The next day, Norman hands me a little ring he found. It has a few runes inscribed on it, probably made by the tower as a reward - it has that quality to it that makes it look like no one with actual hands made it.

  But the runes are perfectly functional, warming enchantments. So, until captain Malcolm shows up, I inspect them. Eventually, when the grumpy old man appears, Norman extends [Unassuming] to the item, and I [Suppress] it’s presence, cloaking any mana usage.

  Once again, we get chewed out a bit, but I simply bear with it. We’re new, after all. It’s only natural we get suspected. There are a few people who send us annoyed glances, and an older scithian with amber wings bumps into me. He gives me a glare, and his mana flares for a moment, sending needles across my skin. I wanna kill him, but I don’t. And, to be fair, we did steal the items. If only people learned not to pester me so much.

  But that’s fine. In the end, the captain grumbles and walks off. I vent a bit of steam in the night, tearing into the fogfae more viciously than usual, and getting a new level for my troubles.

  [Level Up! 31 > 32]

  All three of my points go into my vessel. It’s also grown naturally a bit, by one point. Apparently, absorbing spells with my epitaph has a chance to grow it. How curious.

  The game of dispelling I started with Jess has become more common. The others are also starting minor little contests with each other. Inu and Thatch pit [Reservoir] and [Rage] against each other. Opal tries to [Blink] away before Amelie can catch them with [Puppeteer]. Norman hides and Thatch seeks.

  There are tons of little games to help build our skills. As I enchant more, I tinker with the way I solidify mana, changing my stylus to be more sturdy and easier to hold together, which improves my [Solidification], not enough to get a level, yet. But I do use [Selection] to create a connection between my enchanting tool and the enchantments, helping me make the runes more accurate.

  [Selection 10 > 11]

  I also do a lot of experimentation on my arm. It’s something I take care not to do around the others, cause it wouldn’t be fun for them to see me slice it open each time to test the regeneration out, but I still do it. I try different applications of my healing skill, testing pattern after pattern after pattern.

  Slowly, I’m developing it, but it’s taking time. My arm is still a stump, though I managed to reduce the scarring a bit, which has been nice. The phantom pain sucks, and I still catch myself trying to move it sometimes, before reminding myself that it’s gone, but that’s okay. Each time I see Sylves feed another meal to someone who annoyed me, each time another thread of mana reaches out from [Hospitality], logging a connection that she wants to leverage to keep my peace, I remember why I did it.

  And so, days pass.

  - - -

  Sleet drizzles against the top of the tent. It’s gotten colder again, frost gathering on the wooden boards, the ice barely kept at bay by Jess’ flames. Bay has been hard at work reinforcing the tent to make it more comfortable, working with Sylves and Amelie to thicken the fabric, and insulate it.

  I’m currently working on one of those pieces, trying to weave heat retention runes into fabric. It’s good practice for the cloak I’m working on for Norman. Putting enchantments onto fabric is a strange experience, where it’s half moving the threads around, and half weaving the mana pathways into it?

  The sensation is hard to describe, but in essence, I use my solidified mana to create gaps in the dense weave of the fabric; rather than carving, I simply move things out of the way with mana-based thread, then let it dissipate.

  It’s still awkward and crude, and I prefer the solidity of simply carving runes into metal, but, well. An enchanted cloak with tiny inscriptions woven into it sure is more inconspicuous than if I were to carve glowing runes into Inu’s armor.

  Plus… making things more sturdy is something Bay is already developing a skill for. I want more versatility than that. So I tap into the essence of my class, feeling the trickle of it that comes whenever I make a small jump in understanding, and slowly improving my methods by practicing.

  For this kind of fabric-work I really do notice the essence from the lake work in my favour, though. It feels like I could almost weave moonlight into the enchantments, but I don’t. Instead I tap more into the weaving part, and coax the secrets of fabric enchanting out of the tower one by one.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I also spend a minor request on an expansion of my rune booklet, focusing on fabric work. This leaves me with two minor requests.

  People haven’t gotten hurt during the nights yet, and the attacks are slowing down. That’s okay, though, everyone is still gathering levels. I rub my arm against my shoulders, feeling the cold. It bites my skin, and I huddle closer to the flame, tossing a half hearted attempt at dispelling it against the fire. My mana gets consumed, and it burns a bit brighter, a bit warmer.

  I breathe, and focus on weaving my enchantments.

