The Puppeteer of Faith (Happy Birthday Mom – This is for you)

The Moon was beautiful. The glowing, white circle lit up the dark snow, its halo breaking the black canvas. It was a beautiful sight, and the lake that reflected the moon’s light made it even better. A person walked amidst the forest, heading toward the body of water, their silhouette streaking across the grey waters. Robes fluttered in the cold, winter breeze buffeting their skin, their eyes glinted in the darkness. 

He needed to get there, the tower will provide him enough safety to survive the cold. The white scarf was the only thing covering his face, and the robes the only warmth he had. His wizard’s hat shrouded his face in shadow, and the growing clouds started to drop snow. The night sky was flooded in flurries of white as the white land grew bigger. He opened his gloved palm, reaching out and showing his Core. His Core was a bright blue sphere, shrouded in and aura of blue-white. He hoped that this was enough to light up the way to the tower. With his Core floating above his hand, he proceeded to march in a grueling pace to the tower. 

Intermission: A Core is the center of magic in any living thing, the color represented what type of magic one could do. (Light blue was Arcane, Purple was Focused Arcane, etc.).  Magic is determined by your parents, if one’s parents had Arcane and Focused Arcane, the kid would have one of the two. Never would a person java multiple types of magic. A Core’s Power was measured in Spirit. Spirit could simply be translated into stamina. The more Spirit you have the more magic you could use. Spirit is measured in increments of seven. This is only at birth, because it is possible to gain more Spirit.

None – which is very rare and would mean that person has no magic – 5% of all people have no magic (Note:No magic doesn’t mean no Core. ) 10% of all animals don’t have any sort of booster/magic.

Low – Also rare, but only because people with low Spirit go and gain more to get to the next level. Most people fit in the next three categories.

Below Average – Self-Explanatory

Average – Self-Explanatory

Above Average – Self-Explanatory

Superior – A rare achievement, that is only achievable by enough kills

Not Possible anymore or is it? – … What do you want me to do?

The ways to gain Spirit are fairly simple. Kill a living thing and take its spirit or use a new process of extraction. While Spirit displays the mystical stamina, SM (Strength of Magic) determines how strong the magic is. It follows the exact same pattern as Spirit.

His boots crunched with snow, and his breath was much more fast-paced. He heard a chilling howl in the forest, and instantly knew wolves were on the patrol. He didn’t have time for this, he needed to get to the tower. The peaceful woods turned dark within a matter of seconds. He felt eyes in the darkness, the eyes of a predator can’t be mistaken. He sighed and dissolved the core, feeling it return to the center of his body, a warm feeling. He didn’t have any equipment on him, expecting the walk to be a short one. He wasn’t that good at fighting. His Core weapon was strings after all. It was a useless weapon, as useless as him. Every arcane magician had a core weapon and his was the worst. It was worse than the person that had leaves. Out of everything he could get: Blades, spears, and even leaves. He got strings, of all things. It was a disappointment like him. He knew from the start that having faith was going to backfire immediately and he shouldn’t have been born with such power. He had an above average Spirit and an average SM, but he knew that someone else should have gotten it, not him. 

He sighed and continued trekking along the path, his hands in the pockets of his white robe. He knew better than to stray off the path, that was until a sudden whisk of grey fur narrowly hit him. He turned around looking at the three wolves that circled him maliciously. He didn’t have time to think as one lunged at him, claws unsheathed, and he barely managed to side-step, nearly slipping on the snow. He removed his hands from his pockets and pointed his five fingers at a tree branch; Blue strings shot out of his fingers latching around the branch. He willed the string to pull him to itself. He pulled his hand back and jumped, the strings acting like a hook and pulling him onto the branch, his fingers digging on the branch as he hoisted himself above. He quickly examined the situation. The wolves were trying to claw their way up the tree, and he felt the branch creak from the pressure. He pulled himself onto another branch, trying to flee instead of hurting the wolves. One of the canines managed to get on the branch he was on, cornering him against the trunk. He managed to wrap the wolf in one of his strings and swing it around, effectively slamming it into the trunk and rendering it unconscious. He held his hand over his mouth as he realised he might have hurt the creature if not killed it. However, his thoughts were interrupted as the branch he was on snapped, and he was hurled into the snow below.

He quickly got up trying to avoid the wolves and escape. He grabbed a broken tree branch with the blue silk and flung it at the two wolves. One managed to swerve out of the way, but the other wasn’t as lucky. A sickening crunch was heard as the wolf’s leg gave out beneath it, all while it barked in pain. He fled and swung through the trees, The blue strings marking his path. The wolf behind him didn’t let up and instead started running faster, not fazed by the freezing air around them. He managed to escape to a clearing to catch a breather, knowing the predator would catch up quickly. The snow kept pouring, as the last wolf closed in on him. Its eyes were glinting in the moonlight, and that was when he realized the wolf was not normal. He looked into its core, and saw a light purple sphere glowing in the shadows of its body. A Focused Arcane Core. He knew it wasn’t uncommon for animals to have magic that boosts them, like a speed boost or sharpened teeth, but a creature with Arcane. No. Focused Arcane? That was extremely rare. Unlike normal Arcane, which is based on versatility and diversity, Focused Arcane relies heavily on combat. However, this led to most Focused Arcanists to use their abilities for looting, robbing, and murder. Dark Arcane (As it is now called) is rarely appreciated, and the chances of a person being accepted with Focused Arcane are extremely low.

