22
Growth and Progress

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Beatrice,
The Painted World of Ariamis

Thomas was busy doing crunches when Beatrice saw him next. It wasn't because he was particularly a gym buff, mind. Back in the real world, he had been… inconsistent… with his workouts at his home, doing various little exercises more when he felt it would be convenient, which wasn't that frequent. But here, in the Painting, where all he had to do was wait, he saw no reason to put it off. Besides, as he reasoned to himself, this would be an excellent opportunity to determine his maximal stamina output, as well as potentially increase his Strength without using any of the Souls he had also been farming. "117," he grunted. "118… 119…. One… Twenty…" Upon hitting this, Thomas fell backward, panting, as he was unable to crunch any further. Mentally, he compared it with his records in other exercises here as compared to back on Earth. "Okay… Seems like my overall endurance has tripled in my undead state."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Beatrice asked, startling the sorcerer.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sneak up on me, but to answer your question, exactly that." Holding up fingers, Thomas started rattling statistics. "Back on Earth, the maximum number of crunches I could do was 40. Most pushups, 17. Most chin-ups, 13. As an undead, those numbers have tripled. 120 crunches, 51 pushups, 39 chin-ups. Probably child's play to anyone who bothered working out consistently on Earth. Whether these numbers are because I have gotten stronger as a whole, because of my undead physique, or a combination of the two is unclear, but this does explain why I've been lasting longer than I normally would have."

"I… see…" Beatrice commented slowly, dryly. "And the reason for you doing all this while not wearing armor is because…?"

His face turning a shade redder than usual, his first action was to slightly shift his body away from view. "How can I know the true limitations of my actual body if I have the weight of armor impeding my overall ability? I intend to perform further tests with heavier loadouts to see how my endurance is further penalized, but I need to have a base point to reference, first, you know." After a lack of comment from Beatrice, Thomas sat up, equipping his sorcerer pants as he did this. "So, what are you over here for, may I ask?"

"As you know, I know you from your future. Comparatively speaking, you are almost hopelessly green in a lot of ways. But the Thomas I know is far more proven with a much more extensive history of experience. This proves, if absolutely nothing else, that you are teachable. I can work with that. Ironically, you're ahead of me in what the first step is."

"Which is…" Thomas cocked his head to the side slightly.

"We need," Beatrice concluded, "to find your "base point of reference." What you've learned and achieved of your own right, as opposed to what you merely borrowed from your memories in your world."

Thomas folded his hands behind his back, pacing slightly with eyes cast downward. "I see. Deferring to your superior experience and knowledge in this affair, how do you propose we do so?"

"Oh," Beatrice chuckled slightly. "It's quite simple, really. Trials, tribulations, and growth through failure." With this, Beatrice unleashed her first attack; a massive bolt of Soul Energy, towards her new apprentice. In retrospect, the move wasn't entirely sporting of her, as it blasted his head clean off before he had much time to react, but the look on his face was just priceless. "Lesson one," she told him when he emerged from the bonfire. "Always be prepared for your opponent to take the first shot, and don't expect it to be fairly taken."

Thomas's response was swift. When he held his catalyst in hand, Beatrice wondered in bemusement if he had developed any of the sorceries she was familiar with him using by this point, raising an eyebrow when he went to swing his catalyst as though it were a hammer. The Soul Whip formed at the end as he swung, and if it weren't for her familiarity with his spell, she would have had no time to counter, dodging to the side as the rope of energy sizzled into the ground, before fading entirely. "Hm. So you have that one already. But if your swing is anything to go by, you're not used to people predicting this spell. Perhaps you rely on people not knowing what spells you have?" Flicking her wrist, she cast out her own tendril of energy, cracking against his hand. While the boy did yelp in pain, he at least managed to keep a grip on his staff. She could respect that. "You should know we've worked together for too long for me not to be aware of your tricks. Try again." Another swung whip. That irked Beatrice. "Or, perhaps… Cast a Soul Arrow. Doesn't matter what kind, just do it against the wall over there."

