Ha! A mad wizard. Me?

  Just as I’m about to laugh again at the ridiculous thought, pressure builds up within my chest. Inwardly, heat erupts, as though I’m standing in the center of a volcanic crucible of hot glass.

  Humming with strange dissonance, an ocean of energy floods into me, hammering my Skills as the Rift ejects the effluvia of its dying, chaotic essence. The mana instantly hones in on the path of least resistance, which just happens to be me thanks to the resonance I built up with the Rift while I held the portal open and kept it from falling to pieces around us.

  Sirens of danger are blaring in my mind, but I don’t fight the influx of energy. Maybe this is exactly the opportunity I’ve needed.

  “Watch over me in case any more bugs are around,” I shout out to my new teammates, sending the same command to the remaining golems in the area that didn’t return to the camp site with Nicanor.

  They erupt in a flurry of protests and demands for explanation, but the boiling maelstrom of energy inundating me waits for no man. Without any further explanation, I fall into my core space, excitement and anxiety warring within me at what I might find inside. The last time I channeled this much power, I slagged half my Skills.

  This time, I’m going to lasso the power and make it mine, like a [Wrangler] capturing a wild horse and training the fiery, majestic creature to work with its new rider. Empowering myself with the dying gasp of a Rift destroyed before it could stabilize isn’t my craziest idea ever, not with all the training I’ve put in over the years to conceptualize and control energy flows.

  War greets my inner vision. As far as the eye can see, mana is devouring itself, awash in a turbulent sea of violent dissonance. And it’s heading straight for the glittering towers of my fractal Skill structures.

  What I’m looking at mirrors the unstable, chaotic energies of the Rift. No surprise, since I’m willingly drawing it inward. Since I spent my own mana stabilizing the Rift long enough for us to escape, there’s a huge excess of wild mana with nowhere to go.

  Raw mana crashes against the side of my Skill [Arcane Domain: My Eyes Shall Pierce the Veil]. The impact sends me spiraling sideways in my soul space, shuddering as I scrabble to regain my bearings. I gulp as the enormity of the potential danger hits home.

  If out-of-control mana raging through a Rift can cause it to collapse, what about my interior world? What if I fall to the influx of raw energy? I can’t cripple myself again.

  Steel willpower clamps down on the fear.

  Gritting my teeth, I shunt the roaring mana away from my Skill structures. My core is almost empty of mana after all the work I’ve done today, so I unleash my hungry, depthless well on the wild mana, devouring it greedily and working overtime to naturalize it.

  It’s like drinking from a pond that’s actively trying to drown me, but I press on. Drop by drop, I convert the foreign energy into something I can use. Agonizing as it is, I can’t go any faster without a stronger connection to the concepts of time.

  Every bit of me feels like I’m on fire, but I can’t stop halfway through the purification. There’s too much virulent, burning energy within me to safely leave the job half-finished.

  Focus, Nuri! Study what’s happening and then take control, I command myself. You’re the guide, the orchestrator, not a passive observer!

  Straining like I’m lifting an entire caravan wagon with my bare hands, I fight against the wild impulses of the mana. Steering it toward my own goals feels like it’s taking an eternity. Each second is an incandescent sunburst against my soul, searing hot, but I can’t stop now.

  Unless I’m willing to forego the potential gains, that is, and simply vent the mana. Bleeding off the built-up density will work, but it feels too much like admitting failure.

  Pushing on, stumbling blindly through the heavy fog of energy, I stumble toward my goal. As the minutes tick by, the pressure lessens, until suddenly, I reach a tipping point. My channels shake with the effort, and I wince at how raw I feel, but the remaining energy slows to a manageable flow.

  The pressure abates, and the pain eases a little. I’m not any faster, running at full bandwidth already, but there’s less fear of bursting asunder.

  Several tense moments later, the rushing energy slows to a trickle. I draw in the last few fumes of power, until it’s gone entirely, and take a moment to steady myself.

  Originally, I wanted to purify the Rift core and stabilize the entire wild Rift, turning it into a potential new training region for Nicanoar’s men. Hubris. I can barely stabilize myself!

  On the outside, my fists clench in determination. I hover closer to the churn of energy in my core, observing the difference between the wild energy and the mana that’s mine to command.

  Everyone can naturalize mana with enough time. It’s innate to humans and beasts alike. How it’s done? I have no idea. But I feel like I’m close to a breakthrough if I can figure it out.

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  Precision makes all the difference. Getting the big picture right and the details wrong doesn’t help me much. I’m overlooking crucial information. Just trying to puzzle it all out has my head spinning. The mother of all headaches is rapidly crushing my skull.

  “Shattered shards,” I curse, falling out of my core space and grumbling as I sprawl across the rocky red ground on the outside world.

  The stench of the monster corpses around us hits me, and I almost retch. A pulse of power pushes away the remains of the foul smells from the larvae we killed earlier, and we all

  Basking in the real sunlight back in our own world, I pant for air as I try to catch my breath and recover some equilibrium.

  I replay my failed attempt to pacify the Rift’s energy in my mind, but soon give up with a sigh. What am I missing?

  To my surprise, my newest Skill flares to life. Something about the mixture of runic energies is off, according to my folded in Skill [Compositional Analysis]. But what?

