Magic Breaker [Enby MC Anti-Mage LitRPG]

/The fourth floor is the Graveyard. 

That’s its job, metaphorically and physically. Dead climbers end up there. Corpses have a way of ending up there, and some think the tower keeps record of every single climber who’s ever died in it. 

I say that’s crud. But there is some truth to it.

If you die on the fourth floor, it spawns a gravestone with your name, and brings your rotting corpse back out to haunt the living. This means that in addition to the normal undead, who’ve long forgotten who they used to be, we get people who know how to cast some magic, or with physical skills.

It’s the graveyard, because the fifth floor is the end of where most people can go. It’s where reckless idiots go to die, and when they do, their bodies get thrown down here. They get consumed by the rot that plagues this place, and they rise again.

So, climbers. If you’re on the fourth, find a city fast. Ascension wells always drop you near cities, because water goes bad fast, and food is scarce here. Find some walls. Sell the corpse-prizes. Grow until you earn your authority. 

And then climb higher./

-Windwrought, level 85 Galebringer, entry in the Climber’s Compendium.

- - -

[Congratulations!]

[You have made it to the fourth floor! For your performance in the ascendancy well, you have acquired 2 minor requests.]

[Ascension Quest: Proof of Will. Cross the fourth threshold.]

There is a city not too far into the distance. That is the one upside to this floor. 

The downside is that it’s crawling with undead.

“So much material,” Amelie hums quietly, and I glance at her. The girl is sitting peacefully in her wheelchair, being pushed by some plant-metal amalgamation, and her hands dance through the air, strings spreading out.

Most of the zombies are somewhat weak. That’s by comparison, of course. They still move faster than mundane humans, sprinting at us. They also come in all shapes and sizes. Zoof with matted fur, scithians with rotting gem wings, even a species that logs as “feryran”, which are made from metal.

Those are the most troublesome, because as they move, they’re loud. Their metal joints have rusted, and the plates that cover their skin often scream as they move, attracting yet more zombies towards us. They shamble and sprint, and get caught in Amelie’s strings. 

Our weaver, for her part, has gotten rather scary. Her class was already close to a necromancer, with her puppets, but now that she’s on a floor like this… The smile doesn’t vanish from her face. Even though it smells terrible, she just keeps producing more threads from her fingers, ensnaring some of the zombies she deems more “interesting” and having her existing puppets drag them.

Bile eyes her wish suspicion, the minotaur seeming almost afraid of her peaceful expression through it all. Norman is panting next to me, exhausted from his overuse of [Unassuming] to mostly keep the horde off us. Occasionally, Opal [Blinks] away to slice up some of them, and even more rarely, Thatch strides out there and fights.

They’re all noisy about it. Not at all like Richard and me. The hiy’ht walks next to me quietly, her small form making little noise. Her face is creased up in disgust at the smell, but she doesn’t voice her complaints. If anything, she just shivers from the cold. I glance at my shadow for a moment, and Kuro slinks away from me, wrapping around her as a thick cloak.

Richard’s eyes widen for a moment, then she looks at me. “... Thank you?” she asks, questioningly.

“No problem,” I reply, and her lips curl into a smile, chelicerae vibrating slightly. She seems pleased, which is good. 

“I am gonna throw myself into bed as soon as we get to the city,” Norman grouches, trudging across the ground. It’s soft and spongy, almost too soft, making us sink slightly and making the walk more exhausting than it needs to be. He’s got higher physical stats than me, though, so I know he’s just whining. 

For my own part, while we walk, I have mana to spare. With my attunement loop back in place, it’s placated inside my vessel. There’s a constant struggle between my skill and my mana, to the point where I can feel it writhe, bubble away under the [Suppression]. But it stays calm. 

With more willpower, I draw some of it out and thread it into my improved mana maze, and with even more of my mind, I begin to etch some enchantments. Imbuer is just a little bit off from giving me another essence infusion, which I sorely need. I’ve already grown a lot better at doing quick enchantments, but I want to make some healing items. For my party, of course, and also because they would sell really well.

As always, there is plenty for me to work on before we make it to the city, and so, work on it I do.

- - -

When we get within closer range of the gate, close enough that Thatch can see the guards, I ask Richard for my cloak back. Kuro quickly wraps around me, hiding my missing arm, the stump that’s slowly regrowing from my shoulder, and covering my face in a hood and cowl. It makes me look like a suspicious rogue, but at the same time, wearing things that so completely hide my silhouette is fun.

It helps that Kuro has gotten rather soft. 

While Thatch handles the guards and talks to them, I focus on my mana senses. There’s a faint haze around the guards, power that passively pours off them. 

I tilt my head faintly, looking closer. [Observation] kicks in properly, creating a thin field-

Someone reaches for my shoulder, and Opal catches their hand. “Sorry,” they say for me, “my friend’s not big on touch.”

The guard, a zoof, clicks her tongue. “Tell your friend to keep their skills to themselves. Staring is rude, especially on upper floors. How new are you?”