The grey canine seemed to radiate something. He felt it; it was easy to tell what it was. Raw Power. Purple light surrounded the wolf, shrouding its body in a powerful aura. Its energy flicking as the wolf bristled. It raised its paw and swept it horizontally, He dodged and rolled back as it missed his head. Suddenly he felt something slam into his left side knocking him into the tree. He spat out some blood and shakily stood up, trying to see through the falling snow. It was a paw, but not any paw, a gigantic, glowing outline of one. It hovered right in front of the wolf’s paw in the exact position. A Spectral Attack. The Spectral Attack is one of the main combat tricks that Focused Arcanists used. From his research in the library, he knew that any single attack could be repeated in a larger, powerful version. Hopefully, the wolf wasn’t smart enough to use its claws. Surprise flashed across the canine’s furry face, and it bared its teeth, almost smiling. It snapped open its claws, glinting maliciously in the moonlight, and it swung it through the air.  Before he could digest what was happening, his body screamed at him to move, his reflexes acted and he stumbled out the way of three crescent-shaped Spectral Attacks. He heard the sound of bark being ripped and the crash of a tree. He needed to beat the creature, but what could he do? He was weak, and his strings were the most useless weapons in combat. He snapped out of his thoughts, and narrowly avoided another strike from the wolf. At this point, he knew that if this wolf was let out of the forest it could cause some serious damage. He didn’t want to fight, but at this point it was inevitable. His adrenaline kicked in, his heart was beating, his blood was rushing. He didn’t have faith in himself, hiding from demons within. He had to, he had to face his demons, or he would die a worthless death.

He felt it loosen, the grip on him. It felt amazing, he felt free and for once in his life powerful. The realization struck him. Arcane Magic was meant to be versatile and diverse, strings were one of the most diverse weapons that could be used. He could celebrate all he wanted later, but now he had to do this. His duty was to defeat this creature. But was it his duty? Did he have to do this? He was lost in the abyss that was his mind. He didn’t want to imagine taking on a wolf, especially one with extremely powerful abilities. However, the feeling, the feeling of freedom, of faith, it drove him on. Gone was the child who could only watch his failures grow, gone was the person who thought his gifts were burdens. Now, the only person that remains was him. Him and his strings. Him and his gift. 

He leapt forward, startling the wolf and hooked it to his strings. He twirled around fingers wide, and flung the canine back. It stumbled along the snowy plane, but it wasn’t an easy opponent. It kicked and lashed out, clawing and scratching while he was dodging. He was sweating hard, most of it being frozen in the chilly air. The creature didn’t let up, light purple flashing around him, crescents and paws. Trees were breaking, the ground was shaking, and his heart was beating. The snow around them didn’t faze the two combatants. Strings and fur broken trees littered the battlefield. The wolf lunged forward, trying to deal a final blow, leaving itself open. He stumbled out of the way, strings following his fingers, it hooked the wolf and slammed it face-first into the ground. The furry beast went limp, and he shook as he tried to stand up. The wolf suddenly spun and plunged its teeth into his arm, crimson splashed on the white ground. His panic kicked in as he tried to shake it off. His heart froze as he heard a growl from the other side of the clearing. The wolf that he thought he knocked out returned to the battle with bristled fur. He flung the wolf clamped on his arm back and fell to the ground right before his head almost got sliced off. He was outmatched. Badly. He was wounded, and the taste of blood seemed to make one of the wolves go feral. More trees fell, and purple crescents seemed to fly around him. He could see the other wolf cower and try to maneuver its way around the Spectral Attacks and falling trees. A second analysis of the situation and his ability gave him an idea.

He smirked and flung his strings at the wolf trying to flee, hooking it to its limbs and feet. Even though it was a life and death situation, he still wanted to try some fun things. He puppeteered the wolf, using it to prevent the feral one from sending Spectral Attacks at him, and using it as a cover to prepare some attacks. However, the canine realized the predicament and decided to sacrifice the life of one for his prey. While he held his cover, the wolf sent a brutal Spectral Attack, which nearly gutted the puppet had he not moved out of the way, dragging the wolf with him. He released the now unconscious puppet and hooked his strings to a boulder, he pulled as hard as he could trying to dislodge a part of it.  He managed to get a hard rock and swung it around, the wind whistling at the speed of the stone. A sickening thud resonated across the forest as stone met bone. The last wolf was down. He walked over to it, and held his gloved palms above it, summoning its Core. He was horrified at the damage he had done to the beast. Its Core was fading, it had several broken ribs, a couple shattered bones, a dislocated shoulder, and was bleeding from its mouth. He used his strings to stitch together some of the wolf’s cuts, but the internal damage still needed to be tended to. He held his hands over the wolf’s barely breathing body. He honed in on the Core of the wolf, and released his magic upon it, mending cuts and cracks in it, and making it glow brighter. He knew that if the wolf got up it would almost instinctively attack him. He left the wolf there, to get up on its own. He walked to the tower, and spotted Grim. Grim was one of his closest friends until his core weapon was revealed. He had blades for his, instantly making him one of the most popular of the school. Popularity got to his head, and even now in the second year of the school, the thirteen year-old was still revered. Grim had rejected him after learning about his core weapon, he was cast aside. He held his pale wizard hat down, his eyes lit up when their combat teacher mentioned Core sparring. Core sparring was a type of battle where both opponents used their Core weapons, showing off what they could do. This time he was ready to face Grim.

He stepped in the arena, his strings trailing behind his fingers. Grim had his signature robe on, and a black scarf. His turquoise blades circled behind him. They both lunged into the air for a battle. Grim’s powers and his faith, both were unstoppable and now they came to clash.

Even the sharpest of blades can’t cut a spider’s silk.