Aria cast, and an aura of gold enveloped Zebron.

"Why do you keep charging alone?!"

"I'm with Norman!"

"Who's Norman?" The spider opened its mouth. Zebron was already mid-swing, fist pulled back for another punch.

"Shit." Web shot from its mouth, catching him mid-motion and slamming him into a far wall. It held him there, stuck, arms pinned at odd angles like a very annoyed insect specimen.

"Damn it!" Zebron strained against the strands. They didn't budge.

"Of course it does that too." The spider skittered closer, mouth working, clearly pleased with itself. I'd never seen a spider look smug before… maybe because I'd never seen one this big before, with a face big enough to read.

"Seriously?!" Aria pointed her staff at him.

"Burn."

"Wait—" Zebron started. The web caught fire instantly, the flames racing up the silk toward Zebron's pinned arms. He dropped to the ground the moment the last strand gave, landing in a crouch and immediately patting out a few stray flames on his shirt with both hands.

"Thanks, Aria," he said, once the fire was out.

"Don't mention it." Aria sighed, then smiled. But the spider had already turned, charging at Aria with a leg raised above her. She looked up, eyes wide.

"Eh?" I grabbed my rock, aimed it at the spider— Someone tackled her, making the leg miss as they rolled on the ground.

"I'm Norman." Looks like I'm not needed. I put my rock back on my head. Aria looked at him.

"Norman? Ah… yes… Norman…"

"You forgot?" Norman straightened and fixed his stance.

"No… it just… slipped my mind." She averted her gaze while scratching her cheek with one finger.

"So you forgot." He circled to the spider's back. It followed him with its multiple eyes, all of them.

"I'm back, idiot!" Zebron headbutted the spider, stunning it. He opened his mouth. There were fangs that shouldn't be there for a herbivore. He bit the spider's face. So he's not a zebra? The spider froze. Probably from the pure indignity of the situation. It was a spider. It did the biting. This was the natural order of things, and Zebron was violating it, the same way I would object if a beetle suddenly attempted to eat me instead of the other way around. Wait… didn't that just happen earlier?

The spider screeched, calling back my attention. It remembered its opinions and bit back. It drove its fangs into Zebron's shoulder with the full force of something that had decided to stop being surprised and start being angry. Zebron winced but didn't let go.

"Ignore." Norman stepped forward. The spider's head disconnected from its body without warning. It collapsed. Zebron spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh… it's done," I murmured. Aria shook her head and walked over to Zebron.

"Good work." She raised her glowing hand.

"You're an idiot." He looked at the spider and the swordsman sheathing his sword beside it. He raised a fist. Norman bumped it with his. I looked at them and decided, My job here is done. You contributed nothing after the water, the human brain argued. Something behind me clicked. I froze. Slowly, very slowly, I turned. There were approximately six beetles. Possibly seven. It was hard to count when each one had that many eyes, and all of them were looking at me with what appeared to be recognition.

And possibly resentment. The rock, I thought with perfect clarity, is not going to be enough.