Chapter 53: Restrained in a Pit

It didn’t take long for her to gather her bearings. The moment she did, she felt as though a barrier she hadn’t noticed suddenly vanished. If its dispersal hadn’t been so jarring, like a sudden rush of sound after being underwater, she likely would never have known it was there.

So whoever had placed it there – likely the Historian – was definitely still monitoring her. The timing was too coincidental otherwise. Unfortunately, that individual did not reveal themselves.

Scarlet made to sweep out with her mana, an action that had become almost instinctive by this point, when she ran into another invisible barrier. This one prevented her mana from leaving her body. Panic seized her for a moment before she wrestled it back. Very quickly she engaged Empathy, trying to see if the mana block was complete or just external. Calling on the Skill also had the secondary effect of forcibly keeping her calm while she figured out just how much of her combat strength had been nerfed before she’d been dumped into the murder pit.

Okay, so her mana wasn’t gone. It was just the external application of it that was blocked. A quick scan of herself identified the issue. Underneath her shirt and pants, super-soft vambraces covered her forearms and calves. They were made of the most comfortable material she had ever felt; lightweight, and silky, and no less effective in their restriction. A quick Inspect told her they could be used as actual armor.

Small mercies.

The night before, they’d discussed using restrictive artifacts while she focused on her physical stats. Still, discussing something and acting on it while she lay there, unconscious were two different things.

The idea that someone had just snuck into her place of rest, fastened things onto her body, then dumped her outside, all without her ever being aware, was jarring. Violating in a way she couldn’t quite name. She and the Historian were not friends. They were not master and disciple. They were two people who had mutually agreed to something, two people in a mutually beneficial arrangement, and yet he’d still done this to her.

Was he trying to shove the difference between them in her face? Was this what the Historian had called the ‘vulpian’s natural mischievous instinct’? Regardless of whatever else he’d been trying to do, he’d left Scarlet with a visceral reminder of the disparity between herself and someone truly powerful.

With that thought in mind, Scarlet began to circulate her psionic energy. While any external use of mana had been restricted, her psionics had not.

Again, small mercies.

Trying to focus on the positives she could, Scarlet released Empathy and swallowed hard against the emotions that immediately threatened to overwhelm her. With this clear example of how easily her mana could be restricted, she knew she needed to learn to master herself without it. While it was effective at moderating her reactions under the surveillance of a being beyond Tier 3, it was still a weakness. She needed to be able to handle things without using a crutch, lest it become a problem in the future.

She focused on a Skill she hadn’t used in entirely too long: Meditation.

It kicked in, and instantly she was drawn into herself. She let herself be sick, withdrawing her senses and relying on Maus to be a lookout. Her channels were noticeably wider now, the mana within them having grown both in quantity and quality. She found that her body was suffused with psionic energy. It was spread densely through every part of her, intermingling harmoniously with the other energies inside her. The traces of Alignment she’d subsumed subtly on display.

Breathing deeply, she forced her mind to settle and take stock.

Limbs? Intact.

Maus? Alert and present.

Then she ran through an equipment check.

All right, so she didn’t have her storage bag. That was not ideal, but not the worst thing in the world. What else did she have?

In front of her were her throwing knives, the ones she’d received from the System, not the ones she’d bought at the convention what felt like ages ago. Her cane was there too, as well as a small pouch containing what appeared to be field rations.

Basically, apart from the food, she’d been dropped into the Pit with only what was outside her storage bag when she’d gone to sleep.

Unfortunately, he’d neglected some of the basics, like wet-wipes for using the washroom… or the fact that she still needed to do such things. It made sense when she considered what he’d said about the physical changes people underwent as they advanced in Tier.

It would have been nice if she’d been able to get some proper breakfast. It would have been nice if she’d had some briefing, some warning. If her erstwhile instructor had shown even a modicum of consideration for the fact that this was all new to her. That she only fought because she had to fight. Because that’s what this new reality demanded of her. It would’ve been nice to have at least been given time to collect herself before being sent to the front lines, or dumped on a battlefield or–

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The thought cut off abruptly as she circulated the energies inside her, trying to pull in as much from the environment as she could. It was barely helping.

She tried to focus on the positives.

At least her outfit was appropriate considering she had no adequate armor. It was the most generic and least complimentary thing she’d worn in years that hadn’t been a literal grey sack. To her relief, it was also what she’d worn to bed.

Celebrate the little things, she reminded herself as she took in another deep breath, drawing energy in and feeling it circulate, refocusing her racing thoughts.

She had no clue when the first wave of the horde would come, or just what it would require of her.

A fluffy body scampered onto her lap, and the barest of smiles graced her lips.

What it would require of her and Maus, she amended.

She wasn’t alone.

Never again.

She kept Meditation running passively in the background as she stood up. It was a strange sensation, a little like dissociating, but more present.

She shook out her limbs and leaned into the feeling, the calm detachment.

‘Okay, Boss?’ Maus had felt her turmoil through their bond, and while he couldn’t understand it, he wanted to help.

She hummed in affirmation, reaching up where he was perched on her shoulder to stroke his fur. Being so intimately connected with him was both sobering and comforting.

The Historian had made it abundantly clear that they would be on their own in the Pit. That was fine. Maus still had his mana, and while she might have been limited, she was not helpless.

Never again.

No matter what, they’d go down swinging.