Trevour’s diplomatically blank look at my pronouncement that I’m the biggest troublemaker I know makes me snort in laughter. He’s so earnest about not giving offense that I resist the urge to prank him and prove my words, instead pivoting back to raising a golem army out of the detritus and dust of the earth.

  “Enough flyers, don’t you think? I’m considering spiders next, unless you have a better idea.”

  Sweat beads on Trevour’s dark brow, which goes pale under his natural olive-brown hue. “Any, uh, other options?

  “What, you don’t like spiders?”

  A burly man nearby snorts. “Trev leaped out of his hammock and went running past the wagon first night on the job. Screamed like a little girl about spiders in his blanket. We searched for half an hour before we found him up a tree, babbling to himself. Had to fetch master Yuvaan himself to talk him into climbing back down.”

  “Charitable way to put it. He almost fired Trevour on the spot,” a woman puts in helpfully.

  “Marta! You’re making me look bad,” Trevour wails, but he’s laughing right alongside her.

  Yep, definitely reminds me of Lionel.

  “Best way to overcome your fear is to face it,” I say sagely, tapping my temple.

  “No, no, I’m good—”

  A bulbous body takes shape out of glass, silencing Trevour’s protests. Eight stubby legs wiggle their way out of the blob, and he blanches even further.

  “You’re evil,” the big man chuckles darkly. “I love it. Make more!”

  Trevour whimpers and takes a step back. “Betrayal, Klaarson! No friend of mine would go along with such a wicked scheme.”

  With a grin I clench my first, crushing the construct of glass. The relief on Trevour’s face almost makes me feel bad about teasing him, though turnabout feels like fair play.

  I draw on my newest Skill and begin shaping a different beast, molding the ball of hot glass into a sleek hound with oversized jaws. “Better?”

  “Much,” Trevour squeaks out. His color normalizes and he breathes more easily. His plucky attitude rears its head again after a moment. “Don’t do that again. [Mage] or not, I’ll hit ya!”

  His friend Klaarson nudges him. “Look at you, ordering around the savior of Halmuth.”

  Trevour finches. He glances over at me, looks at the golems, and smacks his forehead. “Of course! I should have known because of all the glass magic. Someone bring me a shovel so I can bury myself in my own grave. I'm about to die of embarrassment.”

  “It’s not like I’m famous,” I protest.

  “Actually, you are,” Klaarson says, eyeing me with respect. “Master Yuvaan doesn’t reroute the caravan for just anyone. Sorry to bother you earlier. And thank you for avenging Renjie. He was our friend.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t slay the monster sooner. I’ll try to do better today,” I say quietly.

  Working as quickly as I can, I create a pack of a dozen hounds to follow the first golem I already made, which I designate as the leader with a partial imbuement of authority.

  Pulling glass from the floating, rotating orb above as I go, I fall into an easy rhythm. My Domain replaces traditional tools, letting me sculpt the glass in perfect accordance with my will instead of relying on jacks or a paddle to refine and shape the creation. Every muscular curve, each sharp claw, takes on the exact form and dimension I imagine beforehand.

  The area dims as the molten globe overhead finally runs out. I didn’t notice just how bright the ball of glass had become, but it makes sense given how intensely a crucible usually glows when it’s at full temperature.

  “Get another load!” Trevour bellows. “We’re out of rocks, and the [Mage] lord said he’s just warming up. Let’s not keep the savior of Halmuth waiting.”

  Ha! My own words, turned against me.

  I clear my throat. “I’m not a lord. Or some heroic savior. You don’t have to act awkward. I am warming up, like I said. I have more tricks to show you once the battle begins.”

  Trevour shakes his head at that, apparently not sure what to do with the fact that the supposedly great [Mage] who slayed the Oletheros and avenged his friend likes to trade in pranks and jokes just as much as he does.

  After another long, awkward moment, he settles his conflicted thoughts and manages a cheeky smile. He trots off to gather more material, with Marta and Klaarson close on his heels, and a handful of other workers with them..

  I pull on the connections I’ve already formed with my golems, taking inventory of how many glass creatures I have at my disposal. Twenty-seven. Not quite an army, not yet.

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  I run my fingers through my beard in consideration. I’ll need at least a few dozen more golems if we’re facing off against thousands of swarm monsters, which the forward scouts indicated is a conservative estimate of their numbers. Might as well prep while I wait for more stone to transmute.

  Niggling suspicion draws me up short. What if I don’t have to wait for material? What if the confluence of Skills I merged into [Vitrification] are enough to replicate my most cherished lost Skill?

  Hope eats away at me, corrosive and intense, at the mere thought of regaining some of the functionality of my long-lost [Eternal Glass Forge]. Sacrificed in the wild Rift a few years ago as I wrestled with the gushing torrent of mana, venting all that excess mana into the Skill saved my life—a trade I’d make again—but I still mourn its loss.

  My heart thuds against my ribs at the prospect of creating glass out of mana again, but I try to tell myself it’s only a theory. I can’t handle letting myself get my hopes up, not if I still can’t step back onto the path of a glass creator.

  Only one way to find out.

  Mastering my beating heart and trembling hands, I set myself to the task. Drawing on my newest Skill, [The Glassmith Masters All], I gather up my energy and will the mana to heed my call. Much like imbuing, I impress an image on the lifeblood of the world, but this time it’s far more concrete than metaphorical, forming my favorite makeup of glass with precision thanks to [Compositional Analysis].