Do they not know about humans here? Maybe they’re confused about when our integration happened? “For about two months,” Thatch lies with a polite, apologetic smile. Handsome bastard. “We’re not yet used to all the rules.”

“Yeah, Green Sea isn’t exactly good for learnin’, either,” the guard sighs. “The rundown is, keep your senses to yourself. Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t ask too many questions. Pay fairly. And, for a final piece of advice: even though it’s pricey, get the compendium. Read it.”

I blink, then slowly nod. “Thanks,” I say.

With another sigh and a wave, we’re let into the city.

It’s more fortress than town, built to last. The air on this floor is full of rot, even more so than anywhere else. I can feel the density of mana in the air, tingling, burning against the mana coating my skin. It’s thicker here than on the other floors, so things degrade from that, too.

Which means materials need to be tougher. Much of the architecture is made from bone. Pale white structures, towering high. The walls have no gaps, fused together by what I guess is people with transmutation abilities, and there are multiple summoners or other minion-based classes on the walls, defending them against the horde of zombies.

The floor had a lot of infrastructure for those kindsa classers, in fact. There were little stable-sheds near most inns for minions to be stores, so I handed over some of the chits we had to rent one of those. After a little while, we had a room. We’d made it to the fourth floor.

I sat down on my bed, and let it run through my head again. We’d made it to the fourth floor. It wasn’t safe yet, not at all, but we were harder to track, here. Ascension Wells were scattered, after all. They’d need to find our city, then us in that city. We could lay low and bide our time…

Or grow as fast as we could. A thin smile wore itself into my face, as I looked at Opal and Thatch, my two friends. Bile was rooming with Norman, and Richard with Amelie. I take a deep breath. “We’re missing Sylphes and Inu,” I note, and both of them nod. Of course, we’re missing more than that, but they know what I mean.

“Let’s be real: is Sylves coming up?” I ask. It’s so very close to a rhetoric question.

Opal barks out a laugh and leans back in their chair, crossing their arms behind their head, and their legs over one another. “No fricken way.”

Smiling softly, Thatch gently shakes his head. “Yeah, no shot.”

“Thought so,” I nod. “She’s at home on the third. In fact, I’d wager she’s making life hell for the people down there. Maybe even messing with the pursuers.”

With a snicker, Thatch nods. “She would mess with them. Lead them around in circles. If we’re lucky, she’ll split their group.”

“Unlikely,” Opal shrugs, then grins. “But we can hope. What about Inu?”

“She’ll find us,” I say, rather sure of myself. “Knowing her, she’s with Bay, Jess, and Dar. They’ve got better tracking abilities. Especially with [Empathy].”

“Hmmmm,” Thatch hums. “You’re probably right. They’ll make their way up.”

I nod. “So, what do we need to prepare for them?” 

For the first time Opal leans forward, putting both of their hands on the table. Their grin is almost feral at this point. “Power,” they say. “Sylves will buy us time. We need to prepare. Not just ourselves… but a battlefield.”

“Flamando is on this floor, too,” Thatch says, shuddering slightly. “I can tell.”

“How?” I ask.

“Epitaph,” he says. “The closer someone I’m angry at, the faster I heal and the harder I hit. I can feel a small tether to him, because of the- well, y’know.”

I nod slowly, not pushing him any further as he looks down on the table, clenching his fists. His hair falls in front of his eyes covering them, and Opal squeezes his shoulder. I think it over for a few moments, then nod. “We need Flamando to fight Ezekiel.”

“Won’t they work together?” Opal asks.

For a second, I almost laugh. Then, I touch a hand to the mark on the side of my face, where my skin is raw and burnt over my bones. “Hey, Flametouched,” I say. The Eyes know where we are, anyway, but with Flamando’s recent fuck-up, I’d wager the tower won’t let it tell him. “Will you work with Lurelia to kill me? Do you need her help? Are you so pathetic you can’t burn one person down?”

[The Flametouched rages a wildfire. It will claim your skins, your bones, your friends to ash. No one else may touch you.]

I smile gently, then read the message out to my friends. Opal bursts into laughter, and even Thatch snickers at it. “Arrogant,” Opal says, brightly. “So arrogant!”

“We’ll prepare,” I say quietly. “We’ll prepare, and then we’ll show them. Tell Bile to come here. I need him to dig.”

Opal hops up, stretching their neck. “I’ll get him,” they say, then they disappear. 

Patting the dust off his pants, Thatch rises, too. “I’ll go scout with Norman. He needs more levels in [Unassuming]. I think this floor will be good for my new skill,” he says, then squeezes his fist and smiles. He’s so composed, but I can feel the anger roll off him in waves as he walks out of my room.

And then there’s me. I [Suppress] myself. I press my mana so close against my skin, stop it from leaking from my vessel, and build it. Slowly, I draw a deep breath, and turn to my archive.

[Memorization 5 > 6]

Let’s see what I can figure out about their skills. I need to be prepared, after all.

Prepared to crush them.