The next few days passed in much the same rhythm.
Wake up. Eat. Practice mana control. Listen to Alric's lectures while he scribbled more notes about the runes on my skin. Cultivate. Cast cantrips until my mana pool groaned for mercy. Eat again. Sleep like I was made of stone.
But even in the repetition, I felt progress.
Alric had started expanding my repertoire. After my success with the basic light orb, he introduced me to three more cantrips — all tier one, all seemingly mundane at first glance, but surprisingly complex in their own ways.
Produce Flame was simple in concept — a match-sized flicker of fire summoned at the tip of my finger. The trick wasn't in creating it, but in shaping it small enough not to explode. That one drained about a fifth of my mana, and more than once I accidentally lit the hem of my robe on fire before I learned to will it into existence, not force it.
Conjure Water was trickier. I had to visualize a small sphere of clean, still water, not just moisture from the air or filthy runoff from the temple roof. Getting the balance right — the temperature, the clarity, the volume — required more focus than I expected. Another fifth of my mana per cast.
But the one I was proudest of — and most wary of — was Gust.
It was nothing dramatic. Just a blast of air strong enough to knock over a civilian or stagger a fledgling warrior. But it was the first spell I cast that felt like it could do real damage. And it drained a full third of my mana. Alric made me swear not to use it carelessly — not because he was worried I'd hurt someone.
But because I'd drain myself, and in this world, a mage with an empty core was a sitting target.
Between spell practice and mana conditioning, I discovered something new about Nyx as well. One morning, while meditating, I suddenly saw the temple from a higher angle — like I was standing on the rafters looking down at myself.
Then I realized I wasn't.
I was seeing through Nyx's eyes.
It wasn't perfect — the bond flickered like a bad connection sometimes — but it worked. I could now share his vision when I needed to. Useful for scouting. Essential for surviving.
On the morning of the tenth day, just after I'd finished practicing a clean conjure water cast — without drenching myself, for once — Alric cleared his throat with unusual formality.
"I have something for you," he said, walking over to a chest tucked beneath the prayer altar.
He opened it and pulled out two things.
The first was a simple black eyepatch — made of soft cloth, stitched tightly, with a thin leather strap. Its colour matched my hair perfectly.
"I figured," he said, "you might prefer something more dignified than a bandage."
I took it, ran my fingers over the smooth surface. It wasn't fancy. But it was mine. And it fit. When I slipped it on, it was snug and comfortable. My reflection looked sharper somehow. Whole, in its own way.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "It's perfect."
He smiled — and then motioned to the second object.
At first glance, it looked like a carved cane with a broad base, until I realized it was shaped with a flat wooden socket at the top and grooved bracing along the side.
"A peg leg?" I asked.
"A functional peg leg," he corrected. "I had it made by the local carpenter while you were busy setting fire to your sleeves. It's not elegant, but it'll keep you upright."
I stared at it for a second, then laughed. "You serious?"
"Would I joke about orthopaedics?"
With a little effort, and Alric's help, I strapped it on and took a few experimental steps. The fit was a little stiff. The balance was weird. And it rubbed against the edge of the stump more than I liked.
But.
It was better than limping.
Way better.
I walked — walked — from one end of the room to the other.
"Alright," I said, turning back to him with a grin. "I feel like a pirate. But I'll take it."
Alric gave me a rare, satisfied nod.
"You're becoming something now, Jack. Not just a survivor. A student. A mage."
I looked down at the eyepatch, at the peg leg, then at Nyx, perched on the windowsill like a small guardian spirit.
"Yeah I'm screwed". I thought to myself.
Next day.
Stepping out of the temple was more intimidating than I expected.
Not because Florence itself was threatening — the small town was quiet, sunlit, and carried the earthy scent of wild herbs and fresh loaves cooling in windows. But after ten days holed up in dusty stone halls and surrounded by old scrolls and ancient runes, the open sky felt... vast. Judging. Alive.
Also, I hadn't walked this far on the peg leg before.
It creaked with every third step. A subtle reminder of who I was now — part man, part lumbering experiment.
Still, it felt good to breathe open air again. Nyx, in the form of a small mule, trotted beside me patiently, a leather satchel slung across his back. The disguise was surprisingly effective — he looked like just another cargo beast from a distance, save for the flicker of intelligence in his eyes and the occasional side-glance that said "I know this is undignified."
[Flashback]
"I need you to pick up a few things," Alric had said that morning, pushing a short scroll and a small leather pouch into my hand.
"Seriously?" I asked. "You're sending your half-maimed apprentice to do the shopping?"
"You have to leave the temple sometime," he grunted. "Better now than during a monster siege."
He pulled me aside and tapped the list with a gnarled finger. "Three bundles of silverleaf, five of frostroot. Avoid bruised stalks. The apothecary sells by weight, so don't get cheated. Should cost no more than seventeen bronze total. If they ask for more, threaten to name-drop the Church of Deyinara. It won't work, but it'll make you feel confident."
He handed me a handful of coins. "And no impulse buying, boy. Three bronze gets you a loaf of bread, five gets you sweetroot. You want to waste mana trying to conjure lunch again?"
"Once," I muttered. "That happened once."
He grinned. "Then go. Let the world meet its most unlikely errand boy."
[End Flashback]
The errands had gone… surprisingly well.
The apothecary, a sharp-eyed woman named Marla, didn't even flinch when I walked in with a black eyepatch, a mule companion, and a noticeable limp. She just raised an eyebrow, handed me a wicker basket, and pointed toward the shelves of dried herbs.
I found the silverleaf and frostroot with little trouble, triple-checked their quality like Alric had taught me, and paid exactly sixteen bronze. A small victory, but I'd take it.
I packed the herbs into the satchel on Nyx's side and made my way back down the cobbled streets of Florence, trying not to wobble too obviously on the peg leg.
It was late afternoon now. The shadows stretched longer, and the light had that golden warmth that made everything feel a little dreamlike. The street I walked was narrow and quiet — just a few houses with shuttered windows and lazy smoke drifting from chimneys.
Peaceful.
Until it wasn't.
About halfway down the lane, I noticed a figure step out of an alleyway ahead.
They moved like they didn't care who saw them — slow, confident, deliberate. One hand at their side.
The other?
Held a knife.
And they were walking toward me.