Chapter 6
Robert looked at Hamish, his body surging with vitality, loose yet powerful. He had an expression like he climbed a tall mountain and found piles of gold at the top. His chest swelled with an inner fire he hadn't felt in years. "I'm good, Hamish. Swear to God. Haven't felt this alive in years!" His voice rasped but carried clear.
Hamish exhaled, shoulders relaxing. "Aye, alright then. I'm just gonna patch my face over here. Rock I chucked at that bloody shield, bounced back and smashed me in the cheek." He flashed a wry grin, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes that Robert hadn't checked on him. Hamish muttered something, stomped to the camp, and grabbed a first-aid kit to clean the gash on his cheek.
Mist cloaked the Highlands at dawn, heavy and unmoving. Robert sat cross-legged by the chest that had changed everything, hands on his knees. Golden lines traced his skin where Moira's magic had consumed the old man's charm crystal, glowing faintly in the dim light. The air pressed close, waiting.
Moira's voice echoed in his mind, calm but firm. "We've got work to do, Robert. No spells yet. We need to talk first."
Robert scanned the mist, half-expecting her to step out. "Talk? Thought you'd just point me at the next thing."
Her laugh sliced through, quick and sharp. "I'm not your boss, lad. This is your gig. Magic's yours as much as mine now. Your decisions set the process for everyone who comes after. So, what's magic gonna look like?"
Robert stiffened, caught off guard. "You're asking me? I don't know jack about this stuff."
Moira's tone held steady, pushing him. "Keep it basic, yeah? Should people get magic for free, or work their arse off for it?"
Robert paced, boots scuffing damp earth. Free magic seemed fair, like handing out tools. But a fool could misuse it, burn a village, or worse. Digging took years to master, earning respect for what you found. Magic needed that weight. "It's gotta be earned. Magic's big. People need to grow into it, respect it. Like learning to paint, or work clay."
Moira's voice warmed, like she nodded. "Smart. Work builds respect. What about progress? Should people see their gains, or stumble blind?"
Robert answered fast. "Show 'em. They need to know what they're improving, where they're headed. But don't lock 'em in. Let 'em pick paths that fit, make it fun, like they're writing their own story."
Moira sounded pleased. "You're sharp, Robert. Growth they control. And spells? How do they change?"
Robert nodded, ideas taking shape. "Spells should get better the more you use 'em. Master one, and you can twist it into something that's all you."
Her voice softened, heavy with meaning. "Spot on. Magic's gotta be personal, tied to the one wielding it."
Robert grinned, pieces falling into place. "Yeah, that's it. Magic should feel like it's part of you, not some random trick." Doubt stirred. "Moira, can I tweak this system later? What if I screw it up?"
Moira stayed firm. "You're the one shaping it, Robert. Magic bends to you. Change it as you learn. It's not about hard rules unless you want 'em. It's what you can dream up."
Robert's chest eased. "Good. I'll probably mess with it a lot. So, let's get started."
Moira said, "Shut your eyes."
Robert closed his eyes, bracing for nothing. His head spun, the world folding inward. A web of glowing arcane symbols pulsed in the darkness, alive and tethered to his mind. The interface felt like his own, ready to shape.
Moira's voice held a hopeful spark. "This work?"
Robert's jaw dropped, eyes tracing the glowing paths of spells and skills. A message shimmered in his vision: System Designer Gift: Moira grants you influence over magic's foundation. Shape spells, skills, rules to fit your vision. Her favor boosts your growth. His breath hitched. "This is mental, Moira. Me? Setting up magic for the whole damn world? I dig up old junk, not this. Why's it gotta be me?"
Moira remained calm, unyielding. "You're not stuck, Robert. You're picked. You'll make magic fit this world, for everyone. I'll steer you, but it's your show."
Robert swallowed, unease fading into resolve. "Alright. Let's keep going."
Moira's tone brightened. "We can make it easy. The interface shifts, shows just what people need—spells, skills, progress. It updates as they learn, so they don't get lost."
Robert nodded. "Perfect. Don't want 'em drowning in this thing."
Moira turned instructive. "Now, your first spell. Thorn. Your magic's in the earth, your blood. Picture the ground, not just dirt, but alive and strong."
Robert shut his eyes, breathing slowly, envisioning the Highlands' ancient soil. Energy surged into his chest, warm and steady. His arm throbbed, sharp pain building like it might burst. He clenched his fist, trying to will the magic out. Instead, a few pebbles dribbled from his fingers and hit the dirt with sad little plops.
Hamish, strolling up from the camp, stared wide-eyed. "What the actual hell was that?" His voice was blunt, like Robert had tripped in front of a crowd.
Robert chuckled, wiping dirt from his lips. "First try at a spell, mate. Didn't exactly nail it."
Hamish snorted, grinning wide. "That was stupid. Better check your underpants too." He shook his head, chuckling like Robert was the camp fool.
Robert sighed. "Yeah? Let's see you try." He shut his eyes, ready to try again.
Moira cut in, her voice steady again. "Good. Don't listen to him. Push that energy through your chest, down your arm, out your hand. Make it sharp, a thorn, straight from the earth. Magic needs purpose, or it'll fizzle or take any random shape."
Robert moved his hand slowly, fingers curling tight. A hot spark shot through his knuckles, sharp and real. He grunted, and a stone thorn formed in the air, gleaming like wet granite. His arm tingled, magic itching under his skin. The thorn hovered, then burst into light. Hamish, perched on a nearby rock, rubbed his eyes. "I saw it. I know I saw that. But there's no way. No bloody way I just saw that."
Robert smirked, vindicated. "You'd better believe it."
Moira sounded proud. "Not half bad. Now use it."
She pointed at a boulder. "Picture the thorn smashing it clean. Magic's all about what you want."
Robert breathed deep and raised his hand. The thorn formed fast, sharper now. He flicked his wrist, and it slammed the boulder, cracking a chunk off before fading. A message glowed in his vision: You have manifested the spell Thorn. Its strength grows with mastery.
Robert rubbed his sore arm, excitement flaring in his chest. "Heh."
Hamish whistled slowly. "If I didn't just watch that, I'd say someone shot that boulder with a rifle." He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, grappling with the sight. "This is just impossible, Robert. How is this possible?"
Robert nodded, solemn. "I know how you feel. There has to be a scientific explanation for this, or we're both just sharing hallucinations."
Moira giggled. "Heh, scientific explanations. My goodness, those can get so tedious. Is he still around? Science? Never mind that, another time. Because guess what? It's time for your first quest!" Her voice turned devious.
A message flickered: New Quest: Strengthen 'Thorn' through practice until it beats its current limits. Reward: A portal scroll to your first magical dungeon.
Robert raised an eyebrow. "Portal scroll?"
Moira's tone sparkled with mischief. "Check your interface. Thorn's ranked at order one. Bottom rung. You'll have to push it harder to climb."
Robert rolled up his sleeves, ready to dive in. "Right, Moira. Let's do this."