Wraithwood Botanist

"Leaving your initials?" I asked. "Hate to break it to you, but this is my bath. If you leave your mark, I’ll just buff it out."

"No, no," Trant said. "Of course not. I haven’t carved my name in something since…" He chuckled slightly, evilly almost, and then said, "No, this isn’t my initials."

"You can’t just laugh like that and not say anything."

"Of course I can. Come see."

I walked into the room and found an array carved onto the floor. It had an almost perfect circle carved in despite not using tools. It had three layers and had the most complex array of runes I had ever seen.

"What is this?" I asked.

"It’s an adaptive temperature array," he said. "When the body goes through tempering, it experiences fluctuations in heat. This automatically adapts. I remember this one pupil tried tempering a hellspike in one go; it flash boiled the water. You’d think this wouldn’t keep up, but it did. Froze it in an instant, but the hellspike’s a hellspike, so the ice exploded. Blinded the idiot for a week. He was in debt for years."

"What’s a hellspike?" I asked.

"It’s a weed that releases heat when it touches water. Infinitely useful. Sprinkle a bit on snow, and you’ll heat up in a blizzard. Have an enemy? Blind ’em and their eyes’ll boil. Need some information? Threaten ’em with a welder. Truly remarkable. Infinite indeed."

"And someone casually tempered it? What does that mean?"

"One moment." Trant put his tiny hands on the array and activated it. It glowed with golden light, but not completely. He clicked his tongue and fluttered to a roughly carved section.

"Kira," I whispered. "Help Trant."

Kira materialized and quietly peeled the fairy off the floor and then used her free hand to carve the array with precision magic like a laser cutter.

"Now that is nifty," Trant chuckled in amazement. Squeezing her fingers in the name of science. Trant wiggled out of Kira’s grip once she finished, then enchanted the circle. It worked like a charm.

"Thank~you." He bowed to Kira, then grabbed a bucket of strange liquid from the corner. He used Separation to pull a white paste out of the bucket and then slathered it into the tub, applying it evenly as Kira helped him without prompting.

"Yeah…" I said. "So anyway, back to what we were talking about. What’s tempering?"

"Oh, tempering. Yes. If elixirs build the inner body, tempering builds the exterior by applying a magic coating. It’s like this paste… You have some strong wood here, but what happens when it’s exposed to hot water? It warps. Rots. Molds. So what do you do? You strengthen it. Put protective coatings on it. Enchant it. That’s what tempering is."

That seemed slightly confusing, but it was nothing compared to the English language, where mixing, baking, frosting, glazing, and decorating were all collectively called "baking."

"Makes sense…" I said. "So he was boiling his body to become heat resistance?"

He paused. "No, forgive me. Tempering is broken into two parts: glossing and activating. He was glossing grosha root, which works like this array. When heat reaches it, it releases magic to cool itself. To make a gloss permanent, you have activate it, otherwise the body’ll just shed it."

"And he activated it by boiling the water?"

"Yes. Guts of iron, that one. Became one hell of a heat shield during the last war. He was celebrated for it, actually."

I chuckled sardonically. "So he won on out in the end, huh?"

"Oh, no. He’s dead. Survived the war, but not long after. People like that either die young or live forever. Never know these days."

I frowned deeply and swallowed hard. "What about me? Am I boiling alive today?"

"No… you’re in for something different," Trant said, tone darkening. "Right now, you’re one impact away from instant death."

I immediately thought back to fighting against the Melhans.

"So what we need to do is temper your body to survive a serious impact, then train that acceleration technique of yours to surpass the elders. And we’ll be doing this in two parts. The temper today is quite remarkable. It automatically becomes stronger than steel when an attack has a certain velocity. Once your done, your skin’ll be able to bend a sword. After that, we’ll improve your bones. Now come, let’s make some tempers."

Trant led me to the alchemy station once the bath was drying then started to teach me the ropes.

Tempers—"glosses"—were just like any other alchemic creation. They could be made into creams, elixirs, tinctures, mixes, or any other type of base, but most were dried and dusted and mixed, prepared to put into a bath to coat the person’s skin. So, the process was almost insultingly uncomplicated, but I still got alchemic creation advancements for making them.

It was ideal.

"What exactly am I making?" I asked as I dried and crushed plants.

"I’m not sure what you’d call it, but we call it sheal skin, which is the word for enchanted metals… and skin. Obviously. There’s different strengths you can get. So we use grades of metal and enchantments for the names. But you can just call it metal skin. It’s a necessary temper for dealing with wind blades and lances. One of my pupils came in and told me that his eyelid blocked a wind blade. Lost sight in the other eye when he didn’t blink fast enough, but one of them was saved. Good batch."

"I’m not sure what to say about that…" I said. "But it sounds powerful… How… do you make it?"

"This," Trant said, lifting a jar with an ominous black vine inside, "is called reever weed. It’s famous for peeling a person’s skin off."

"Excuse me what?" I asked sharply.

"And these," he said absentmindedly, lifting a jar of golden leaves that had a slick shine that glimmered when the sun hit them right, "these are ilain leaves. They fuse mana in your skin, creating a second layer. Combined with consistent healing, you’re creating a magical layer that’s very strong and heals very fast."

"Hold up, let’s go back," I demanded.

"Why?" he asked. "I think you understood me right? It peels off skin. Is there something confusing about that? No, no. There’s no way. That means you simply don’t like the prospect, but if that’s the case, you should be looking at these leaves because they’re your salvation. I mean no one wants to walk around without skin, right?" he asked, laughing twice awkwardly. Then he caught a glimpse of my stern face and turned away sheepishly. "Right… the reever’s the activator. It’s what’ll activate the ilain and give you magical skin that can survive steel and heal rapidly. It’s the most powerful temper we have."

