Super.Dawg
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Chapter 48
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 10:32:10 +0000 UTCThe plant inside the glass looked dead. Blackened leaves curled as if withering mid-scream, its stem like scorched bone. If not for its upright posture, it might’ve been mistaken for a forgotten weed. The enchanted glass case around it flickering every few seconds—more for safety than for display.
Toby stepped closer, raising one hand. He didn’t need to open the case.
"[Dispel Curse]," he whispered.
The effect was subtle at first—like a ripple in air. A veil of shadow lifted from the plant, unraveling strand by invisible strand. The black hue bled away, curling into nothingness. In its place, the Elsha returned to its familiar green, veins dark which was perfectly normal. Healthy and alive.
Boris and Adam, who had backed off earlier, leaned in—faces nearly pressed to the glass now.
“Ohh…” Boris and Adam were impressed at the little magic of Toby.
“It’s like watching a corpse come back to life,” Adam said.
Noa clapped, his grin wide, very happy with the result, “Excellent! Just what we needed. Let’s go meet Rachelle.”
They followed Noa out of the room. As they walked the corridor, Boris exchanged a glance with Adam before hesitantly speaking up.
“Vice Guildmaster… while we’re here, could we meet the Guildmaster too?”
Noa slowed, then chuckled. “I’d love to say yes. But the Guildmaster left on a quest last year—and we haven’t heard from him since.”
Toby blinked. “You lost contact?”
“Is he… still alive?” Boris asked, more carefully now.
Noa’s laughter came easily. “I don’t know if there’s anyone out there who could kill that old man. He’s one of the top adventurers in the entire organization.”
“A pity,” Adam muttered, disappointment on his face.
Only for a moment—just one heartbeat—but Boris caught it: the brief flicker in Noa’s eyes. Not just uncertainty but full of worries.
Something was wrong.
…..
They arrived at the church shortly after. It wasn’t far—just a short walk from the guildhall. The church, made from polished white stone, stood like a living history in the heart of the central district. Its iron gates were open as always. Behind the main structure, several smaller buildings spread out like wings, built from the same white polished stone. Children played in the open courtyards, while a few parents prayed or waited for [Heal] spells to be administered by the clergy.
Noa didn’t lead them into the altar. Instead, he turned around the side of the church to the back. There, located in the shadow of the newer buildings, stood one of the oldest structures—a weathered hall.
A servant in a white cloak stood at its entrance. His eyes flicked to the three students behind Noa, uncertain. “You here to see Rachel?”
“Yes,” Noa said. “We may have a way to help her.”
The servant hesitated, they were not able to heal her not even with the Archbishop's holy skills, he sighed then stepped aside. “Come in.”
As they crossed the threshold, a wave of pressure hit them like a thick wall. It wasn’t just magic—it was something heavier, more primal. A presence that settled into the lungs and tried to squeeze.
“Brace yourselves,” Noa warned. “It’s worse than I expected.”
Adam grunted, leaning forward against the pressure. Noa himself stumbled slightly. But Boris and Toby paused only a moment unsure—but steady. Or perhaps simply able to resist it without even trying.
At the far end of the room, a bed had been dragged from its proper place and left awkwardly near a glowing warded door. A woman lay atop it, drenched in sweat. Her disheveled, light-brown hair veiled her face, but her condition was clear. A white blanket covered her lower body, but parts of it had already turned pitch black. Her hands—blackened, warped, and stiff—looked like the black Elsha plant before.
Toby didn’t need instruction. Noa gave him a glance, and he moved. Standing at the woman’s side, he placed a hand above her and activated his spell.
"[Dispel Curse]"
This wasn’t like before. The corruption over her body thrashed, a shadow refusing to die quietly. It clung, raged, and stretched to anchor itself—but Toby’s magic tore through it. The air itself seemed to sigh in relief as the oppressive pressure lifted, vanishing along with the darkness.
After a few minutes, color returned to the woman’s hands. Her skin—sun-darkened resulted from being exposed in the sun for too long—emerged once more. She stirred.
Noa rushed to her side. “Rachel? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered. She looked older than her years now—thin, eyes sunken, body weakened. Still, she nodded.
“Yes,” she rasped.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I made contact… with him,” she whispered. “He said… it’s more serious than we thought.”
Noa's breath caught. “Goodness. He’s still alive.”
Then, turning to Toby, he gave a smile and ruffled his hair. “You did well. Very well.”
He winked. “I’ll see to your reward—and I’ll make sure there’s a little extra.”
Rachel turned her gaze to Toby, lips moving soundlessly at first. Then a soft whisper: “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, worn thin—nothing but gratitude towards Toby.
