Chapter 21: Rubble Therapy

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Rubble Therapy

Jared had his hand on the door handle. He could hear the faint, muffled sound of Zoey moving around upstairs, a drawer slamming, and a broken sob that she was clearly trying to hide.

He took his hand off the handle.

’If I go in there, I’ll say something stupid.’

He knew himself. He would stand in the hallway and start explaining, and every sentence would make it worse. He’d say it was a test. He’d say he hadn’t meant it. He would say it in his ever defensive voice, the one that sounded like an excuse even when it was the truth. His voice of denial.

’She doesn’t want an explanation. She wants space.’

So he turned around, walked back down the steps, and started to pace.

He circled the house slowly. Around the corner, past the front gate, then back again.

He passed the same spot three times without noticing. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground.

He did another lap. Then another. His thoughts circled like the house. The wave. The squeal. The wall. Her voice, cracking on the word bully. He ran through it again and again, looking for the moment he could have stopped.

He couldn’t find one.

By the next lap, he had worn himself out. Not just physically but mentally as well while he was trying to think of a justification. His feet hurt. His head hurt. The sun had shifted a little in the sky, and the shadows had gotten longer.

’Okay. Enough.’

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

’I messed up. I know I messed up. I’ll apologize properly later, when she’s ready to hear it. Standing in the yard and tearing myself apart isn’t going to fix anything.’

It wasn’t forgiveness. . But a decision, and decisions had weight. He stopped thinking so much about it. He pushed it to the back of his mind, like a box on a high shelf.

’Do something useful.’

[Look at that. A plan.]

"Mana," Jared said.

[Mana: 99,660]

He nodded slowly. He still hadn’t done anything even close to productive with it all day.

’I need to test my limits. I need to push.’

He glanced down at the pouch at his belt. The SwampGorilla’s gem was still tucked in. He wanted to recall it, but he decided not to. Not yet at least.

’Just the Ground Dragon. I want to focus on her.’

The dragon stood at the edge of the ring, calm and patient, watching him with her eyes. He walked over and laid a hand against her warm, rough flank.

"Okay, girl," he said. "Let’s get serious."

He stepped back and stood in the center of the ring, feet planted, arm extended. He thought through the list of transmutations. Water, wind, ice. He’d done all three more than once. They felt natural now, like walking.

’My transmutation with water, wind, and ice seems to be the most stable. They’re consistent. They don’t surprise me.’

[That’s the safe pool. You’ve mastered the shallow end.]

’Then I should try the deep end.’

[Look at you, being brave.]

"Earth," he said aloud. "Let’s try earth."

The dragon raised her head. Her throat glowed orange, and a bright burst of flame roared across the yard. Jared reached, closed his eyes, and thought as hard as he could, stone, stone, solid and heavy and hard.

The flames shuddered.

Something went wrong.

The fire twisted, bulged, and burst into a thousand pieces. A wave of chunks and gravel exploded outward in all directions, hitting the dirt with a rolling crash. Jagged shards of rock bounced off the stone wall. A shower of dust and pebbles rained down across the yard.

Jared stood in the middle of it all, coughing. Some were as small as grains of sand. The whole yard looked like a collapsed quarry.

[Congratulations.]

’Shut up.’

[You made a quarry.]

’It was my first time.’

[Your first time making a quarry. Truly a landmark achievement.]

He waved the dust away, coughing into his sleeve, and stared at the mess.

"Okay," he muttered. "That didn’t work."

[It sort of worked. Technically, it is earth.]

"It’s rubble."

[Rubble is earth with a bad attitude.]

He sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

After a while, the dragon opened her jaws and let out a rough, hacking cough. A scatter of gravel spat out across the dirt, sputtering and unsuccessful. She tried again. More gravel. She shook her head, looking embarrassed.

’She can’t spit it out. She’s trying to convert it , but it won’t work.’

He stood slowly, hands on his hips, and surveyed the damage. For every chunk they broke, there were three more. He was trying to clear the yard but was barely making progress. At this rate, the yard would be a mess forever.

’This isn’t going as intended.’

He bit his lip. There was no way to burn it away. No way to wash it out.

’I need another beast. Something that can handle this.’

The answer arrived all at once.

"Yeah," he whispered. "That’ll work."

He reached into the pouch, fingers brushing past warm and cold stones, and pulled out one. It cracked. A sharp smell of metal and chemical heat burst out. Light flared.

