Chapter 9: Day of Rest
Two weeks had passed since Lev's first summoning, and his hands bore the evidence of his dedication. Calluses had formed across his palms from endless push-ups on rough stone, and his knuckles carried fresh scrapes from balance exercises against the courtyard walls. His morning training routine had intensified beyond recognitionâhe doubles his push-ups, though his arms still trembled with the final five. Same with the sit-ups, his core burning with the effort. The coordination drills that had once left him stumbling now flowed with something approaching competence.
The courtyard behind their apartment building had become his training ground, a patch of worn stone and packed earth that had seen generations of Sapphire children practice their first magical exercises. The morning air carried the scent of baking bread from nearby homes, mingling with the sharp tang of his own sweat as he worked through his routine.
But it was the magical training that truly challenged him.
Each morning after his physical exercises, Lev would sit in the small courtyard behind their apartment building and attempt to wrestle with the unwieldy mass of mana within his core. Other awakened individuals described magic as flowing like water or dancing like flameâresponsive, elegant, intuitive. For Lev, it felt like trying to thread a needle while wearing thick gloves. His very low magical talent meant that every attempt to channel energy was a struggle against his own limitations.
"Focus on the pathways," he muttered to himself, repeating Rav's guidance as he closed his eyes and reached inward. The mana was there, a substantial reservoir within his core, but accessing it felt like trying to move his arm by shifting his entire body. Where others could direct magical energy with precision, Lev had to force it through mental exercises that left him exhausted and frustrated.
The summoning process had improved, slowly but noticeably. What had once taken a few minutes of intense concentration now required only one and a half minutes of slightly less desperate focus. The manifestation of Zelem had become more fluid, less like dragging something into existence and more like... well, still dragging something into existence, but with better technique.
Standing in the familiar courtyard, Lev began the summoning ritual. The magical energy flowed outward, shaped by his will and guided by the bond he'd formed with his skeleton companion. First came the basic structureâbones materializing from wisps of dark energy, then the intricate armor plates, and finally the well-crafted sword at his side.
When the process completed, Zelem stood before him with the same dignified bearing as always, but there were differences now. The skeleton had grown slightly taller over their two weeks together, now reaching just above Lev's hip rather than merely to it. The azure flames in his empty sockets burned brighter, more focused, carrying an intelligence that had sharpened through constant training and companionship.
More impressive still was Zelem's level progression. Through their daily combat exercises, tactical drills, and the skeleton's incredible learning ability, his partner had reached Level 5âa remarkable achievement for such a short time period.
Lev focused his Summoner's Eye on Zelem, and the familiar blue window appeared with updated information:
Skeleton Swordsman "Zelem"
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Rank: Uncommon
Race: Undead Warrior (Undead)
Attributes: Death, Shadow
Level: 5
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An ancient skeletal warrior in masterwork armor, gripping a sword with perfect form. Azure magical fire burns in its eye sockets, and shadows seem to writhe around its form even in the static image. Despite its unsettling appearance, this creature possesses extraordinary potential for growth and adaptation.
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Stats:
Strength: 8 + 5 = 13
Defense: 13 + 7 = 20
Agility: 30 + 13 = 43
Intelligence: 21 + 10 = 31 Wisdom: 17 + 2 = 19
Mana: 18 + 12 = 30
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Abilities:
Swordplay â Skill Rank S, Proficiency C: Master-level combat techniques
Learning â Skill Rank S, Proficiency S: Can acquire new skills at unprecedented rates
Shadow Step â Skill Rank A, Proficiency C: Teleportation through shadows
Death Cut â Skill Rank B, Proficiency D: Necrotic energy-infused blade attacks
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Summon Potential: S
Legendary potential for development.
Skeleton Swordsman [https://i.imgur.com/WXDqE0O.png]
"Good morning, Zelem," Lev said softly, and felt the familiar warmth of acknowledgment through their bond.
Their training routine had evolved into something systematic and comprehensive. Lev would set up obstacle courses using boxes, logs, and whatever else he could scrounge from around the quarter. Zelem would navigate these with increasing speed and precision, his Shadow Step ability allowing him to appear and disappear through patches of darkness with fluid grace.
"Remember," Lev called out as Zelem prepared to begin the course, "speed isn't everything. Use the terrain to your advantage."
The skeleton nodded once, then began. He darted forward with the enhanced agility that had come with his level increases, but instead of simply running the obstacles, he demonstrated the tactical awareness that had grown through their partnership. At the first barrierâa series of wooden boxesâZelem used his Shadow Step to appear on top of the highest one, then immediately dropped into another shadow to emerge behind the next obstacle entirely.
