Magic Breaker [Enby MC Anti-Mage LitRPG]

/That newbie is just not made tha’ same as the rest of us! I saw Ion being carried around by a horde of monsters, I tell ye! Not dead, but hale and hearty, commanding them like some kinda fledgling divinity! 

It was a swarm of the blasted buggers, dead eyes staring me down, saying that if I tried to take even a step closer to their saviour, they’d eat me alive. Ran as fast as my legs would carry me ‘n then some. Bounty ain’t worth dying over./

-Gregor Grognose, level 29 Drinker

- - -

The ants carry me back to the colony. Dozens of them were already waiting for us to kill the crawler, and when they saw me limp, a command came through. They asked, first, then when I agreed, lifted me onto their carapaces like a shifting bed beneath me.

I can feel some of the tiny hairs poke through my torn up shirt, already needing a new one. I should figure out self repair soon, really. But the hairs don’t bother me… not too much, at least. Ants aren’t like humans, after all. They asked, first. They’d withdraw if I wanted them to.

Instead, while they scurry about beneath me, I focus on my healing skill, mending my flesh, bit by bit. My wounds hurt, and I think they were most likely more severe than Richard’s, given that she only really took a few scrapes, and I almost lost an arm. 

Ah well. It’s what it’s. Not like it’s too inconvenient. Whether I started healing them back then or now, the mana it takes is still almost the same, after all. 

In the colony, I’m eventually deposited into a chair. It’s made from bits of mushroom-wood and some treated spider silk for cushioning. I’m kinda curious to see how furniture is made up on the higher floors. Do people have even higher-levelled jobs there? What could a weaver in their fourth job evolution do?

Curious. 

The ants have arranged an entire room for us, and after some time, Meg comes to visit me and Richard. Despite it being her colony, she knocks on the stone arch, waiting for me to welcome her in before she enters. I appreciate the politeness.

In her humanoid form, she takes a seat across from me. “A task well-completed,” she praises, giving me a chitter of amusement, and a dull glance at my still bleeding arm.

“Seems it,” I say, casting my heal again, leaving my mana at about half full. Just in case I need it, of course. 

“Do you suspect your party members will be back soon?” she asks.

“Opal will be last,” I tell her.

She tilts her head. “Oh? Why is that?”

“They’ll get lost in the fun of it and cause more chaos than needed. Thatch’ll bring back the eggs, and then a while after that, Opal will show up with a few cuts and bruises and yell for me to heal them,” I say calmly. 

Amused, Meg chitters again. “You humans sure are strange critters.”

I smile. “Oh, yes. Humans are real weirdos. Especially the normal ones,” I smile.

“Normal?” she asks.

“Oh, we have categories for typically expected and unexpected behaviours,” I say. “Most of my friends, at least in some ways, are outside the norm.”

“Does anyone perfectly fit the average, expected behaviour?” the queen asks with some interest.

I shake my head. “Nah, not really,” I say. “People are different, after all. Ah, but Inu’s dad is pretty normal, for one.”

“He’s so skittish, though,” Meg giggles. “How is he so afraid of things so much smaller than him?”

“Venom, probably.”

“Ah,” she says. “That does make sense.”

I nod in reply, casting another heal. My flesh knits itself together some more. It’s a strange sensation, the way my muscles writhe. I can feel the wound on my face try to pull at the magic, but I make sure [Selection] is active on the bits it actually works on. My face is a mana-sink and frankly not worth it.

Meg watches me curiously. “Your healing skill, does it work on ants?” she asks. There is a gentle tone to her voice, a tiny quiver that I note. Her compound eyes give away no emotion, but her wringing claw-hands do.

“Dunno,” I reply honestly. “Need me to look at someone?”

“Your wounds are grievous, take care-”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, raising from my chair. Blood drips down my arm, and from a dozen half-scabbed cuts on my leg. I stretch my shoulders a bit. “Who do you need me to heal?” I ask.

Meg pauses for a long while. “You are… I see. Thank you, Snow. That is kind of you. I’m glad you have such empathy.”

I give her a long, blank look. Empathy? Me? That doesn’t sound quite right. Should I kill her for saying it? Ah, that’d be rude. I smile. “I don’t think I do,” I reply simply. “I just get annoyed when people whine and moan, and pain makes ‘em complain a bunch.”

She stares at me. “You were just… bothered by my conflict?” she asks.

“Sounds about right,” I nod. “There’s a problem. I can probably solve it. Please, point me at the problem, so you no longer have to tiptoe around it. That’s annoying.”

Meg looks at me for another long moment, then chitters an amused laugh. “You humans are so curious.”

I tilt my head. “What’s it got to do with us being human?”

“Oh. You people are so curious, I suppose,” she corrects.

A small smile spreads on my face. “Mh. Yea. People are strange, aren’t they?” For a few seconds, there’s a companionable silence in the small room, decorated for us. Meg seems lost in thought. How troublesome it must be to be a queen. So much responsibility. I look at Richard, sitting on the floor chewing on a few rocks, and smirk. I can barely deal with our little group.

“Point me at the problem, please,” I eventually say, and Meg turns to look at me. 

“Right,” she says, drawing a deep breath, centering herself. “Follow me.”

