Chapter 12: Damage Control

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Damage Control

[WATER!]

The word hit Jared like a slap.

[USE WATER, REX! WATER! ]

"I know!" he yelled.

[THEN USE IT!]

Smoke boiled off the roof in thick black coils. Orange flames licked along the eaves and crawled up the chimney. Jared stood frozen for one more heartbeat, staring at the damage.

Then the back door banged open.

"What is that smell?" Zoey’s voice rang out. "Jared! Something is burning, and if you’ve been messing with the stove again, I swear I’ll..."

She stepped onto the porch, a dish towel in one hand, and looked up.

The towel hit the floor.

"What have you..." She stopped. Her eyes went wide. "Is that our roof? Is our roof on fire?"

"Stay back!" Jared barked, louder and harsher than he meant to. "Get away from the house!"

She didn’t move. She stood there with her mouth open.

’Please move. Please get out of the way. I can’t lose her because of a stupid roof.’

"Ground Dragon!" he shouted, spinning toward the beast. "Water! Aim at the roof, now! Then make it water!"

The dragon’s head snapped up. She planted her feet, opened her jaws, and a massive wave of water exploded from her mouth, clean and heavy, arcing high over the yard and crashing onto the burning shingles. Steam erupted in a hissing white cloud.

"Add ice!" he yelled. "Freeze it!"

A second pulse followed the first. Frost raced across the wet roof, white crystals crawling over the flames, swallowing them whole. The fire sputtered. The crackling faded. In a few seconds, the roof was a glittering, smoking sheet of ice, with a few black patches where the shingles had curled.

Silence settled over the yard.

Water dripped steadily off the eaves.

Jared exhaled. His whole body sagged with relief.

’It’s out.’

[Congratulations. You almost burned down your family home. On your first day.]

’Not now.’

Zoey hadn’t moved. She was staring at the roof, the dragon, and then slowly, at him. There was no anger on her face. He almost would have preferred it. Instead there was something quieter, tired and let down, the look of someone who had expected a little better.

"Zoey," he began. "I can explain..."

"Go inside, Jared."

"I can fix it."

"You’ve done enough for today." She said it flatly, without raising her voice. She stooped, picked up the dish towel, and shook it out. "Go inside."

She turned and walked back into the house.

The screen door clapped shut behind her.

Jared stood there, shoulders slumped, feeling about 3 inches tall.

[Wow. That was brutal. She didn’t even yell. That’s how you know it’s serious.]

’.’

[I’m sorry. I’m just saying.]

’You’re not sorry.’

[No. But I’m enjoying the show.]

He turned slowly to the Ground Dragon. She sat with steam curling off her scales, looking sheepish in a way he hadn’t thought a dragon could. Her head was lowered slightly, and one eye watched him from the corner.

He walked up to her. She lowered her head further, bracing for a scolding.

He didn’t give one.

He reached up and patted her snout, right between the nostrils, where the scales were warm and a little rough.

"It’s fine," he muttered. "You did good. It was my fault."

The dragon let out a soft rumble, low and gentle, a sound almost like a purr. She pressed her snout into his palm for a moment, then withdrew.

[Aww.]

"Don’t."

[That was adorable. A boy and his fire breathing disaster. I might cry.]

"You can’t cry."

[I could simulate it.]

"Please don’t."

He held out his hand. The dragon folded in on herself, shrinking in a swirl of red light until the gem dropped into his palm. He tucked it into the pouch and headed inside, avoiding the kitchen, avoiding the hall, and climbing the stairs as quietly as he could.

In his room, he shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at the floor for a minute. Then he leaned back, rubbed his eyes, and started to think.

’What happened out there?’

The first blasts had been small. Careful. Every one had cost less than 100. But the last one had felt different. Bigger. Hotter. He hadn’t even given a transmutation command. He’d just screamed, and the dragon had answered.

’Was it my rage?’

The idea sat in his head for a while, turning slowly. It made a strange kind of sense. He’d been frustrated, furious, desperate. All of it had poured out of him in one shout. And the dragon had responded in kind.

’Maybe that’s the trigger. Maybe anger unlocks it.’

He frowned.

’No. That’s stupid. I can’t expect to reliably use rage as a trigger. I’d burn down the whole neighborhood.’

He almost laughed. He lay back across the bed, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. The corner of his mouth lifted.

’But it worked. Sort of. I did something big. On my first day.’

He felt genuinely happy. Just a little. For the first time since the hospital, there was something warm sitting in his chest that wasn’t sickness. Progress. He was getting somewhere.

[Your hypothesis is wrong, by the way.]

He sat up fast.

"What?"