Lev watched with growing satisfaction as his summon completed the course. Zelem's swordplay had improved dramatically as well. The basic combat techniques embedded in his card had evolved through practice into something approaching genuine expertise. His Death Cut ability now charged his blade with dark energy that actually made Lev's magical senses tingle with warning, and his overall combat proficiency had reached a level that impressed even Rav during their occasional group training sessions.
"Excellent work," Lev praised, and felt Zelem's pleasure through their bond. The skeleton's capacity for growth never ceased to amaze him. With S-rank learning potential, Zelem absorbed new concepts and techniques at a rate that made Lev sometimes wonder who was really training whom.
As they finished their morning session, the familiar exhaustion of magical channeling settled over Lev's shoulders. His mana reserves had grown slightly larger over the past two weeks, but they still felt inadequate for the kind of sustained summoning that experienced practitioners took for granted. Every training session left him drained, every summoning required careful attention to his energy levels.
"Time to rest, partner," Lev said, beginning the dismissal process. Zelem stood perfectly still as the magical energy reversed its flow, drawing the skeleton's form back into Lev's core.
As the last traces of Zelem faded from view, Lev wiped sweat from his brow and headed inside. Today was different from their usual routine. Today was the Breathdayâthe day of rest.
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The Gate took on a different atmosphere during the weekly day of rest. Shops closed their doors, the usual bustle of commerce faded to whispered conversations, and families emerged from their daily routines to walk together through the quarter's narrow streets. Children wore their finest clothesâoften still patched and mended, but clean and carefully maintained. Elders who normally kept to their doorways ventured out to greet neighbors and share news.
Lev dressed in his best tunic, a deep blue garment that Rav had carefully preserved from better times. The color brought out his sapphire eyes and carried subtle embroidery around the collarâtraditional patterns that spoke of their people's heritage without drawing unwanted attention from outsiders.
"Ready for the shoul?" Rav asked, emerging from his own room in the formal robes of a community elder. The garments were simple but dignified, dark blue with silver threading that caught the morning light. His prayer book was tucked carefully under one armâa collection of texts and traditions that had been passed down through his family for generations.
Lev nodded, though he couldn't help the familiar twinge of discomfort. The prayers to Magic themselves never moved himâhe'd never felt that connection to the magical essence that Rav described with such reverence. But he loved the songs, the way voices joined together in harmonies that seemed to make the very walls resonate with magical energy. And he loved the community, the way everyone gathered together, sharing news and maintaining the bonds that made their quarter more than just a place to live.
The shoul stood at the heart of the Gate, its modest stone facade belying the sacred space within. Unlike the grand temples that dominated other quarters of the city, this building spoke of a people who had learned to find the magical essence in humble places. The entrance was marked not by towering doors or impressive statuary, but by a simple stone archway inscribed with symbols that told the story of their people's journey through the flows of magic.
Inside, the shoul opened into a single large room with high windows that allowed natural light to illuminate the space throughout the day. Wooden benches arranged in rows faced a raised platform where the community's spiritual leaders would read from their sacred texts and offer guidance about the nature of magic. The walls were lined with bookshelves containing centuries of collected wisdomâmagical treatises, historical records of their people's relationship with magic, and the careful stories that helped maintain their sense of identity across the diaspora.
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The morning service began with the gathering song, voices joining together in harmonies that seemed to make the very walls resonate with magical warmth. Lev had grown up with these melodies, and he found himself joining in despite his usual reluctance. The music was beautiful, carrying the weight of centuriesâsongs that celebrated the concept of magic and had sustained their people through persecution and displacement. He didn't feel the spiritual connection to the magical essence that others seemed to experience, but there was something powerful in the shared experience, in the way voices rose together in defiance of everything that had tried to silence them.
The ancient melodies spoke of exile and return, of magical gifts tested by oppression, of a people who refused to be broken despite attempts to sever their connection to their own Magic. Lev's voice joined the chorus, not because he felt moved by magical inspiration, but because these were the songs of his ancestors, the songs that had kept them alive through the darkest times when their magical heritage was forbidden. The harmonies filled the shoul with warmth, and for a moment, he could almost believe in the power of community to overcome any obstacle.