…
Boris, Adam, and Toby stepped out of the church into the crisp afternoon air. The heavy atmosphere that had clung to the cursed room behind them was gone, but a quiet tension still lingered between them.
They stopped near the edge of the garden path, far enough from the others to speak in private.
“So your skill can heal?” Boris asked, brow furrowed. He crossed his arms, thinking back. “Kana mentioned we needed a healer.”
Toby nodded slowly. “Yes… but only under certain conditions.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “Conditions?”
Toby looked down at his hand, then back up. “I can somehow heal the unhealable but I cannot heal the healable.. ”
He hesitated before adding, “The ordinary stuff? Cuts, bruises, broken bones—I can’t do anything for those.”
“That’s…” Boris tilted his head. “That’s a strange skill.”
“It is,” Toby agreed. “But it has its uses.”
Boris gave a small nod, already turning the information over in his mind. “I’ll tell Kana.”
….
Suri and Rin stood at the far edge of the academy’s vast training field. It was in the afternoon and there were still students sprinting in tight circles on the track, sweat gleaming on their skin under the sharp eye of a Physical Enhancement instructor. Near the center, a handful of mage-class students exchanged spells in mock duels—flashes of colored light dancing between them in anticipation of the coming annual event tournament.
Rin sat cross-legged in the grass, her expression calm but attentive. Suri remained standing, providing instructions.
“To make sure you don’t get another mana feedback incident,” Suri said, “you need to improve your control—and understand your limits.”
She extended a hand, pointing two fingers toward Rin. A thin shimmer of mana gathered on her fingertips like dew forming on a leaf.
“Can you feel that?” Suri asked.
Rin nodded, wide-eyed. “It feels… like a small wave on the water.”
“That is the proof your class is mana-based. But there are others—strange ones—like Kana. She can sense mana too, probably due to one of her skills, but she can’t use it. Not directly.”
Rin hesitated, pressing her palms to the ground. “I can only access the mana inside me when I activate a skill. I can’t move it around like you do.”
Suri tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then that might be the limitation of your class. Or maybe we just haven’t found the right way to manifest yours.”
She lowered herself beside Rin. “How about we ask for guidance from one of the professors?”
…
Every professor in the academy had their own assigned room. They were smaller than the standard classrooms—cozy spaces meant for one-on-one instruction or specialized guidance for select students.
Suri knocked.
A young man's voice came from inside. “Come in.”
She opened the door to find a lanky man seated behind a cluttered desk. He had high cheekbones, shoulder-length hair tied loosely behind his head, and wearing a blue professor cloak. Papers, old tomes, and several half-melted candles crowded the space. This was Professor Terry, one of the academy’s foremost experts on mana manipulation and the chaotic variance of mage classes—fire, ice, lightning, and a dozen stranger variants fueled by mana.
He glanced up, blinking. “Hmm. I’ve seen you around, haven’t I? But I admit, I don’t know every student by name.”
“Sorry to come without an appointment,” Suri said, stepping inside. “We had a few questions about mana.”
That seemed to brighten him. He set down his quill. “A subject close to my heart. Please, sit. And introduce yourselves.”
“I’m Suri, a first-year copper class. My class is [Illusionist].”
“Rin. Also first-year copper class. My class [Inquisitor].”
Professor Terry raised an eyebrow, visibly intrigued. “Two rare classes. Very rare indeed. So—what’s your question about mana?”
“It’s about Rin,” Suri said. “She experienced a mana feedback incident, and I’ve been trying to help her avoid another one. I’ve discovered a method to manipulate mana directly—but I’m not sure how to teach it to her.”
Terry laughed softly, not unkindly. “You’re a good friend, Suri. But I have to tell you the truth—you and I can’t teach her how to manipulate mana.”
Suri blinked. “Why not?”
“Because what you’re doing is part of your skill. A rare one. Manipulating raw mana without a conduit—like a spell or an item—isn’t something most people can do. Not even most mages. I certainly can’t.”
He leaned forward slightly, tone more serious. “If Rin can’t do it naturally, then she likely doesn’t have the skill either. What she can do is learn how to measure her mana. Track it. Understand her thresholds. That’s the first step to preventing feedback and it must be done under close observation.”
He folded his hands. “I’d suggest she enroll in my class—Forms of Mana. It will help her progress. No promises, but it might just keep her from burning out.”
“Interesting! I will join as well.” Suri grinned. She played it off as casual curiosity, but the truth was simpler: she didn’t want Rin sitting alone in a room full of higher-ranked students. Copper class always felt like shadows among sunlight—present, but never quite welcomed.