[Your theory. The one about rage. It’s very wrong.]

[I had to correct you. I can hear your smugness from here. I can’t have you acting all smug. ]

Jared scowled. "Fine. What’s wrong with it?"

[First of all, congratulations. Truly. You did something remarkable.]

"Thank you."

[Don’t thank me yet. Now the correction. That last flame attack cost almost 1,000 mana.]

Jared blinked. "Almost a thousand?"

[Yes. A little under it. Do you remember the others? The ones before? The wind, the mud, the water? They never went past 100.]

"I remember."

[Now notice what happened after. You used water and ice to put out the fire. How much did those cost?]

He thought about it. "Not much. A few dozen, maybe."

[Exactly. Even though they were the same dragon, the same bond, the same fuel tank. You had 98,000 and change to burn, and you couldn’t make the water or ice cost a thousand.]

"That’s true," Jared said slowly. "But so what?"

[So what?] The panel pulsed. [Oh, Rex. You poor, simple thing.]

"Don’t call me that."

[It fits. I’ll explain. Slowly. Use your fingers if you need to count.]

He crossed his arms and waited. He wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction.

[That’s better. The flame cost almost 1,000 because you channeled raw mana. Straight into the fire. No conversion. No refining. Just power, pure and unfiltered. That’s why it was so hot, and so dangerous.]

"Okay."

[The transmutations, on the other hand, are conversions. They take energy and change it into another form. That’s what they’re supposed to do. But look at what happens when you try to convert a large amount.]

"It doesn’t work."

[It doesn’t. The cost stays small, because you’re only converting a tiny portion. The rest never gets touched.]

Jared’s eyes narrowed. "So I can channel raw mana. That’s the easy part. But I can’t control it enough to convert a big amount."

[Congratulations. You finally got there.]

"That’s why the ice cracked. The water was weak. It wasn’t enough."

[Exactly.]

"So I need to practice converting bigger amounts."

[You need to train your energy conversion. That’s the skill. Control. Precision. Without it, you’re a toddler with a fire hose.]

Jared flopped back onto the pillow, dragging a hand down his face. "And if I don’t, I’ll just be stuck with a regular old dragon that spits fire."

He smiled.

It wasn’t a happy smile exactly. It was the smile of someone who had finally understood the shape of the problem and found it, against all odds, solvable.

[Look at that. You’re catching up. I’m so proud I could burst. Or shut down.]

"You can’t shut down."

[I can dream, can’t I. ]

He grinned and let his head sink into the pillow. For a long moment, the room was quiet.

[But don’t get comfortable.]

His grin faltered.

"What?"

[I said don’t get comfortable. You still have to expend much more than 1,000 mana. A thousand is nothing. A drop. You’re nowhere near the 100,000 you need. Don’t get too pleased with yourself over a small victory.]

"I’m not pleased."

[You’re smiling.]

"It’s a muscle spasm."

[Of course.]

He glared at the ceiling. The panel hovered patiently in the air, glowing, unbothered.

He slept for a bit. Not deeply, just a thin, drifting doze that took the edge off his headache. When he opened his eyes again, the light in the window had turned orange, It wasn’t late enough for dinner, but all that training had finally caught up. His arms ached. His stomach was empty. His head felt like it had been stuffed with warm sand.

’I wonder if I can snack.’

He pushed himself off the bed, stretched until his shoulders popped, and padded down the stairs.

The house was quiet except for a low murmur from the living room. A soft blue glow flickered against the wall. He followed it, and stopped at the doorway.

Zoey sat curled up on the couch with her feet tucked under her, a bowl of crackers balanced on her knee. The TV was on, volume low. She didn’t look up when he came in. She crunched on a cracker, eyes glued to the screen.

He lingered for a moment, unsure if she was still angry.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said, still not looking.

That seemed like a good sign. Or at least a neutral one.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

"A beast master documentary."

"Oh."

"They just did one on that large A rank gate." She reached for another cracker. "I heard Julius was in it. So obviously I had to watch."

Jared stood quietly, letting his memories turn the words over. Documentaries in this world, from what he gathered, were part news, part entertainment, part advertisement. A bit of everything. Footage from real hunts, interviews, ranking charts, and dramatic music. Some were gossip. Some were propaganda. A few were actually informative.

’It might be useful. I could learn something.’

He went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out half a loaf of bread. He tore off a chunk and chewed it as he walked back, then dropped onto the couch beside her, leaving a polite gap.

Zoey glanced at him sideways. She didn’t say anything. But she shifted her bowl a little closer, within reach.

On the screen, a camera swept across a huge, jagged crater in the earth, and an announcer’s voice began to speak.