Rav stepped forward to lead the reading, his voice carrying the authority of his position while remaining warm and accessible. The text he chose spoke of patience, of enduring hardship while maintaining hope for better days. As he read, Lev could see neighbors nodding in recognition, finding comfort in words that had sustained their people through countless generations of struggle.
"We are taught," Rav said, closing the text and addressing the gathered community, "that Magic flows through those who remain faithful to its essence, even in the darkest times. Strength comes not from conquering others, but from preserving what is precious in the face of those who would destroy it. Each of you who maintains our magical traditions, who raises children with pride in their heritage, who shows kindness to neighbors regardless of their backgroundâyou are the true strength of our people and our connection to Magic."
The words settled over the congregation like a blessing, and Lev felt the truth of them in his bones. This community had survived persecution, displacement, and centuries of hardship not through military might or political power, but through the simple determination to remain themselves. Yet as he listened, a small voice in his mind whispered Caleb's words from their confrontationâabout how respect came through strength, not patience. He pushed the thought away, but it lingered like a shadow at the edge of his consciousness.
After the service, the community gathered in the shoul's courtyard for the traditional mealâa simple but carefully prepared spread of bread, cheese, and fruit that honored the bonds they shared as a people. The children played carefully supervised games while their parents discussed business, politics, and the countless small concerns that shaped daily life. Lev found himself drawn to the food, not because of any spiritual significance, but because it was the one day of the week when everyone came together to share what they had.
The meal was a reminder of their resilienceâeven in the poorest times, they had always found ways to celebrate their magical traditions. The bread was fresh from morning ovens, the cheese carefully preserved from better days, the fruit gathered from gardens that had been tended for generations with subtle magical enhancement. It was more than sustenance; it was a declaration that they would not be broken, that they would continue to honor their magical heritage despite everything that had tried to erase it.
Lev spotted his friends near the courtyard's eastern wall sharing news. Doran's parents were deep in conversation with several other families, while Zara stood with her parents, the community's most respected healers, sharing a laugh over some story from the previous week.
"Lev!" Zara called out when she spotted him. "Meet us at the fountain in ten minutes."
Ten minutes later, Lev made his way to their usual spotâa small courtyard near the center of the quarter where three buildings came together to create a natural gathering place. He found his friends already there, sitting around the old fountain in the center. The fountain's water had long since dried up, but its stone basin still served as a convenient seat and meeting place.
The three friends gathered around the old fountainânot functional like the grand displays in the city proper, but a weathered stone basin that had become their traditional meeting spot.
"You look different," Doran said, studying Lev's face. "More... I don't know, serious? Like you've actually been doing something useful instead of just dreaming about it."
Lev glanced around to ensure they had privacy, then nodded. "It's been intense. My summon has reached Level 5 alreadyâthe learning ability is incredible. But my own magical development..." He shook his head ruefully. "I understand now why they call it 'very low' talent. Everything is a struggle."
"Two weeks of training will do that to you," Zara said with a knowing smile. "But you seem... I don't know, more focused. Like you've finally figured out you can't just talk your way to greatness."
"Ouch," Lev said, but he was smiling. "Here I thought you'd be supportive."
"We are supportive," Doran grinned. "Supportively honest. Now stop wallowing and show us this miraculous skeleton you keep bragging about."
"I haven't been braggingâ"
"Show us," Zara interrupted, sensing his hesitation but cutting through it with typical directness.
"Here?" Lev glanced around their usual spot.
"This place is private enough," Doran said, settling more comfortably on the fountain's edge. "No one comes here except us."
Lev began the summoning process in the secluded courtyard, the familiar channeling feeling different with an audienceâmore pressure, but also more purpose.
"By Magic itself," Doran breathed, studying Zelem with obvious fascination.
Zara approached more cautiously, her healer's instincts warring with curiosity. "It doesn't feel malevolent," she said finally. "There's sadness there, loneliness, but not hunger or malice. How does it respond to commands?"
"Watch this," Lev said proudly. "Zelem, show us what you've got !" The skeleton immediately moved to an open area and began a complex series of movementsâdodging invisible barriers, rolling under imaginary obstacles, and finishing with a precise sword draw that he held in perfect form before sheathing the blade again.
"Impressive," Zara murmured. "The coordination is incredible."
"Now watch this," Lev said, and nodded to Zelem. The skeleton darted toward a patch of shadow cast by the wall and dove into the darkness, vanishing completely. A moment later, he emerged from another shadow near the fountain with fluid grace.
"Shadow Step," Lev explained as his friends stared in amazement. "He can teleport through shadows."