Frowning, Thomas cast, catalyst raised into the air as the energy gathered around his fist, and then fired forward. "All right," Thomas said. "Now…" his voice trailed off as Beatrice gave a disappointed sigh."

"It's probably to be expected," the heretical witch acquiesced, pinching her nose in her fingers, "but you're making the same mistakes as other novice casters. Let me show you a different Logic."

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Kirk,
The Undead Parish

Emerging from Darkness, his target in front of him. They tried to fight back but he was stronger. Breaking their guard, he struck, draining their Humanity. As he did, he had flashes: Their hopes, their dreams, their very souls and memories. He was taking everything that they were, shattering it in his hand. Everything they were was no more. This person was just another Hollow for the pile.

Kirk woke with a start, startling Oscar, who had watch while everyone else rested. Silence, save for bonfire. Save for the ping… Ping…. Ping… of Andre's hammer below. "You okay there?" Oscar asked, getting up.

Kirk waved it away. "Bad dream." Worse memories, he thought to himself. Taking his helmet in his hands, Kirk looked at the spiked "face" of the helmet, his eyes dark. Oscar sat near the former Darkwraith, though not too close. Noting this, Kirk gave a light scoff. It was probably to be expected, that nobody would truly trust him. He had made quite the name for himself while under Kaathe's "wing".

"Want to talk about it?" Oscar asked quietly. "Don't have to if you don't want to, but we all have our, ahem, demons to slay, as the expression goes."

Kirk's response was to give a brief chuckle, before rising, placing his helmet over his head. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. But not today. Today we push forward." Nodding in agreement, Oscar assisted with waking up the rest of the group.

As the party ascended the damnable fortress, watching for traps at any turn, Kirk once again cursed the insanity of the being known as "Sen" who designed the place. If he had his way, the entire place would be burned to the ground. But for now, it would have to do. Priscilla was an advantage this place hadn't accounted for, however. Her scythe was sharp, providing a more than suitable counter against the pendulums that swept over the narrow passageways. A single stroke, and a great cacophony would greet them as the severed slab of raw iron descended, falling into the pits below. Finally making their way outside, Rhea spoke, blinking in the sunlight. "Many thanks, Lady Priscilla. T'would be most troublesome navigating without thee."

Accepting the praise with a silent nod and shy smile, Priscilla pointed. "There. Just past this ledge. There be'th a bonfire, awaiting alightment."

Laurentius scoffed. "What kind of fools do you take us for, exactly?"

"Bigger than you realize," Kirk grumbled, before pushing past Laurentius, not minding that his barbed shoulder added an extra emphasis to his displeasure, before hopping down, and alighting the bonfire that rested below. As he kindled the flame, using the Rite of Kindling procured by his father in the past, he could sense the palpable relief of his comrades. "So. Shall we rest here a moment? Or shall we carry on?"

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Thomas,
The Painted World of Ariamis

Channeling the sorcery within him, Thomas gave a swift flick with his catalyst, and a Soul Arrow fired from the end. It felt more natural. As Beatrice taught, his sorcerous tool felt more like an extension of his own mind, his own will. "I'd like to think I'm getting a hang of this."

"Right," Beatrice confirmed. "Now, what do you take away from this?"

He pondered, frowning in concentration. "That… the catalyst isn't where the spell comes from?"

"Yes."

"Hm… Then perhaps in theory, it's likely the same is true for miracles and pyromancy as well."

Beatrice's response was only to shrug. "I only know sorcery, so my thoughts on the other magicks are neither here nor there. Perhaps in an applied test, we can-"

"HERETIC," Gwyndolin's voice boomed in, and Thomas scowled.

"Great. We've got this nutjob again.

"Listen well, false prophet," the voice continued, as the god (or at least, his apparition) manifested before them. "Your little bag of vagabonds, assisted by your vile spawn and the wicked half-breed creature-"

"They have names, fuckface," Thomas interjected angrily. "Wait, half-breed… Priscilla's with them?"