  - - -

  A new person comes to harass me when I want to sleep after the night. This time, they’re pushy. It almost escalates. Thatch and Inu talk to them, and something about the guy pisses Thatch off. Sylves steps in to stop him from taking his head off.

  They asked if I was interested in joining their team.

  The next day, Norman brings me another item. How kind of them to make a donation.

  - - -

  Another day passes, then another, when we get slightly smaller rations. “A new group joined the caravan,” captain Malcolm explains when we ask. “They’re humans, too. Say hello, see if you know each other.”

  I don’t need to. Shirtless man Maximillian is already waving at me, walking over in long strides, bringing his party along with him. I’ve forgotten the names already, but after whispering the question to Inu, she reminds me that the girl is Rose and the guy is Pyro. The guy with red hair whose wounds I healed.

  He looks at me arrogantly. Wearing some kind of red leather robes. The woman, Rose, I remind myself, looks at me with contempt. Maximillian himself, though, was smiling brightly as he strode up to meet us.

  “Ho there!” he calls. I tilt my head. Has he bonded with some kind of dwarven ancestor? Looking at his wide frame, he might- “Oi,” he says. “I can tell you’re thinking insults.”

  “I’d never,” I lie, calmly. “Second floor?”

  “Starving,” Rose says. “Fucking horrid out there.”

  Thatch smiles politely. “Hand her a bowl, Sylves,” he says, and the guardian of our stew-pot obliges, handing each of them a meal. Instantly, their mood towards us improves. “How’d you make it through until now?” Thatch asks.

  “Rations,” Maximillian answers easily. “We got a lot of info on the next few floors on the first, and so we prepared.”

  “Eating jerky for weeks is what we’ve been doing,” Rose grouched. Her complaints might even be a true match for Norman’s whining. Impressive.

  “I get that,” Thatch says with a commiserating smile. “Well, now you’ll have some more food at least.”

  “We did figure that you can ask the tower for a refilling salt baggie with a minor request,” Maximillian notes. “Which has been a life saver.” Instantly, Richard follows the advice, and asks for just that, receiving a small pouch full of white crystals. She pinches and tastes a few of them, then throws the other group a beaming smile, adding more to the pot.

  “Thank you for that. Care to share some of that knowledge on the upper floors?” Thatch asks with a smile.

  Pyro, the redhead I saved last time, speaks up for once. “Huh? You didn’t prep for climbing?” he asks.

  Thatch gives a grimace. “We got caught up in some… complications.”

  “Oh, we heard,” Maximilian grins brightly. “See, I think Pyro might not know but…” he leans in towards the other man and whispers, “the scary one is Ion.”

  At that, Pyro actually flinches a little. “No way,” he says. “Isn’t Ion some kind of descender?”

  What?

  “Yeah,” Ruby nods. “I’m surprised, too. How did you manage to sprout rumors that you’re some kind of reincarnated ascended?”

  Huh?

  Opal slaps their thighs and busts out in laughter. “Bahahahaha! A fucking reincarnator- Hah! Yeah right. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” They wipe at a tear in their eyes. “Ion… What’s your divine aspect, huh? The void?”

  “Surely it’d be the abyss,” Sylves chimes in helpfully, snickering at me.

  I blink, then sigh. “I assure you, I am entirely human.” For now.

  “As much as any of us are at this point,” Pyro grumbles annoyedly. He eats another big bite of soup before grumbling some more. “This tower’s taking our humanity, bit by bit.”

  “What’s that mean?” Dar asks, tilting his head.

  For the first time, Max’s party really focuses on the wulven. I see Pyro’s lips settle firmly into that frown, while Rose’s eyebrows crinkle a little. Maximillian, for his part, simply smiles brightly. “Well, humanity is what humans use to denote familiarity and safety, y’see. It means that we are comfortable knowing we won’t hurt others.”

  “So humans are… pacifists?” Richard chitters.

  That makes the big guy laugh. “Hah! No, not at all. But we like to tell ourselves we are.”

  Dar tilts his head. “That makes no sense.”

  “Your obsession with remaining as you are seems like it would promote stagnation,” Richard remarks.

  “I just don’t wanna accidentally kill people,” Pryo grumbles, looking at the floor.

  For a few seconds, everyone is silent at that. How silly. This obsession with humanity. I’m no less or more of a person than when the tower descended. Thatch has to break up the quiet with a few words of encouragement. “So…” he starts, “about those next couple floors?”