  Around us, faint wisps of the chaotic energy wafts up from the scar in the ground where the sealed-over Rift tore its way into our plane of existence. It’s not much, but over the next few hours, enough should seep through that I can try again to analyze the process of pacifying wild mana from beyond our realm.

  Start small. Work your way up, I remind myself. Excitement bubbles up inside me at the thought of conferring with Melina, coming up with a plan, and trying again. I’ve got my work cut out for me for sure.

  “What was that? You’re insane!” Trevour yells at me, snapping my attention back to the present.

  Beside him, Marta surprises me by placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Let him be, Trev. Can’t you see he’s suffering backlash from getting us out?”

  “I thought you were still angry about getting dropped on the rocks. Sorry about that, by the way,” I say sheepishly.

  Marta chuckles. “Oh, I am. I understand, though. It’s not like you had a lot of options. Now let’s get you patched up. Once we’re back with the caravan, I can get a [Heartfire] in place that should boost your natural regeneration. Can’t do much out here, but it’s the best I can offer in thanks for saving us.”

  “That’s Marta for you,” Klaarson says, dusting himself off and hauling himself to his feet with a grimace. “She gets worked up easily, but she’ll always do her best for you in the end. A mother to us all.”

  She shrugs, but a fond half-smile twitches on her lips. “Someone’s got to take care of all you lunks. C’mon, let’s get back to the ‘van.”

  “Sorry, I need a minute,” I say, though I’m touched by their kindness.

  Genuine concern flashes in Marta’s expression. “Are you injured? We can call Master Yuvaan for a ride.”

  I shake my head, embarrassed at having to explain what I’m doing. “Need to use the energy I siphoned before it dissipates.”

  “Priceless opportunity, I’m sure,” Trevour says dryly, but he rolls his eyes and plops back down on the ground nearby. “Go on. We’ll keep watch.”

  I nod in thanks and turn inward again. I’m not ready to untangle the puzzle of how the incredibly flexible mana of a Rift works, exactly, but I don’t want to waste the opportunity to advance my Skills.

  Inwardly, my Skills are scuffed but unbroken. I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight. Visual confirmation helps, even if I already knew I wasn’t badly hurt. Drawing on the potential of the wild mana, which seems eager to be imprinted with direction and intent, I feed it into my Skills. All of them at once.

  Now that the energy is corralled—not exactly what I’d call pacified, but harnessed to my will at the very least—I can finally turn my sights toward merging Skills. The only Skills that might be ready are in my Domain bundle, so at least my next step is decided for me.

  The vast crystalline structures are so close together that their runic arrays cross over each other, interwoven in an incomprehensible tangle. Activating [Fault Finder], I turn the old, basic Skill inward, searching for weak points in my [Arcane Domain], [Legacy of the Scalpel], and [Fault Finder] itself.

  Analyzing my Skill structure with the Skill it generates feels weird, like writing out a tactical report about fighting myself. Part of me feels like it shouldn’t work. I’m good at overlooking my own blind spots, after all. That’s why I depend on my team so much.

  Magic works on a logic all its own, however. The Skill sings in my soul, seemingly eager to pick out each flaw and efficiency in its construction. Moments later, I have a list of corrections to make, and that’s just for [Fault Finder].

  Time stretches on, and I analyze my Domain and Legacy Skills, which prove far more challenging for the relatively low-ranked [Fault Finder] to properly review. Upgrades will be few and far between, but that’s not important right now. Crucially, I see a couple key areas where I can improve compatibility.

  With the plaible, impressionable energy of the Rift at my disposal, improving the Skill structure is trivial. I trim off extraneous control mechanisms, confident in my manual mana control to make up the difference, and shove the Skills together to form one super-structure.

  Like slotting tongue and groove floorboards in place, they slide together and form a seamless new surface. In conjunction with [Legacy of the Scalpel], erasure of entire runic arrays is as simple as a mere thought.

  When the shapes seem right, and [Fault Finder] no longer screams a warning that it’s all going to fall apart, I pour the malleable mana stolen from the wild Rift into the gargantuan Skill tower formed from the combination of the three Skills, and watch in awe as the entire thing blazes with inner light.

  Resplendent with the animating energies of the world, the Skill glows brighter and brighter, until I’m forced to turn my spiritual sight aside from its glorious intensity.

  My soul vibrates with power. The wild, primal mana I’ve gathered swirls around the Skill, burrowing into it with the promise of limitless potential. In a burst of a million colors all at once, intent and energy coalesce, christening the new Skills.

  Blinking with my metaphysical body, I turn and risk a glance. Where three Skills once grew within my soul, now a single, enormous edifice stands. Impossibly intricate, inscribed with dense runes I barely recognize, the immense Skill glistens with argent splendor.

  Platinum. Not Iridium. A flicker of disappointment hits me, although I recognize and dismiss the greed for what it is. The new, merged Skill is still higher ranked than the other three on their own, and I intuitively sense how much more fluidly I can direct mana within my Domain.

  Flitting to the far side of the Skill, I confirm a hunch. The banner still reads [Arcane Domain: My Eyes Shall Pierce the Veil]. Whatever governs Skills either isn’t feeling creative today, or there’s far more to a Domain than I’ve been using it for so far if such a powerful Skill as the [Legacy of the Scalpel] doesn’t change things.

  I strongly suspect it’s the latter. And I can’t wait to discover just what the upgrades can do.