The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

The creature sitting in the parlor was darker-skinned than the average of the kingdom. It wasn't easy to tell from his seated position, but the mage seemed shorter than usual as well. Despite the shorter height and darker coloring, he spoke the language with a noble accent and perfect diction.

To my surprise, into the growing silence, Snowy produced a gigantic yawn.

"Excuse me, it has been a long day, and I have a challenge tomorrow. Goodnight," she said, the tension she had been holding since entering the house now absent. Her change in demeanor was abrupt, but not nearly as much as the Baron when he smiled to the thing sitting in the large leather stuffed chair.

"Good evening. My home is, of course, your home. If you require anything, simply ask Marcus to provide," the Baron said before he turned to me. He tipped his head slightly, then said, "Joshua," and casually strolled past me.

I was frozen in place, staring at the creature masquerading as a man, watching the magic flowing in a wave through him. At the same time, he simply waited for my reaction.

The tableau was broken by Marcus, asking if we would like anything before he retired for the night.

"No, that will be all Marcus, thank you," the undead Mage said, his smile and voice well-practiced and cultured but without a hint of warmth or emotion.

Slowly I slipped into a chair facing the Mage. I had watched his magic while he controlled and commanded the Baron and Marcus. I hadn't noticed a flicker of change in the creature's magic. I knew it was using a Skill, but it was so advanced, so subtle, that even staring directly at it, I felt nothing. I noticed nothing. It was merely a swirling mass of magic, always churning the river of mana.

Leaning forward, the Mage clasped his hands together.

"Now that we won't be interrupted, I would like to tell you a story and offer you a deal," he said.

I couldn't remain silent. I was holding myself like a coiled spring, ready to snap despite the pseudo-calm as I held my pose in my chair.

"Couldn't you just force me to do what you want?" I asked.

Smiling slightly at my question, the Mage leaned back again, his studied pose dropping away.

"Yes, but that would defeat the point," he said.

There was a silence as I stared at the mage, the knowledge that there was nothing I could do against the force of nature sitting across from me pressing down upon me. I knew that Snowy had a mental resistance Skill. I had helped Abby teach her the Skill. I would never be so crass as to ask the Baron about his Skills. I was still confident that the Baron had a mental resistance Skill as well - it would be challenging to deal with the nobility without one. Despite their Skills, this creature had mastered them without effort. If he wanted, I would dance to his tune. I had only two hopes: that his control was short-lived or that he had no interest in controlling me.

Trusting in this creature's kindness was not a comforting thought.

"I have gone by many names over the centuries, but lately, I am known as Rang Yu. I picked up the name from a delightful country in the far south," he said, a small smile forming on his face as he mentioned the near-legendary lands of the far south.

I held back a flinch when he mentioned living centuries. I knew that he was old, his power spoke to that, but the way he spoke of time conveyed that he thought of centuries in the way I would of days. How long would it take before someone would adopt such a viewpoint?

"Now. Many hundreds of thousands of years ago, the world was very different. There were no Skills, no Skill lists, no dwarves, no goblins, and the dead did not rise. They simply rotted," he said while gently gesturing.

Rang Yu seemed ready for me to interrupt him. When I simply listened, silently thinking about how different such a world would be, he continued.

"A young man, born far from the shores of this land, was hunting one day deep in the mountains of his homeland when he came upon a place where the thin mana of the time collected. This confluence of mana was minor by our current standards. It was a collection of magic barely stronger than what we could experience even in this mansion's garden. Finding that the place was soothing to his mind, he decided to create a refuge in his hidden grotto. I now believe that was the most powerful confluence of mana in all of the world at the time."

Frowning for a second, he turned to stare out into the darkness, his face carefully blanking itself before he looked back to me.

"His village was destroyed, and he was left with no one," he said, his voice making it clear that he had no interest in expanding upon this portion of his story.

Turning back to the darkness, his voice drifted out calmly, the sound lulling me until I was lost in the story.

"The next twenty years of his life was spent without company. He became a hermit, hiding away from the world in his grotto. This would have been the end of the story if the man had not been a hunter. His training included methods of focus, ways to hold still for hours, techniques for concentration. As you may imagine, he stumbled upon the ways of magic. It wasn't like it is now. There were no Skills. It was more free form, more…dynamic."

I tried to imagine a world like he described, a world without Skills and without the danger of the undead.

He shifted in his seat, the sound of the cushion an odd interruption to his story.

"As the years flowed by, he learned, and his power grew. Eventually, he discovered the source of mana."

He now had my entire focus. I hadn't planned it, but I found myself eagerly leaning toward the man I could no longer see purely as a creature.

"What is the source of mana?" I asked.

"Souls," he said, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes latched onto my own.

"Souls?" I asked, falling back into my seat in confusion.

"I don't mean that souls generate mana, or filter it from the world. No. Mana is the remnant of souls, ground down to nothing. Souls destroyed and spread across the world," he said with the voice of a man who was delivering a death sentence.

Nodding at my confusion, he explained.

"Mana changes and improves everything it touches. It enhances everything. This is the danger. Monsters were once normal animals made dangerous from mana. Goblins, orcs, fauns, and trolls; were once animals modified by mana to be semi-sentient. Dwarves and many others were once humans. Year after year, mana has modified them to adapt to their environment. Their very humanity is twisted by mana. Mana is now so prevalent that even corpses are animated by the shattered remains of souls floating through the Akashic."

The scope of what he was describing was slowly starting to form in my mind.