I nod, and we walk. As we do so, I give a little more thought to her words from before. The reason why I heal people. It’s annoying to investigate, cuz it feels like shit. It sucks to look inward myself and find that yawning emptiness. The lack of care I’ve had for as long as I can remember. 

We turn a corner, and I pick the moment to speak. “I’m not a kind person, you know?” I ask.

Meg turns to look at me, tilting her head. “Are you not?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I try to be a good person, mostly, but I’m not kind.”

The hive queen hums at me for a few moments, walking further. “Does the difference matter?”

“Very,” I say. “It matters so much.”

She looks at me and nods. “I see,” she says. Then she watches me for a little bit. “You want me to speak on this, do you?”

I nod.

Meg nods, then thinks for a few moments. I’ve asked her to philosophize, and she does. Hearing her talking is calming. The thought that I hate too much talk but can find it relaxing to get talked at is amusing.

Eventually, as we walk through another tunnel, the amount of ants around us steadily decreasing, Meg talks. “I care a lot for my children,” she says. “Each and every one of them is family. And yet, at the same time, there are thousands, tens of thousands of them. They are, to some degree, expendable.”

She draws in a breath, clenching her claws. “That kind of mentality is one I try to avoid. It is cruel and callous. It is unfair to all of them. And yet, none would hesitate to sacrifice themselves for one another. I think that dedication is as wonderful as it is tragic.” She gives me a sad smile.

“So, sometimes, my kids die.”

“Does it hurt?” I ask. 

Meg nods. “It does.” She gives me a long look. “Each and every time. It hurts. And I want to do better, to keep them safe, but there is simply no way. Because, at the end of the day, we need resources. We expand, clear caverns, battle with other species for territory. I lay eggs. The colony grows. And on it goes.”

For a while, the ant queen looks at the ceiling, the only noise coming from our steps. “Where does your conflict stem from?” she asks, not looking at me.

I stare at her, considering whether I wanna answer at all. And then, I decide I do. Precisely because she doesn’t care, because I think I could kill her if her answer pisses me off. “It’s that I don’t care,” I say. “When people suffer? I don’t care, in the slightest. I have no empathy for them. I feel nothing. Oh, I can imagine that it must suck for them, but I don’t care. I fix things, selfishly, cuz whining annoys me. I choose to help my friends because it’s the right thing to do.”

That knowledge still sucks to have. “I don’t care for them at all,” I tell her. “I just choose to act in all the ways that seem like I care. I heal them, I fight for them, I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt them. I choose to trust them, but I know all my affection is paper thin. And the worst part?”

“They know, too.”

I take a deep breath, then repeat it. “They know, too.” I smile. “Isn’t that silly? These people, Inu, Thatch, Opal and Sylves, each one so amazingly precious. And they choose to stick around me, despite knowing that I wouldn’t cry if they died. Tragic.”

The ant queen looks at me, and chitters. I cannot quite place the noise, this time, some emotion that doesn’t really make sense. “My species doesn’t have tear ducts,” she replies. 

It’s so ridiculous that it makes me snort a laugh. “Right, right. You can’t cry, either, huh?”

Meg sighs softly. “No,” she says. “I cannot.” And then, she smiles. “But that’s fine. I think showing care is what matters most. You may not feel it in the same way as most, but your actions show care. Your actions are kind.” She smiles. “You’ve thought about killing me, too, and not done it.”

Ah. Caught me. I give an awkward smile. “... Oops?” 

She smiles in reply. “No trouble. I thought of killing you, too, after all.” 

Amusingly, I don’t even begrudge her that. The talk of murder, somehow, lightens the dreary mood, and we look forward. I’m glad I brought it up, even if her words don’t change my feelings. It sucks to be like this sometimes, but… oh well! I’ll live. And knowing myself is still important. 

Heh. Maybe if I know myself well enough I’ll get [Introspection] or something. Actually… that would be kinda awesome to see more of what is going on inside my body. Good thinking, Snow! 

We halt in front of a solid wall of stone. I look at it, the stop interrupting my silly train of thought. I take a deep breath. The ants thinking of killing us isn’t surprising. Our alliance is, at the end of the day, one born out of convenience. Yet, when I look at Meg, I think that by now, perhaps, she trusts us more. 

Why, I wonder. I’m still using them as a tool, just to get to Philia, the paladin. But that’s okay, the ants are using us, too. Perhaps, if we’re friends, I shouldn’t track favours like this. A small smile spreads on my lips. 

“It appears this is a dead end,” I tell the queen.

She smiles, ever so faintly, mimicking my expression, then taps the wall. “This, dear Snow, is a hidden wall.”

That’s awesome. I love hidden walls. So sneaky. “Very cool,” I say, as she taps her claw against it, and the stone door rotates. It opens into a room of ants, chittering, crawling all about, entering and leaving via a half dozen tunnels. All over the room there are a few ants, each one injured, most being tended to.

My target isn’t hard to pick out. 

A massive ant, thrice the size of the regular ones, lays in the middle of the room, a deep rent in its carapace, leaking ichor and venom. I look at the queen as the ants turn to stare at me.

She waits for a moment. “That is our hive’s strongest warrior and my first child, Elis,” Meg says. “Please, Snow. Save her.”