Magic Breaker [Enby MC Anti-Mage LitRPG]

[You have killed a lv. 62 Mindbreaker.]

[Level Up! 42 > 48]

[Class up! Nullmage 15 > 16]

I breathe, as the spell around my mind shatters. The world dulls. I drop the [Suppression] on myself, and freedom ripples through me.

“Whoowee!” Opal says, grinning. “That was fucking badass, you two!” they cheer.

Inu looks at me with a weak, pitiful smile. She doesn’t look at the corpse, as if she’s already forgotten. “You did good, Snow.”

Smiling at her, I nod. “Thanks,” I say. Then, I do some introspection. I check for where my emotions are supposed to be.

Nothing.

It feels like I’ve been robbed. There was something so beautiful about truly feeling for once. Truly hating someone, truly liking someone. And now, it’s all gone, broken like the falsehood it was.

An ugly truth, but one I live with. My decisions are absolute. My feelings are okay to have. I breathe, closing my eyes. 

“You… okay?” Inu warrants.

“No,” I reply, smiling. “No, I’m not. In fact… Thatch, please get the cages open. Opal, could you get me my headphones? And Sylves, please fly me out of here. I don’t wanna walk.”

With my eyes closed, I don’t see their replies, but I know what they’d say. There’s a noise of fists on steel, and the metal shatters. Opal’s free. 

There’s a pop as they vanish, and then they bring me those beautiful bits of metal. “Good news,” they announce. “Bay finally levelled enough to have the control to charge them. They’re about halfway full right now.”

Somehow, that, more than anything else, breaks the spell. The apathy cracks. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek. “Thanks, Opal,” I say, my voice calm and stable. I place the headphones over my head, and turn them on.

The noise cancelling activates. The sounds of misery fade. I can’t see. I can’t hear. The wind gathers beneath me, and most sensation fades away. 

I untether from my sensations. I let the apathy inside me drift and ebb. It’ll recede, it’ll crawl back into its hole, and that’s okay. For a little while, I’m a monster, and that’s okay, too. I forgive myself for the crime of killing someone I held dear. I forgive myself for suppressing my own hate. I forgive it, and let myself exist. 

Give myself permission to feel and heal. I let myself drift, close my eyes, and fall into a half-trance.

Time drifts by, as I simply float and think, in blissful silence.

- - -

Eventually, the feelings ebb. It takes a while, a long while, and I feel myself placed on my soft bed. No one touches me. No one tries to speak to me. 

I smile, softly. That’s why they’re my friends.

And, eventually, when the time comes that I feel like a person again, I open my eyes. I gently reach up to my head, then hesitate. I leave the headphones on. The world can remain silent for a little while longer. Instead, I simply reinstate my attunement loop, suppressing my mana inside my vessel, stopping it from trying to burst out of my chest. 

There was a whisper at the edge of my mind. I take a deep breath, and call up the menu.

[Epitaph: Abiding Apathy (Vessel)

Empty, dull, the need to take,

From broken bits you then remake.

A decision made, an oath opaque,

Your choice stands tall, your heart won’t break.]

I breathe. My hand rises to my chest. I feel my heart thump beneath it. Unbroken. 

I breathe.

In, then out. 

A thin, fragile smile spreads on my lips. The epitaph is good. I like it. 

Yes. I make my decisions. My oath is opaque. I will be honest with people, and with myself, about my choices. And when I uphold them, I won’t regret it. 

No regrets. No looking back. 

I breathe, raise my eyes, and look forward. The smile on my face solidifies. I decide to move forward, and so I do it. 

Gently discarding all the misery, I return my focus to the present. To the knowledge that epitaphs, apparently, can be deepened. Or, etched, the tower called it. 

My other actions offered me a new epitaph, but this time, it was seen as an extension of my apathy. It makes me curious when I’ll pick ones for the other stats, and whether they can change, too. Clearly, they’re supposed to describe our actions, somewhat. To be reflections of what we do.

This one suits me even better now. It was accurate before, but I accept the new addition. Slowly, I rise from my bed, burning half my vessel on healing the various cuts and bruises on my body more properly.

Everything aches.

Now that I’ve spent an hour or three in my bed, I can feel it. The stab wounds in my legs, where I did a half hearted healing job. I feel at them, using the trace patterns that I stole from the unmaker’s magic, and see them in a slightly different light.

[Observation 8 > 9]

It lets me see my flesh in an entirely different light. The fibres all look so malleable, like bundled pieces of string, all pulling the same way. My veins as webbing, my tendons as support structures. The change in perspective is as enlightening as it is disorienting.

Somehow, the broken skill holds a hint to bridge [Deconstruction] and my healing. It’s giving me insight into anatomy as I break it apart with that toolbox, whether I’m using a scalpel or a drill to carve through flesh and bone. I feel like it’ll help me grow my skills faster, so I make sure to weave it tightly into my mind.

And then, I pause.

I look at my epitaph. The threads of [Selection] that connect me to my friends. To the people I’ve decided to be kind to.

Those, too, I write down in my mind.

My decisions stand tall. My oaths are opaque. I will upkeep them. I will never forget them. So, I must remember them. I must.

And that emotional desire finally catalyzes the skill.

[New Skill acquired!]

[Memorization 0 > 1]

A small snicker escapes my lips as I look at the name. “Theme still going strong,” I note, shaking my head. But as the skill settles, I feel the essence trickle in.

[Job up! Imbuer 7 > 10]

It comes from the threshold my job crosses, and is less related to enchantment than it is to the decryption of skill patterns. I instantly understand why my new skill levelled the class. Imbuer relies on understanding skills and how to decode them.

[Memorization] acts as a mental library for every skill pattern I’ve ever broken.

I smile, softly.

Now that I can keep them in mind, I guess I’ll just have to keep breaking more magic.

Just you wait, self-repairing, self-cleaning clothing. You will be mine.