Chương 72: 70. No Interface

The world is a confusing, chaotic jumble of nonsense. I lie in my bed, surrounded by hooded cultists that all look like Saban. One steps forward and lowers her hood to reveal Violet, who plunges her knife into the neck of a laser gecko. Its lifeless body flops over and the dead eyes of the priestess Kiera stare back at me. A gunshot echoes through the cave, and Talla screams as she's engulfed by fire. Reyna charges me with his spear and I squint my eyes shut, covering my ears.

It doesn't stop me from reliving what happens next. E'ava'al'n glares banefully at me, and though she says nothing I know that all of this is my fault. Then she's devoured by Nipper from the feet up. Blood pools at my feet, rising inexorably up past my legs until I'm nearly drowning. It bubbles and burns, melting my flesh and skin as I release a silent scream. The caustic blood floods my throat and lungs, choking and burning me from the inside out. I wake up screaming and covered in sweat.

My throat still burns as if the dream was real. Someone's hands hold my wrists to stop me from thrashing as they force me onto my side just in time for me to empty the contents of my stomach—though nothing comes out but stomach acid and bile.

"Relax! Please!" Talla directs me, and I realize it's her that's holding me.

"Calm down. Just breathe."

"Wub..." I begin, then cough and spit out a mouthful of bile before trying again.

"What's happening?"

"Goddess only knows how much magical strain," she explains.

"Combined with the side effects of coming down from a tincture dose meant for someone twice your size. You're weirdly resilient to the psychological effects of strain, but you've pushed your body to the absolute brink."

"Oh..." I croak. Chancing an attempt at opening my eyes, I manage to take in the sight of a few tents before the sunlight tries to murder me.

"Gah, frick," I swear.

"I feel like I have a million hangovers at once."

"I don't know what that means," Talla sighs, "but I recognize that weird curse—Allie, right?" Uh, I guess so? It feels a bit weird that she figured that out before I did, but I'm not exactly at my best right now.

"Yeah. Where are we?" Sunlight means we're outside, which I'm grateful for, but we could be anywhere. I don't even know how long I was unconscious.

"We're back at our original camp, where we set up before the delve," she says.

"Technically, our original mission was only escort, protection, and consultation. Kiera insisted we set up camp away from the convergence point and that her group would go in alone." I frown.

"Kinda weird, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. Their task was supposed to be routine maintenance of a seal, and the church is generally pretty secretive about how convergence points are contained," Talla explains.

"In hindsight, it seems like they were hiding something, but at the time it was pretty normal." Awesome. More mysteries. I don't want to think about them right now. I don't want to think about anything. Thinking hurts.

"You never said tinctures had side effects," I complain, rubbing my temples and rolling over to get away from the smell of my own vomit.

"They don't, when they're taken in controlled doses carefully measured by a trained pharmacist," she deadpans.

"Kiera and I have—had similar physiques and expressions, so I could use her tinctures without too much trouble. You are tiny, have a completely different physiology, and I don't even know what to say about your magical expression."

"Complicated," I mutter darkly. I'm pretty sure it's just different for each of us. I certainly feel pretty dang depressed right now, though that might just be a combination of the hangover and just regular run-of-the-mill sadness. I still feel bad about Saban. The others too, even if it was in self-defense. The nightmare doesn't help either.

"Indeed," Talla sighs.

"Take your time to rest and recover. We've got supplies to last, and Draga doesn't want to return until we've had a conversation about what to do next." Oh man, that's gonna be a whole mess, isn't it? I've caused so much trouble for them, and they're still willing to include me in their discussions. It sucks knowing that I'm just going to cause them even more trouble for their generosity, but there's no helping it.

If I've learned anything from this entire disaster, it's that I've got no chance of surviving this world on my own. Violet and Maggie aren't enough, as grateful as I am to have them. And then there's Evelyn... I... don't know what to do about her. Vi and Mags are at least still me—which, I know, is probably not the right way to think of it, but I can't totally change my thinking overnight. Evelyn is the first headmate that truly feels like someone else. But what am I supposed to do? Kick her out somehow? Eject her?

Kill her? I don't want to do any of that. Plus, if we can learn to get along, it might be nice having someone from this world who can help orient us. Just having her here has already made it way easier to understand other Fa'aun without Maggie's spell. Somehow, getting out of that cave has only made our list of problems bigger. I'm grateful to the rangers for giving me time to process it all. I lie back in my cot—which I only just now noticed—and try to relax a little bit.

I really don't want to go back to sleep after that nightmare, but I don't feel well enough to move around either.

"Holy fuck," Maggie's voice cuts through the silence.

"What the fuck? I'm not even in front and I feel like boiled ass. What happened to us?" This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"I think you did, Maggie," Violet responds.

"Talla warned us that overusing magic would have consequences."

"Ugh, shit," Mags groans.

"That was supposed to be a tomorrow problem."

"Welcome to tomorrow," I chuckle mirthlessly.

"Good morning, girls."

"There's nothing 'good' about it," Maggie complains.

"Can I please opt out of the magical hangover?"

"Seems hardly fair when you're the one who caused it," I point out.

"Yeah, well..." she trails off, unable to come up with a retort.

