Chapter 172: Good day

Chapter 172: Good day

Blake learned a considerable amount over the next twelve hours. First, he'd made his old constructs...very stupidly.

His 'defender' form had taught him just as much from what it couldn't do as what it could. At first it had seemed just vastly superior in every way—it was much bigger and stronger, basically, thicker and obviously more durable.

But it explicitly couldn't have stabbing or slashing parts. It was limited to some form of big brute, smashing or grabbing with whatever version of limb or head it had.

This taught him his other constructs could be made with slashing or piercing parts, and not just wimpy little claws. He could give them sword arms, spears as long as a man, spiked maces and picks.

No wonder they hadn't been able to hurt the damn demon, he realized. He hadn't given them any weapons! If it hadn't been for the innate power of the Arcanes, and the height of the pit that eventually killed the thing, Blake would have died in that room. And it would have been his own damn fault.

When his twelve hours were up he was completely mana drained and exhausted, still Meditating and just wishing he had more time. More or less he'd been playing battle bots with himself, sending temporary construct against temporary construct over and over before Meditating and doing it again.

But he hadn't tried team fights, flying, more 'animal' constructs, and a thousand other combinations. Ilya mostly just watched from the wall, sometimes wandering, sometimes playing with 'Bibi'.

"You know it's going to disappear," he told her after she gave it a name. She stared like he was about to...well, kill her kitten. "I could make a permanent one. I just...didn't. He's not alive."

"How do you know," she said, but obviously wasn't too upset. She gave the 'cat' another good pat on its smooth skin, then seemed like she was about to come up with some elaborate goodbye when the thing fell apart and vanished into dust. "Guess that means it's time to sleep," she said with a sigh. "Oh, can you make a bed? Er." She went slightly yellow. "Beds?"

Blake looked at the hard, cold floor and supposed that should have occurred to him. With eight hours he had plenty of time to regain, though, so he drew a little mana from his gem and created a fairly simple, large mattress.

"Yes, yes I can," he grinned, testing to find it at least reasonably soft. But the brain pain of being manaless was real, and he more or less just slumped onto it and closed his eyes. "You don't have to worry," he said. "I won't...bother you. Let's get some sleep."

Ilya sat on the far side of the other mattress, bouncing on it and smiling as she finally settled in. Her robe rode up one shapely leg to reveal there wasn't much underneath. But new Blake was a man of his word. A respectable man of...honor. Or something.

So far at least. He closed his eyes and did his best not to think about kissing and touching her back in her friend's tent, closing a hand around the magic orc stone in his pocket.

"I think we should try to get to my house," she said after a few minutes. "I doubt they're guarding it. And we could hide in the secret alcove, and at least I know some routes to escape there. I...don't know where else to go. I don't think we can trust any of the chiefs."

Blake heard the fear in the girl's voice and turned to face her. "OK. That's what we'll do." He smiled until she met his eyes. "We're going to be alright, Ilya. I promise."

She smiled back, and it wasn't just politeness in her exotic, beautiful eyes, he decided. He hadn't used Mental Influence or tried to trick her, because he truly believed they would survive, and they'd win. All he'd had to do was show her that belief, and she believed too. Because she trusted him.

He decided on a resounding ‘maybe’. There were too many holes in the boards, and the wood was too thin. He could maybe plug them with magic, but the damn orc city was just outside, and they could hear the creatures moving constantly. There was also absolutely nowhere to run if they were found.

"Let's go to your house," he said, focusing on his constructs until they collapsed and vanished.

"I'm not getting used to that," Ilya said, then gestured at her robe and threw up her hands. "I need something...less conspicuous. Could you go first and find me something? There's cloth sellers. Fur. If you can..."

Blake grinned and focused as he created a pre-planned outfit with True Making, hoping it wouldn't be the last.

"Enjoy. But they vanish at midnight," he said, holding out some plain clothes much like she'd worn when they first met. "You’re just like Cinderella."

Ilya shook her head then gestured for Blake to turn around, which he did only slowly and with a wink. Apparently he was getting horny enough just the sounds of her clothes hitting the floor was enough to get him going, and he let out as much thirst as he could with a deep sigh.

"And what's Cinderella?" Ilya said, stepping up beside him as she tied back her hair.

"Human princess," Blake said, inspecting his handiwork with pride.

"And she wore common rags like these?" Ilya stared, obviously far less impressed.

"No, not the...nevermind. Are you ready? Remember—if we're challenged, don't run, don't make a scene, just stop and do what they..."

"And you'll control their minds, I know." She sighed. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm allied with a human mind mage. My father would turn in his grave."

Her tone was light at first, but darkened as she spoke of her dead father. Blake took her arm and have it a squeeze, pulling up his hood.

"Let's go end the monster that put him there."

Ilya nodded, then Blake opened just enough of the boards with Telekinesis for them to stroll on through, like they were just out for a pleasant walk.

A homeless orc sat right outside, staring as Blake hovered the boards in the air as he and Ilya passed. The orc gaped with an open mouth, broken tusks hanging as his eyes went back and forth between Blake and Ilya.

"Good day," Blake said, taking Ilya forward without hurry. Then he put all the boards back where they'd been, floating them Fantasia style as he walked off without another word.