Chapter 624: Make Jason Great Again

“This valley would be gorgeous if we could actually see it through the rain,” Jason complained as he looked out the window. The convoy was floating on or just over a rather busy river, with water traffic heading in each direction. The vision-obscuring downpour slowed progress as boats, skimmers and hover vehicles cautiously navigated the waters and each other.

The banks were dangerous to any vehicle with a draft as the river was swollen with the fresh rains. It made the river’s outer reaches a dangerous and murky trap for unwary boats, but freed up space for floating vehicles.

The monsoon rains had continued, with breaks in the weather lasting an hour at most. It was as if the rain, like the people it fell on, had been waiting out the monster surge that went on for far too long. By the time the river trip moved into the second day, Humphrey had pushed the team into training.

The training room did more than provide magically enhanced weights, courtesy of the various materials and quintessence Jason had fed his cloud flask. On top of the weights, the training room could have the gravity enhanced, either across the whole room or in specific sections. The team were acclimatising to this when Jason was approached by Amos Pensinata.

“Time to get started?” Jason asked.

Amos nodded, then immediately walked off.

“I guess it’s aura training for me,” Jason told the others, then followed.

“What exactly did Dawn give you that you’re willing to do this?” Jason asked. “If you don’t mind me prying.”

“Insight,” Amos rumbled. Jason waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming.

“Enlightening,” he said.

“Yes,” Amos agreed.

Amos led Jason to the stairs that went up to the roof deck and stopped.

“I saw you using your aura to deflect the rain.”

“It seemed like a good way to practise.”

“Lazy.”

“Uh, okay. What do you want me doing?”

“You know ritual magic, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Use your aura to draw a ritual circle with the rain. Get it right. Precise.”

“You know I won’t be able to perform a ritual doing it like that, right?”

“You don’t need a ritual. Just need complexity.”

***

Jason was floating just over the roof deck in a meditative pose, completely drenched as rain pounded down on him. He was mentally exhausted after hours of painstaking concentration, which was something he hadn’t experienced in a while. His silver-rank spirit attribute enhanced his mentality in various ways, including focus, concentration and multitasking. All of those had been pushed to the limit by the exercise.

Before undertaking the task from Amos, Jason had been convinced that his aura manipulation skills had been pushed to their limit. He suspected a key purpose of the exercise had been disabusing him of that notion, which it had quite thoroughly done. Using his aura to manipulate physical objects was still something he was getting used to. Shielding an area from the rain wasn’t too taxing, but pulling in small amounts of water and shaping it into an array of lines and sigils very much was. Even going for the simplest ritual circle he knew was like trying to closely observe every bee in a hive simultaneously.

His early attempts had involved the simpler method of creating invisible force moulds with his aura for the water to settle in, but he had given up on that. It felt like not only was he getting more precision by manipulating the water directly, but it was better for developing control. The purpose of the exercise was training, after all. The goal was to improve his skill, not learn to cast rituals using the rain. If nothing else, water made a terrible platform for ritual magic without specialised abilities to support it.

Jason overexerted his concentration over and over again, causing even the basic rain shield to collapse, which was how he ended up soaked to the skin. But after each failure, he took a moment to recentre himself and then started over.

***

Amos gestured to Rufus, who was exercising with Jason's team in the large training room. Rufus was doing a flexibility exercise, which involved swinging across the room while dangling from rings, flipping through the air as he launched from one set of rings to the next. After dropping to the floor, Rufus moved over to speak with him.

“Something I can help you with, Lord Pensinata?”

“You trained Asano.”

“When he first arrived in our world, yes. I gave him his start in adventurer training, primarily in combat techniques. I've also been helping him with combat trances since he came back. My companions taught him in others areas, though. If you want to discuss his early aura training, you should speak with Farrah. She took that portion of his training and is stronger in that area than me, but she’ll freely admit that Jason has moved past us both in that regard.”

“It’s not about his previous training. How hard I can push him before he’ll balk?”

“As in, how much training you can shove him into before he quits?”

Amos nodded.

“I honestly don’t know,” Rufus said. “It’s part of what made me realise early that he was going to be great. He has a voracious appetite for training. However hard I drove him, he was always grateful. He never asked questions about why he needed to train so hard; he kept pushing to get stronger, like any weakness inside him is a poison. So long as he believes that you have a way to push him forward, he’ll take all the pushing you’ve got.”