"I…" I opened up my mouth without words, then said, "I appreciate that, but… it’s not going to heal immediately… right?"

"Oh, no, no. You won’t lose your skin for any amount of the time. Because we’ll use these…"

He opened a bag, and I looked at the herbs inside in shock. "Wait… these are… the plants that healed Halten."

"You’ve seen them? Good-good. Then I’m sure you don’t need an explanation. This peels the skin, this covers your muscles with strengthened artificial skin, and this heals your real skin. And since we’ll create a wrap, all of them will work continuously. So while you’re technically losing your skin, it’s always healing in real time. It’s not that bad. I once knew a guy who drank this—"

"You can stop," I said. "Just… let’s get this over with."

He nodded and helped me mix a waterproofer. Once we finished, we created a disgusting-looking clear slather that looked like shredded frog slime. I filled the water in my new bath, mixed in the temper and activator, dunked my whole body, including my head, since it only attacked skin, and lathered my entire body in the healing herbs while Trant slathered me up with a waterproofing agent.

And let me tell ya.

From a rational perspective, Trant was either lying about it not being that bad, or he was an absolute psychopath, and I can say for certain that he was both. The next twelve hours were the worst yet, and there were a lot of "worst" moments. In fact, I’m not sure anything has challenged what I experienced that night, and I’ve experienced some horrifying things over the years. It’s so bad I’ll let your imagination take over, but I’ll say two things:

I never fully trusted anyone again, and you bet your sweet ass that I studied everything that he gave me after.

"You should’ve warned me," I said. "I would’ve handled it."

Trant smiled bitterly, and I have to admit, I found his argument very persuasive.

"I’m sorry, Mira, but I did the best I could. I told you what it did; that much was honest. But had I gone into detail, you would’ve spent the whole time feeling like you’d permanently lose your skin, and you’d go into a panic attack. And that’s dangers. I’ve watched pupils die because they hyperventilated and passed out in the water, all because they get all sorts of grim visuals in their head." He spun his finger around his temple. "Down playing it makes people focus on the pain, not the potential. Trust me. I’ve been leading this for centuries. It’s the only way."

His eyes were sad and pained, and that made me feel guilty, so I got dressed and changed the subject.

"So… what does this do?" I asked. "It better be worth it."

"Try to cut yourself," Trant said.

I was hesitant, but I was determined to see if it was worth it. So I grabbed my machete and nervously tried to cut the back of my forearm without mana sharpening. The instant the edge touched my skin, the skin came alive, snapping into a sheet of metal. I pressed down and it didn’t even leave a red line on the skin.

In a delirious, dreamlike state, I pushed harder and harder until I grabbed a table for better leverage, preparing to saw it.

"Hold it!" Trant cried. "That’s gonna break at some point, and your muscles aren’t as strong as your skin! You need a whole lot of tempers before you attempt that!"

I snapped out of my trance and smiled crazily, chuckling when I realized what I was doing.

It was just so damn captivating!

"Well, at least we know it works," Trant chuckled nervously. "Now let’s get you a tempering calendar. You can pick the tempers, and I expect you to research them."

"Planned on it…" I whispered. "What about Kline?" I turned into the woods, where he was watching us.

Trant turned to my invisible warrior as well, as if he were clear as day. "Oh, he’ll be whining about it. So we’ll get him scheduled. But for now, go foraging. Mushroom hunting’s best at twilight in these parts."

3.

Tempering was the most brutal form of power building, but it was also the most fulfilling. In just a few weeks, I was able to grab sticks out of the fire with my bare hands and withstand the equivalent of a nine-millimeter bullet. Even Kline’s fur wouldn’t burst into flames when he lay in the fire to show off.

It was quite the spectacle. Kyro and Reta came out to watch Trant test my body with spells and blades, with the former drinking between spells like a redneck watching Nascar. It was annoying, but the way he expressed surprise when I tanked a dozen hits at a time was sort of satisfying.

It was good to be appreciated.

Trant didn’t like it so much. He kept saying, "Your soul force is so abnormal for your stage. I’m not sure if this is working, but I’m afraid to take it too far. You might explode like a ripe vegetable if I push it."

That statement filled me with dread, but at some point, Trant said, "Well, thank the dryads you’re sturdy up here," he said, tapping his temple, "’Cause if we can’t test, it’s best just to make you indestructible."

I liked the way that sounded—and really appreciated Trant and his teachings.

Then, I appreciated him more once I started training with Kyro.

"So?" Kyro said when I walked in one day. "You think you’re hot shit now?"

"I think I’m desperate," I said.

"Well… can’t argue with that." Kyro took a drink and fluttered out of the dark room without cutting his stubble off, braving the sunlight with only his hands for shields.

I was concerned by how far in the woods he took me, but I embraced it, steeling my resolve until I could handle the fear of the battle once we got to a rocky meadow.

"You sure you want to do this?" I asked.

"Don’t have a choice," I said. "Trant pumped my organs with vira leaf. So if you don’t rattle my organs, I’ll just have to let you beat my ass later."

"Oof." Kyro ran his fingers through his hair. "I’m disgruntled, but I’m not that disgruntled."

"Come on. You need to—"

Kyro disappeared, and then I felt a cannonball hit my stomach, sending me flying into a tree. I hit the bark with an intense impact, shattering the wood as nuts and sticks fell on my head. I coughed out blood and felt my vision blurring.

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