"Should we consider what to do about our finished classes?" Violet suggests, ever eager to dig into the numbers.

"Is this really the time?" I ask.

"Especially when even looking at one of our classes causes us more strain?"

"We could at least consider our options," she replies.

"I'll take it over wallowing in misery," Maggie agrees.

"But first, and much more importantly—where's Nipper?" Oh, that's a good point actually. I sit up a bit, taking a moment to shake off the headrush that causes, then shade my eyes and try to get another look at our surroundings. We're on what looks to be some kind of rocky plateau, with the mountain looming to one side and a view overlooking an arid valley that gives me vertigo on the other.

Three tents are set up around a central campfire, next to which is the wooden cot I'm lying on along with a few piles of supplies—including the lizard-based rations and my precious candle burrito. Draga sits opposite the campfire, focused on maintaining his sword—which I suspect is just a habitual bit of busywork rather than something he actually has to do as often as he does—and Talla makes her way over with a small tub of water and a cloth.

She kneels down next to me and starts using the cloth to wipe my face before I take it from her, blushing.

"I can do that myself, thank you!" I insist. She chuckles, but lets me clean myself up, not moving from her spot.

"Where is Nipper?" I ask, slightly worried about the little guy. If they managed to move so much of our stuff over, I must have been out a while. Didn't they say something about things from convergence points not being able to survive outside?

"Your pet?" she asks.

"It hasn't left your side." Talla points out the slick black worm coiled up like a cat at our feet. I didn't even notice him there. Has he gotten bigger again? It's hard to tell when he's coiled up like that, but I think he's even longer. By now he's almost more snake than worm except for his weirdly smooth skin and freaky lamprey jaws.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"You're worried about taking it out of the convergence point?" Talla asks.

"It would be a problem if you were releasing it into the wild, but individual specimens can survive just fine with a bit of care. If you really plan to keep it, though, you'll want to take a class to help support it—especially before it evolves." I blink. Evolves? Like a... dang it, the word's not coming to me, but the concept feels eerily familiar.

"What happens if he evolves?"

"Non-sentient creatures don't level up the way people do," Talla explains.

"They don't have classes. Instead, they develop new traits when evolving their species. Most animals never reach the stage where it happens, but it's common for anomalous creatures living in convergence points. The flaregaze basilisk we fought is an evolution from the more common embergaze." I look down at Nipper, frowning.

"Is he gonna turn into an exploding worm?" She chuckles and shakes her head.

"Probably not—though if you keep feeding it candles, a fire-related evolution isn't out of the question. Still, it's better not to leave such things up to chance. A good class will let you appraise it, and even tip the scales on when and how it evolves." This is sounding more and more like... that thing I keep trying to think of by the second.

"Can't you appraise it with magic?" I ask.

"Certainly, although the results won't be as useful as a dedicated tamer class." Talla's eyes glow for a moment as she examines Nipper, then turns to me with a shrug.

"[Cave Worm]," she offers. [Cave Worm] An anomalous worm-like creature discovered within a convergence point. Capable of consuming and storing large masses and transmuting them into a sticky webbing.

"Even that's more than I'd usually get from an unidentified species," she sighs.

"Appraisal spells are infamously finicky. One of my class domains is divination, and I still struggle to get anything specific." I'm a little curious about class domains, but this is already a lot to take in, so I'll save that conversation for later.

"I see," I reply with a nod, finishing up with the washcloth and handing it back.

"Thanks, Talla."

"Any time!" she says with a smile.

"If there's anything else you need to know, don't hesitate to ask! Class theory isn't my main field, but it's almost impossible to get a university degree without at least dabbling in it."

"You should ask her about our shared class," Maggie suggests.

"Maybe she knows something useful, and if nothing else we should ask our doctor whether it's okay to risk a bit of strain for another level up."

"I agree," Violet says.

"We're pretty much all-in on trusting Talla at this point, so there's no sense holding anything back." Hmm. I suppose it's worth a try, at least, though something tells me that [Unified Wanderers] is a corner case that she's never seen before.

"Talla, can I tell you about my last class?" I ask.

"The one I can't show you?"

"If you're comfortable with it," she replies carefully.

"You don't have to, but I promise to keep anything you share in confidence." The ensuing conversation takes a long time, mostly on account of the language barrier, but eventually I manage to explain the basics—how the class is permanent, the fact that it's the same for each of us, and most crucially the fact that it causes us magical strain just to look at it.

"Infinity" wasn't a concept I was able to convey, but she at least grasps that it contains too much information to handle.

"Huh, I guess it makes sense that you didn't want to communicate it via [Message]," she muses.

"That's very unusual, though. I've heard of and even experienced that kind of strain from divination magic, but it shouldn't be possible for regular interfacing with the [World Engine] to cause it."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Because when I was first added to the mechanism, I got headaches all the time. It was only later that I... what?" I trail off when she starts looking at me strangely, furrowing her brows.

"I must have misunderstood that," Talla mutters.

"When you were what?"

"Added? Integrated? Registered? Uh..." I pause, trying to think of other synonyms before realizing that none of them are helpful.

"When I first woke up, I had no interface." She stares at me as if I just grew a second head.

"What do you mean no interface?" Uh oh. I think I might have said something I shouldn't.