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Tafel glanced at the zombie lying on its side beside her. It was lying on its side because its limbs were still bound by its bandages, and Lindyss had specifically instructed her not to untie them. For some reason, Tafel found it really awkward to ask such a helpless person a question—like asking an old lady for her brisket recipe while she was on the ground and struggling to stand—but the demon was experienced, and it wasn’t her first time being stuck in an awkward situation. “So, how do I operate this weapon?”
“That’s an ampal, an amplification palette,” the zombie said, its voice listless. “It functions like a wand, but it’s more versatile. A wand usually contains a single gem, and it amplifies spells of a certain type or element. With the ampal, you can use spells of multiple types and elements by casting the spell through the corresponding gem.”
“I was going to try that next,” Tafel said. She really was. It wasn’t her fault she was distracted by Lindyss and the zombie and subsequently got called out because she was staring. Her horns glowed red, and she channeled her mana into the ampal. A fireball roared into existence and shot towards a straw dummy, incinerating it upon contact.
“Impressive,” the zombie said. “You’re quite the capable mage. There are some explorers out there who’d have trouble rivaling your output.”
“Really?” Tafel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“In terms of output, yes,” the zombie said, nodding its head. “However, the caliber of a mage is determined by their control over combination spells. With the ampal, you can activate more than one gem at a time. I don’t know the specific mechanics since I’m not a mage myself, but I’ve seen a magician combine the effects of three spells to create a storm of lava.”
“Is that so?” Tafel asked. She glanced around before putting the ampal off to the side. Then, she rummaged through the rest of the items on the ground.
“You’re not going to try a combination spell?” the zombie asked after seeing Tafel inspecting an item that looked like a pan lid.
“In this enclosed area?” Tafel asked. “Do you want to die again?” She held up the pan lid. “What kind of weapon is this?”
“It’s a manaso, a mana solidifier,” the zombie said. “If you pour your mana into it, your mana will solidify. People create circular shapes to use as barriers. Some people create mana blades for whatever reason. If you add an elemental gem to the center of the manaso, you can augment your creation with the properties of the gem. Most people launch spheres of mana through it as a means of attack. Although there’s a limit to the destructiveness of the manaso, it’s a great weapon for beginner mages who’re practicing mana control.”
“Who made these things?” Tafel asked.
“I don’t know, but they were definitely someone who was as interested in engineering magical tools as your companion is interested in creating bodies,” the zombie said and snorted. “Speaking of which, can you tell her to stop making so many strange adjustments?”
Tafel glanced at Lindyss, who was stitching together various body parts. The demon looked away. “I could, but I’d rather not.”
***
Faint murmurs drew Ashley’s attention. She walked down the long hallway’s red carpet, arriving at a massive door. It was constructed with a dark wood, one that Ashley couldn’t identify; after all, who actually cared about what trees were called? Not her. She pushed the door, and when it didn’t budge, her eyes shone white, and her hair fluttered backwards.
The door groaned before creaking open, revealing a large dog and a young child. The dog was white, fluffy, and the size of a house. The child was sitting cross-legged on the ground with an ampal in front of him. They both stared at Ashley as she waltzed into the room and took a seat on the side. “Ignore me,” the Light Lord said. “Just pretend like I’m not here.”
The dog snorted before turning its attention back onto the child. When it noticed the boy was still looking at Ashley, the dog barked at the child, causing him to jump as his hair vibrated from the sound. “Keep going,” the dog said.
The child lowered his head and placed his hands on the ampal. The gems on the palette lit up one by one. Then, they dimmed one by one but in a pattern different than the one created when they shone. After all the gems stopped glowing, the kid grunted, and the gems once again lit up one at a time.
Ashley crossed her arms and crossed one leg over the other. The dog turned its head away from the boy and glared at the Light Lord. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so hostile towards me, Puddles,” Ashley said. “Have you already forgotten how I took care of you?”
“I will never forget the time you threw me into the washing contraption because I rolled around in mud,” the large dog said, baring its teeth.
“And I threw you into the drying contraption afterwards,” Ashley said, her face expressionless. “I don’t understand the problem.”
Pfffft.
A farting sound came out of the ampal, and the boy froze as the Light Lord and white dog shifted their gazes onto him. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he pushed the ampal away from himself, staring at the ground.
“Why’d you stop?” Ashley asked. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. That’s no reason to give up.”
“He’s frightened by you, dimwit,” the giant dog said, its voice practically a growl. “Can’t you see that?” The dog’s tail swept to the side, causing the child to tumble outside the room. “Go home early. I’ll give your dad a discount for today’s lesson.”
The boy nodded before running as if he were being chased by basement-dwelling demons that only appeared after the lights were switched off. The dog turned its attention back onto Ashley. “Speak. What do you want?”
“I need you to do me a favor,” Ashley said.
“Of course, you do,” the giant dog said. “That’s always how it is with you.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Alright, listen. Someone I’m watching is interested in joining your club. Let them.”
“Since you’re the one asking,” the giant dog said and nodded its head, “I refuse. You ruined my puppyhood; I won’t let you ruin my gourmet club too.”
“Don’t be like that, Puddles,” Ashley said, her brow furrowing. “This is for the good of the tower.”
“That’s your excuse every time. I don’t believe it anymore.” The giant dog wrinkled its snout and pointed its nose into the air. “Get lost, or I’ll sneak into your room and pee on your bed.”