Something small stood up in the glow.

It was an ant. An upright ant, thin and neat, standing on its hind legs with its antennae twitching. It was about the size of Jared’s knee.

He blinked.

"That’s it?"

Jared wasn’t impressed with it’s size at all

[AntBeast (SSS Rank). Starting size can sometimes be inconsistent.]

"Inconsistent."

[Yes. Sometimes it starts at a hundred feet. Sometimes it starts at knee height. It’s a character trait.]

Jared looked down at the ant. The ant looked up at him. It waved one antenna in a polite, cheerful greeting.

"Oh," he said, and he smiled.

He couldn’t help it. It was such a small, silly thing, a pocket sized creature with the power to level a city, waving at him like a shopkeeper. It made something in his chest unclench.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "I’ve got a job for you."

He pointed at the rubble.

The ant turned, looked at the mess, and its antennae drooped. Then it seemed to square its tiny shoulders. It scuttled forward on its hind legs, bent over the nearest rock, and started to chew.

The rock vanished in seconds.

It moved to the next one, and the next. Pebbles, boulders, shards of gravel, it ate them all with quiet efficiency, its belly swelling slightly with each bite. Its body gave off a faint hum. A tiny, contented gurgle came from somewhere inside it.

"It’s handling it," Jared murmured.

[Of course it is. It’s a living recycling plant.]

He watched for a minute, then turned back to the center of the yard and flexed his fingers.

’Okay. While it works, let’s try something else.’

His eyes narrowed. He had been thinking about it for a while, ever since the yard went quiet. A different kind of element. A fast one. A bright, sharp, crackling one.

"Lightning," he said.

[Ambitious.]

"I want to see if I can do it."

[You couldn’t control a pile of rocks.]

"That’s why I need practice."

The dragon spat a thin, bright bolt of flame, and Jared pushed the thought through the bond, quick and sharp, lightning, lightning, crackle and speed.

The fire flickered.

A tiny white spark jumped through it. A sharp crack split the air. A bolt of blue white light shot out of the flames,.

"Whoa!"

He dove sideways, covering his head.

’That’s bad. That’s very bad. I can’t control the direction.’

He got up, brushed himself off, and tried again. The bolt went the wrong way. He tried a third time. It fizzled out. A fourth time, and it exploded in a shower of sparks directly over the dragon’s head. She flinched and gave him a long, dark look.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry. Sorry."

He tried for an hour.

He tried standing differently. He tried closing his eyes. He tried whispering, shouting, thinking in different rhythms. Some bolts fizzled. Some veered left. One looped around the tree, struck the ground behind him, and left a smoking crater.

The ant kept eating, calm and oblivious, a small figure in a spreading cloud of dust and smoke.

Nothing worked.

[Do you want a hint?]

"No."

[It’s an excellent hint.]

"I said no."

[Fine. I’ll just watch you suffer. It’s more entertaining.]

By the time the ant had finished clearing the last pebble from the yard, Jared’s arms hung limp at his sides. He gave up on lightning with a long, ragged sigh. The ant trotted over and sat down at his feet, swollen and smug, then curled into a ball and dropped into his open hand as a gem. He slipped it back into the pouch.

The yard was clean again. Scorched and bare and ruined, but clean.

He stood there, panting, and looked around.

’This isn’t working. The house isn’t the right place.’

The walls were too close. The windows were too close. There was no room to make mistakes. Every failure came with a risk of breaking something, and he’d already broken enough for one day.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

’Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll try the city wilds.’

It was the obvious answer. The perfect place to train. Open space, weak beasts, no neighbors. But as soon as the thought formed, another one cut in behind it.

’I was in that documentary.’

He’d been named on national television. His face was probably floating around half the city by now. If he went to the wilds, people would recognize him. They’d stare. They’d whisper. They’d point at the boy with the SSS rank Ground Dragon.

And worse, they’d monitor him. Guild scouts. Association officials. Other rookies who wanted to size up the competition.

’I don’t want that baggage.’

He stood still for a moment, jaw tight.

Then he gave up. He turned toward the house, shoulders slumped, ready to go in and rest for the day. He’d made little progress. No breakthroughs. Nothing but a pile of rocks and a very angry sister.

He took a step.

Then he stopped.

He stood there for a long moment, quiet and sudden, a thought that felt like standing at the edge of a pool.

He took a step back.

He turned around.

"Let’s try something different this time," he said.