  Glass forms from the thin air, and my heart skips a beat. A narrow rod barely as long as my hand, birthed into being by pure mana, hovers in front of me, held fast by my Domain. I let out a keening cry of joy and long-held pain. My hands hang loose at my sides, and I take short, shallow breaths to avoid losing my balance or passing out.

  How long have I dreamed of this moment? Stepping back onto the path of a creator seemed closed off to me for good. Yet now glass is mine to command once more, summoned by nothing more than magic and intent.

  Pushing more power into the Skill summons more glass, in vibrant colors and various compositions. Anything I can imagine, I can create, given enough mana and time.

  Shaking in excitement, I combine my new Skill with all my shaping prowess, activating as many Skill bundles as I can until my core spins up and hums with the power of every Skill structure channeling energy at once. Just how far can I push this upgrade?

  To my immense satisfaction, mana congeals directly into glass golems, populating the road and fields of waving grass around us with a host of creatures. A hundred more join the few dozen I already had: Hunting hounds, six-legged lizards, a goat-like creature with a singular, massive horn, and, yes, even a few spiders.

  They’re too versatile to leave off the roster, given their ability to climb sheer walls, but I tuck them in the back and cover them with a larger golem that looks vaguely like an adolescent oliphant.

  Poor Trevour. May he be oblivious!

  I’ll try to keep the creepy spiders well-hidden, at least until I need them to scale the treacherous cliffs and broken-up terrain described to us by the scouts.

  “Whoa! Where did these come from?”

  Right on cue, Trevour is back with his crew. They’re dragging more stones, but a quick glance around the area makes his eyes narrow in surprise when he takes in the new golems.

  “I, uh, may not need any more rocks to finish the army,” I say lamely, skirting right past a proper explanation.

  “Clearly,” he replies dryly.

  “Yes! Well, look at the good news. I’m way ahead of schedule when it comes to creating golems for the army we’re about to unleash. That means your hard work is over. Wanna come along and watch the battle?”

  “Is that safe?” Trevour asks.

  I wave my hands vaguely. “Ehh, probably.”

  “Good enough,” Klaarson replies before Trevour can get a word in edgewise, and Marta nods along with him. The rest of the workers follow the trio’s lead and agree to travel to the rift spawning point, although with significantly less enthusiasm.

  “We’re in!” Trevour confirms, pumping his fist and shadow-boxing the air. “I can’t believe it! We’re going monster-hunting with the [Mage] who killed the Oletheros.”

  “Excellent.” I rub my palms together. “Let’s hurry before my dear, crazy teacher kills them all by himself. The [Spear Commander] isn’t exactly known for holding back.”

  “By himself?” Marta asks, giving me a dubious side-eye.

  “He’s past the Second Threshold, isn’t he?” Trevour asks breathlessly. “Didn’t he already leave? We’ll never catch up in time!”

  I nod. “Well into the Second. One of the foremost martial experts in Densmore, actually. Wanna see what a true hero can do?”

  Eager exclamations meet my question. Spending most of my remaining mana, I manifest half a dozen glass ponies, foregoing fine detail in place of rough shape. That many at once still takes me a solid five minutes, however.

  Hiding how hard I pushed myself, I grin and hop on the lead horse. Trevour, Klaarson, and Marta soon follow my example, with the others close behind them. None of them seem like seasoned riders, so I bind them each in place with a glass belt.

  The steeds are smaller than I’d like, but I’ll empower them with mana to keep them all running at full speed. Using my Domain, I draw out the spare necklaces of pseudo-cores from my team’s traveling bags, and drape them over the necks of the ponies. That should reduce the strain of the power draw while we run, leaving me free to recover my dwindling mana after such an energy-expensive test of my new abilities.

  “Hold tight!” I shout, and we take off. The air rushes around us as though we’re hurled forward by a catapult, and a laugh of delight leaps to my lips. I haven’t run this fast since my mad dash through the wild rift with Smoke.

  I hope she’s doing well. I owe her a falcon, after all. If her Skill works on my golems, I can finally make good on my promise to turn her into the fastest woman in the land.

  Even if the Skill doesn’t work like that, requiring an actual, live animal from which to steal speed, I’ll make it work thanks to [Legacy of the Scalpel]. I swear it on my own core. I’m done accepting limitations. My friends deserve better than the hand they were dealt. We all do.

  Soon the pace doubles and my reminiscing fades away, replaced by the effort of staying on the back of the slick glass. I cheat and add my own belt, which keeps me in place but does little for the uncomfortable bouncing up and down. I’m miserable until I add stirrups and press myself up into a slight crouch, providing instant relief.

  Guilty at forgetting such a fundamental feature for the others, I stop refilling my core and spend the mana to improve their comfort. I don’t look over my shoulder to see the outcome, but the waves of relief rolling off my new friends tells me that I should have taken care of them from the beginning.

  Oops!

  My eyes water from the rush of air, and I mentally groan as I realize that I inadvertently skipped another key safety feature. Blinking away the painful sting of air against my eyes and face, I protect us all with a dome of force from my Domain, and soon all of us can see again without squinting in pain.

  There. Much better.

  Our comfort thus ensured, I turn my attention toward speed. The miles disappear as our horses thunder across the plains, and I whoop in excitement at the exhilaration and freedom of unfettered speed. Now this is the life!