"Irrelevant!" Gwyndolin boomed. "They have almost bested the fortress of the Sen, and need but face the golem to pass."

Thomas allowed himself a chuckle, before sitting on the ground. "So what I'm hearing is, you're even more powerless than I thought."

"On the contrary. I seek to break the wills of those poor fools, and for you to watch as they abandon you." A shimmer of distortion in the air, and a screen materialized before them. "Get comfortable. I wish you to observe them breaking."

Thomas merely shook his head. "With that many flags thrown, you're setting yourself up for failure AND embarrassment, but sure. I'll take the seat I'm already taking. Do your worst, unwanted child of a dead god."

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AN: JESUS CHRIST sorry for the delay. Life. That's all I can say right now. Well, that, and that for the longest time I felt like I hit a wall. Hopefully it isn't too obvious where, because I had a flash of inspiration and managed to storm past the wall and finish the fic in a single night after I finally got off my ass. Thanks are to be given to Aurlyn Dawnstone and mlee for beta-reading, and offering critique (as well as occasionally borrowing my own muse to help with an actual book they're writing. Fun fact, a much farther along in the future Thomas is going to be featured. Yep, he's a canonical character now. Not bad for a shitty self-insert. Anyways, onto answering reviews.

Thedudeist: Yeah people have figured out Thomas is the Watcher, but I have another twist involving the Watcher. Let's put it this way: The Watcher is also NOT Thomas. Time travel is fucky. And no, Thomas is going to get with Quelaag. He's not about to cheat on his future wife and risk not having his future kids save his sorry ass.

Echo: I discussed this with SupremeGamer, actually, and the idea seemed cool, but as they are, both stories are really better off separately. I might, if I get permission, feature a cameo scene like I did earlier in the fic that would ultimately contribute nothing to the story (like the bit with Oroboro. That won't mean anything. Or will it?), but that's about it.

Dazac: You know what, that's a good fucking idea. It's going in. Spoilers.

Noscopeabomb: Geeze dude. Almost tempted to throw a at you. Like holy shit that was a lot of support. Seriously, I appreciate it. Also I'm pretty sure you mean Mildred by the sink shitting, so I'll just say "she"

tylermech66: Yeah, I get what you mean about 2. It feels… marshmallowy, if you get what I mean. I've been playing other games though, recently. Monster Hunter: World, Destiny 2, to name a couple. Thomas may, MAY get ported over there into one of those worlds, after some other, prescheduled stops, including a visit with a celestial emissary from beyond the stars… And yeah, I really can't think of much for Thomas to do inside the painting. He's already looted the place dry, farmed a few levels offscreen (I mean do you really want to watch as he Chaos Storm's the same phalanx group a bajillion times or two?), and apart from checking his physical capabilities versus his mortal body, which I've done here, I really couldn't think of anything. At this point, I'm open to suggestions, but I will say this; at this point, Thomas would not be out of character swinging his sword around in open air attempting combat maneuvers against a shadowboxing enemy, and only cementing errors because he's training alone.

theawsomest5, Wanderer of Fortuna, atchoum35: Thanks! I was trying my best with Priscilla. And you raise a good point, Fortuna. With her stealth, and a lack of snow to give away her position, she's going to seem like an unstoppable menace to the Darkmoon Blades. But our trap-boy has other tricks up his sleeve, trust me. He's far from done yet. They'll face more than mere Darkmoon Blades.

Billyyumyum2x4: Yeah that's an error I'll have to correct sometime. I intend to go over previous chapters, remove some cringe, edit out some continuity errors (I've ditched the Pharis romance plot point, but may salvage it as an unrequited thing, perhaps, to make an example). But I'm going to prioritize the progress of the fic first.

Anyways. As Thomas has become more advanced in his spellcraft, I'm open to more advanced sorcery suggestions. Leave your suggestions below!