"Every culture has shown such minor changes, shifts that depend on their usage of mana. The Northmen grow taller, stronger, and the tribes to the furthest north show a slight undertone of blue to their skin. In a few tens of centuries, they will be a new species like the Dwarves. Worse, the Akashic has changed with the formation of amalgamations of broken souls, Skills, and memories developing into a form of life that survives within the mana field. The Ancestor of the Northmen is one such creature."

With far more passion than he had shown before, he said, "Use mana in the same way over the years, and it impresses itself into the Akashic - the background field of magic. Each Skill earned becomes a part of the sea of destroyed souls surrounding us. Every Skill comes with growth in the soul. Magic is never destroyed. Each soul adds to the Akashic. As mana saturates the world, everything becomes stronger. Deadlier. Even now, the Akashic presses itself upon the material world. Every birth is another drop in the sea of magic. A slowly rising tide of magic that will eventually drown everything."

Here he stopped, waiting for me to respond to his claims, perhaps to deny it. I couldn't. His explanation matched what I knew of the world and further explained things I had never understood. I couldn't deny his assertions. He could be wrong, but what he claimed at least seemed possible. If true, it would be a remote - but severe - danger.

"So you think you can stop the growth of mana?" I asked with a snort of disbelief. He might as well try to stop the sun by shouting at the horizon.

With a frown, he shook his head before answering my question, "Not at all. I formed the Mage Guild and similar groups across the world simply to slow the rising tide. I've long assumed that my task is doomed."

"That's insane!" I nearly shouted, my voice rising enough that I was worried I would wake the rest of the house.

"The plan was to concentrate magic in a few hands. Hoping that they would find a solution to mana poisoning our world. It has been a success in slowing the growth of mana. One example is that they found a way to empower the harvest's growth with the burning of corpses. This hasn't solved the problem, but it has forced mana into constantly cycling instead of pooling in the world and birthing Mages at every turn. It has limited the damage, the chaos, and has bought us centuries. But it only delayed the inevitable."

Again, he sighed, the sound of an exhausted soul.

"No matter my efforts, every institution devolves into infighting and the personal grasping for wealth and power. The Mages have become far more interested in control than solving the problem of mana. They spy and monitor the rise of Skills, killing those who grow dangerously. Still, they are short-sighted, even with their limited form of immortality. They see a few tens of thousands of years as an eternity. I assure you, it is not."

Rising from my chair, I stopped at the corner liqueur cabinet and poured myself a stiff drink. Ignoring the silently watching creature, I swallowed a large gulp of hard spirits and let its burn clear my mind.

Pouring a second glass, I returned to my seat.

"So, what's the deal?" I asked, forcing the revelations of the night from my mind. I would have time to consider them later if I survived the night.

"You have grown dangerously. You discovered a new way of becoming a Mage. The Guild's method requires a focus based Skill and an artificial area of concentrated mana. Then, you passed this route to Magehood to a group that will make use of this technique," shaking his head at my apparent audacity, he smiled. This was the first of his few smiles that reached his eyes.

"Honestly, I'm impressed. I have been waiting for someone talented with magic, someone who can think differently. The Mage Guild has slowed the creep of mana, but they will never discover a solution. The same pattern has repeated with every organization I've created throughout the world."

Suddenly, he slapped his hand down on the tea table in front of himself.

"No more! A different approach is necessary, even if it whittles away the remaining millenniums. If you agree, I will allow the Skill Trainers to expand. To begin to train others. I will provide you with what I know of magic, new and old, and how it can be used. Perhaps, with enough people knowing of the dangers, someone will discover a solution. I have lost all hope, but any chance is better than none."

Sipping at my drink, I stared at the glass. I was afraid to ask, but I had to know.

"And if I refuse?"

With a small shrug, he smiled, but the look was far from a happy one.

"I will remove your discovery from your mind and everyone who has learned it. I will strip the new Skills from your soul. You will experience a period of Skill growth after, but you will not know how or why. I will simply wait for the next naturally developing mage for my plan. A few centuries lost mean little in the larger scheme of things. Despite the danger that type of thinking represents."

Again, I gulped my spirits, knowing that I would accept the deal since the alternative would tear my soul apart even if he left it whole. If I took his deal, I would be supported in doing what I had already planned to do. Having his support would be a boon.

"Of course, I can't be sure that you or the Skill Trainers should be the ones to lead this effort. I have met many who have learned magic by themselves, even if not in such a unique way. Your real value to me is your ability to learn and teach."

Holding up one hand, he said, "The Ancestors have maneuvered elements of the kingdom. They have narrowed the future into two major paths, and both serve their goals. In one, Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat consolidates the North. They descend upon the kingdom as it falls in the coming rebellion. They spread the path of the Shamans as the only true way to magic. The Ancestor will grow as they absorb each new Shaman and become more with each passing year. Each time they absorb a new Shaman, they consume a massive amount of ambient mana to fuse the new part into the whole. This is one solution to the problem of mana, though it leaves power in the hands of an inhuman creature disconnected from humanity," he said, seeming to miss the irony of his words.

Without a change of expression, he held up his other hand. "In the other future, your Snowy inherits and forms trade and cultural exchanges with the North. The Ancestors pull strings to calm the rebellion for a generation or two. Slowly, the Ancestor's worship grows within the kingdom, and more commoners become Shamans as a way to grasp the power denied to them. Either way, the Ancestor wins. At least, they would if I was not here to stop them. Again."

Standing, he shrugged his shoulder and straightened his overcoat before he walked toward the door. Stopping at the doorway of the parlor, he said one thing before he left.

"Obviously, I would like your Snowy to survive. It would be less work for me. If your training has failed to shift the future, she will die as the Ancestor originally expected. Then I will wipe your memory."