***

Amos and Clive arrived on the roof deck to find Jason sitting under an orb around which the pounding rain curved. Inside it, he was sat cross-legged, hovering just off the deck. Around him was a floating ritual circle comprised entirely of water. Jason opened his eyes at the arrival of the newcomers who were standing dry under an awning.

“I have to thank you for this, Lord Pensinata. I haven’t felt anything push me this hard in a while. In training, anyway.”

Amos looked at Clive, who peered at Jason’s fake ritual circle.

“That’s pretty close,” Clive said.

“Show me,” Amos rumbled.

Clive pointed with his finger and started drawing a ritual circle with glowing light, overlapping with Jason's own diagram made of water. As he finished, it became evident where Jason's circle had minor imperfections.

“Let me guess,” Jason said. “I have to keep going until you get it right.”

“No,” Amos said. “When you get it right, you pick a harder ritual.”

Jason grinned, and his water circle fell the deck in a series of tiny splashes. Droplets started filtering into the orb instead of around it and started forming a new ritual circle as Jason closed his eyes.

***

Clive yawned as he trudged out onto the roof deck. The rain finally had a proper break as they continued south and the dark sky was lit up with stars. There was still plenty of water sitting on the deck for Jason to float into complex ritual shapes. He’d moved onto a second, slightly more sophisticated ritual after mastering the first.

“Jason, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Check me.”

Clive overlapped Jason’s ritual circle in lines of glowing light, highlighting the many inconsistencies.

“Alright,” Jason said, looking around and mentally noting the problem spots.

“This is the last time, Jason. I’m going to bed.”

“Good night.”

“You should be going to bed as well.”

“We arrive at Cartise tomorrow,” Jason said. “Maybe even overnight. I need to get in my training while I can.”

“Jason, didn’t you say you’re fairly sure that you’ve stopped ageing? You have time?”

“So long as no one kills me, sure. And while I might have forever, I don’t have Lord Pensinata forever. The great thing about a reliable instructor is that you know that so long as you put in the work, you’ll get the results. No luck, no privilege. Just work for reward. There’s a comfort in that reliability.”

“There’s also a comfort in comfort, Jason. I’m going to bed.”

***

The dark did not obscure Jason’s vision as the yacht approached the ruined city of Cartise in the dark. He looked out from the roof deck and was reminded of old pictures of London after the Blitz. Nothing was undamaged and entire blocks of buildings were reduced to chunks of rubble no bigger than a fist.

The old docks had been destroyed, and the remains had been fished-out to prevent obstructions. Jason could see the detritus that hadn't been salvaged for the new docks, piled up further along the shore. The new docks served the Adventure Society camp that had been set up to handle operations in and around the fallen city.

With the rest of the group asleep, it fell to Jason to go meet the dockmaster and secure a berth. Shade appeared and pulled the team’s documentation from his dimensional space, and Jason transferred it to his own. He then took a running leap off the roof deck, sailing over the docks, and landing in a crouch on the shore, next to a stone cottage. He didn’t lighten his fall as that would require calling out his distinctive cloak.

Jason’s mode of arrival did not faze the grizzled man who came out of a stone cottage, which had the distinctive tells of a building hurriedly stone-shaped out of the earth with magic. He was the dockmaster for a camp that was exclusively host to adventurers and Magic Society field agents, so he found Jason’s approach downright tame. His cottage was simple and square, all of a single piece. It had the plain, rough texture of a child’s clay art project. Jason approached the man and handed over the team’s documentation and the dockmaster looked it over.

“Two silver-rank teams and an assortment of gold rankers,” the dockmaster muttered. “We can certainly use that.”

“I only speak for one of the teams, Team Biscuit,” Jason said. “The others you’ll have to arrange with separately.”

“Are you saying they came here where there’s nothing but work and aren’t interested in working?”

“Not at all. I’m just saying that I can’t speak for them,” Jason said. “I’m just a team auxiliary. You won’t catch me going around giving orders to gold rankers.”

In Jason’s shadow, Shade was grateful for his inability to choke as it would have revealed his presence.

“You’re the auxiliary,” the dockmaster said, leafing through the documents. “John Miller, that’s you?”

“It is.”

“Your team feels the need to take around a silver-rank cook?”

“Just between you and me, I have a few other utility tricks up my sleeve. We just keep it quiet to avoid poaching attempts.”