"Show off," Doran said, but his tone was impressed. "I have to admit, that's actually pretty amazing. No wonder you've been so insufferably confident lately."
"I haven't been insufferably anything," Lev protested, dismissing Zelem with the same careful process he'd used all morning.
"Right," Zara said with a knowing look. "And I'm sure you had absolutely no ulterior motives when you suggested we meet today to 'catch up.'"
"You're the one who suggested to meet !" Lev grinned. "But yes, maybe I wanted to show off a little. But I also need to figure out how to afford proper training and equipment. Speaking of whichâhow have your own developments been going?"
Zara's face lit up. "My parents helped me find a rare water healing spell. It complements my innate abilities perfectlyâI can channel the spell's power through my natural healing talents."
"Of course you got something perfect," Lev said with mock envy. "Some of us have to figure out how to make our abilities work."
"Says the person with seven card slots and a skeleton that can teleport through shadows," Doran shot back. "My father found me an inventory spellâcreates a pocket dimension for secure storage. Nothing flashy, but it'll help our family business quite a bit."
The three friends shared a comfortable silence for a moment, the familiar rhythm of their friendship settling around them. But Lev could feel the weight of his decision pressing down, and he knew he couldn't put off the real reason he'd wanted to talk to them.
"Actually," he said, his voice growing more serious, "that's what I wanted to talk to you both about. I'm planning to apply to the Summoner's Collegium, and from there, maybe the army. But first, I need to prove myself in actual combat."
"What do you mean?" Zara asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected where this was going.
"There's a tournament tomorrow in the popular districtâsummoner-only competition for beginners. Entry fee is one silver, but prize money goes up to ten silver for the winner."
"One silver?" Doran's eyebrows shot up. "That's a lot for someone who was complaining about being broke five minutes ago."
"It's an investment," Lev replied defensively. "And it's my best chance to prove myself and earn enough to continue training properly. The tournament is specifically designed for newly awakened summoners with uncommon-rank creatures. No rare summons, no experienced professionalsâjust people like me trying to establish themselves."
"What's the format?" Doran asked, his merchant's mind immediately considering the practical details.
"Single elimination bracket, but with safety protocols," Lev explained. "Summons can be dismissed immediately if they take serious damage, and there are healers on staff to handle injuries. It's meant to be a showcase for new talent, not a blood sport."
"And the competition?" Zara pressed.
"That's the unknown factor," Lev admitted. "Could be mostly merchant's children with expensive but inexperienced summons. Could be working-class kids like me who've been training seriously. Could be a mix of both. But my Summoner's Eye will give me an advantage in reading my opponents' creatures, and Zelem's learning ability means he can adapt to new challenges quickly."
The three friends stood in contemplative silence for a moment, weighing the risks and opportunities.
"Well," Doran said finally, "it's either brilliantly strategic or completely insane. Knowing you, probably both." His expression grew more serious. "But honestly? You need the experience, you need the money, and frankly, you can't hide in training forever. Better to test yourself in a controlled environment than be caught off guard later."
"I agree," Zara added, though her tone carried a note of concern. "But promise me you won't do anything stupidly heroic. Your summon may be remarkable, but you're still new to this. Don't let that ego of yours write checks your skeleton can't cash."
"My ego?" Lev protested. "I don't have an ego problem."
"Right," both friends said in unison, then exchanged knowing looks.
"Okay, fine," Lev laughed. "I promise to be smart about this. This is about learning and proving myself, not about showing off. Much."
As the afternoon continued, the three friends discussed strategy, analyzed potential challenges, and shared the kind of detailed planning that had always characterized their friendship. When he was on their way home, many people offered encouragement or advice about Lev's upcoming competition.
Mrs. Hadara, the baker's wife, pressed a small package into his hands. "For tomorrow," she said with a warm smile. "A young warrior needs his strength."
Old Mr. Jorin, the leather worker, clapped him on the shoulder. "Show them what a Sapphire can do, boy. Make us proud."
Lev realized that Rav must have mentioned his tournament plans to the community elders. The support felt overwhelmingâthese people had invested their hopes in his success, and he couldn't let them down.
By the time the day of rest drew to a close, Lev felt the warm satisfaction that came from being truly supported by his community. These people believed in him, had invested their hopes in his success, and would celebrate his victories or comfort him through defeats.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to prove himself worthy of that faith. But tonight, surrounded by the traditions and relationships that had shaped him, Lev felt ready for whatever lay ahead.
The tournament awaited, and with it, his first real test as a summoner.