“You’re not open to someone making a better offer?”

“I trust the people I work with. Who can make a better offer than that?”

“That’s a good attitude,” the dockmaster said. “It’s four vehicles?”

“Yeah, the dimensions are listed there.”

“That’s fine. Give me a moment to copy these documents and I’ll find you somewhere to put them.”

***

“John Miller,” Farrah said, pausing with a forkful of pancake. Jason and his companions were sitting around the breakfast table. “We’ve been wondering for days what crazy name you picked for yourself, and you went with John Miller.”

“The point was to not stand out,” Jason said. “That’s a pretty ordinary name, even in this world, right? Vidal, you said it was normal.”

“I did, yes,” Vidal Ladiv said. The Adventure Society liaison was still somewhat nervous around the group, rarely speaking up unless directly addressed.

“We’ve been bugging this guy since we set off to tell us the name,” Belinda complained, “and all he’ll say is that you told him not to tell us.”

“I figured you’d all have some fun with it. I assume you all made guesses.”

“Captain Handsome Boatman,” Neil said.

“Buck Stone, Bounty Hunter,” Belinda guessed.

“Action Fighter,” Travis added. “Or maybe something inappropriately exotic, like Enrico de la Fuente.”

“That doesn’t fit at all,” Sophie said. “I can see him going for that.”

“What about Karl Marx?” Humphrey suggested.

“How do you know about Karl Marx?” Travis asked him.

“Jason and I used to have discussions about aristocracy a lot. This was back before we formed the team. I'm not sure who he is, but Jason seemed very enthused.”

Travis turned to look at Jason.

“You don't seem like much of a socialist, having a massive buffet breakfast on your magic superyacht.”

“Everyone has things they’re good and bad at,” Jason said defensively. “I am a socialist, I’m just… not great at it.”

“Not great?” Farrah asked. “You can create infinite amounts of money.”

“What?” Vidal asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Farrah said. “I was guessing on some name from Earth. Bruce Banner. Bruce Wayne. Bruce McAvaney.”

“You seem obsessed with the name Bruce,” Jason said. “I’m actual Australian, not Monty Python Australian. I didn’t think you’d like Monty Python.”

“What kind of maniac doesn’t like Monty Python?” Farrah asked.

“People who were oppressed by the British,” Jason said. “There’s a woman I know who used to work for my dad, and her dad wouldn’t let her watch any British television growing up. She missed out on Monty Python, the Goodies, Fawlty Towers.”

“Even I’ve seen Fawlty Towers,” Farrah said. “And I’m from another universe.”

“How much Earth culture did you absorb?” Jason asked her.

“You kept going into transformation zones and leaving me twiddling my thumbs.”

“I was saving the world.”

“And I was watching internet videos. The name doesn’t have to be Bruce; there are plenty of other choices. Clark Kent, Ahmet Zappa, Man-E-Faces, Carlos Danger, The Artist Formerly Known as Ringo Starr. Pol Pot.”

“Pol Pot?” Jason exclaimed. “You seriously think I'd go with Pol Pot?”

Farrah continued reeling off guesses.

“Maximilien Robespierre, Rolf Harris, Mother Theresa, Joseph Stalin.”

“Now you’re just listing terrible people,” Jason complained.

“Gonk,” Gary said.

Everyone at the table turned to look at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Gonk?” Rufus asked.

“As a name,” Gary said. “I thought Jason might go for a mononym.”

“And you thought that if I went for just one name,” Jason said, “that the name I’d go for is Gonk?”

“Why not?” Gary asked. “There’s no telling what you’re going to do.”

This drew general nods of agreement around the table, which in turn led to an affronted expression from Jason.

“I was hoping for Manny McManface,” Taika said, “but I thought you'd go with Michael Long.”

“I thought you had it with that one, actually,” Farrah told Taika. “I was sure he’d try for some obscure alias that someone on Earth used where no one would get the reference.”

“Actually,” Taika corrected, “Michael Knight was the alias and Michael Long was his real name.”

Farrah reached out – and up – to put a hand on the shelving unit that was Taika's shoulder.

“Taika,” she told him. “I'm not sure I can fully express the degree to which I do not care.”

“Not all of your many terrible guesses were aliases,” Jason told Farrah. “And John Miller is an alias, thank you very much. And none of you did get the reference.”

“An alias for who?” Farrah asked.

“Oh,” Travis said. “I just figured it out.”