Halo: Magicka

A/N: My bad for the lack of updates guys, I contracted Covid and was knocked out for a solid 2 and a half weeks. Then I went through a break up. Life jus sucks sometimes and I didn't have a lot of motivation to be honest. Thankfully, the arc is nearly done so I will be taking a break after this second arc is finished.

P*treon: /Djini

Anyway, On with the story lol

....

The Next Day aboard the UNSC Hopeful,

The sterile lights of the UNSC Hopeful flickered above as I walked through the corridors, my boots making soft echoes against the metal floors. The ship was buzzing with activity; it felt like every medic and officer aboard was preparing for this like it was the last thing they'd do.

I could hear the low hum of conversations, the clinking of armour pieces being adjusted, and the distant sound of alarms being tested. Everyone knew this was it. This was the moment when things would either shift in our favour, or we'd be facing a battle on multiple fronts.

Jon walked beside me, his eyes scanning the hallways as we made our way toward the briefing room. His usual cocky grin was absent, replaced by a rare seriousness. We had both seen what happened when things went wrong and while we were prepared for whatever came next, there was a weight to the air that made it hard to breathe.

"Think ONI will actually play nice?" he asked, breaking the silence.

I shrugged, "We'll find out soon enough. The simulations say they'll take the deal, but it's ONI. They don't ever act like anyone's friend."

"You don't say?" Jon smirked, though it was more for show than anything.

He could feel the tension too.

We arrived at the longest corridor I'd ever seen, where Kurt was already waiting, his posture as rigid as ever. He was standing, leaning on the wall,

"Beta Company," Kurt greeted us looking up, his voice calm but with an edge that hinted at the weight of the upcoming negotiations, "If you survive this, you will all become full-fledged Spartans. It has been an honour to oversee your training over all these years... Good luck and I'll see you on the other side."

We all saluted as all 300 of us passed him by, his gaze lingering on my team and that of Jon's for a fraction longer. Taking the first available rooms, we all moved into our respective medical spaces.

Inside, the sterile scent of the med bay hit me immediately. The soft hum of equipment and the faint beeping of machines filled the silence.

I sat down in the medical bed, the cold metal pressing against my skin. A few a doctor and a technician came forward to begin their pre-deployment checks, their faces serious, their movements efficient. This wasn't a routine medical checkup—this was the last step before we were sent out to fight.

The first needle slid into my arm, and I felt a slight sting, followed by the familiar rush of chemicals coursing through my veins. It was cold at first, but then a warmth spread throughout my body. The enhancements would take hold, and my body would adjust in a matter of hours. But as always, I was left with the strange feeling that something—something deep inside—was changing.

Now was the time to act, before long I could feel my body becoming sluggish, my eyes getting heavier.

[Astral Projection]

I felt my soul leave my current vessel, this wasn't the first time - I'd just unlocked the mysticism spell on getting to the Adept Rank and had a couple of days to get used to the feeling while I worked out the kinks of the spell.

Watching the doctor and the technician start injecting the rest of the tubes into specific sections of my body, I winced. Yeah, I definitely wouldn't want to have undergone this process awake.

Once they had finished setting up the entire process, I watched them walk out. Perfect, I could now do what needs to be done.

[Remote Manipulation]

I flooded the tubes with the entirety of the drugs, emptying the vials. Feeling 1/10th of my magicka drain, I sighed at the drawbacks of astral projecting. If it wasn't so draining to cast spells in this form, I wouldn't have even had to expose myself, I could've just let them think it was a system error and God's miracle that it worked out.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Sighing as I noted my body's vital signs become worrying I opened my palms out towards my body,

[Rejuvenate]

As I channelled the spell, my connection with my body seemed to sharpen, even though I was technically no longer in it. The warmth that had initially spread through my body surged again, but this time it was smoother and more controlled. The mix of restorative energy and the drugs began to blend seamlessly, easing the strain on my body and accelerating the effects of the injections. It was a delicate balancing act, one I was barely able to maintain in my astral form.

See Restoration isn't just about "healing", it encompassed so much more than that and I had a deeper understanding of it than most.

Apart from that, [Astral Projection] wasn't a perfect solution. In fact, it was an exhausting process—focusing both on maintaining my physical body and dealing with the lingering effects of the drugs was already pushing my limits. Every inch of my soul pulled tighter to my physical vessel, tethered by the spell's fragile connection. The fact that I had to manage the entire process while unconscious, floating outside of myself, made it all the more difficult.

I could feel my muscles and organs stirring, slowly knitting themselves together as I pushed the [Rejuvenate] spell's energy through them. The changes brought on by the drugs had to be more than just tolerated—they had to be absorbed, fully integrated into my system. If I wasn't careful, it could all go south quickly. I saw my body transform almost magically in front of me.

What the hell? Is this character customisation? It seemed like I had a fraction of a second to decide on some outcomes so without further ado I manipulated some of the outcomes...

Height, 7'3. Tick.

Ahem... Length, 10 inches.

Err...Girth, 6 inches.

Ahhh. Perfection.

The feeling of pressure on my soul started to ease as the changes began to solidify. The distant sluggishness of my body faded, the heavy sensation in my body's eyes clearing up. The rejuvenation spell did more than heal—it stabilized my body and allowed it to adapt without rejecting the foreign substances flooding through my bloodstream. I also made sure to reject any side-effects that came with the drugs such as a low libido. Slowly, I felt the numbing fog lifting, the clarity returning.

I took a long, deep breath if that even counts in this soul form. I could feel the spell dissipating, the lingering effects of the drugs fully integrated into my body now. My physical form was back to normal—or at least it would be when I awoke.

I began to retract my soul back into my body, the process slow and deliberate. The weight of my physical form tugged at me as I descended back into it. The disorientation was brief but intense. The initial rush of returning was always overwhelming, but within a few moments, I was back in control, my senses adjusting to the world around me as I opened my eyes.

I blinked, eyes still slightly hazy from the aftermath of the spell.

"Someone turn the goddamn lights off!" I yelled as I remotely manipulated the switch to dim the room. The sharp fluorescents that had been blinding just moments ago now felt like an extreme annoyance. My vision cleared as my senses began recalibrating, but I could already feel the difference.

Everything felt sharper, more defined. I could hear the hum of the medical machines with newfound clarity, the tiny mechanical whirs and clicks that were once background noise now almost like having a speaker next to your ear.

My body felt... heavy, yet light at the same time. The muscles in my arms, my chest, my legs—everything was tighter, more responsive. The changes were immediate and almost overwhelming. Each movement felt smoother and more fluid, but there was a rawness to it as well like a piece of machinery just oiled and primed for action. It was the kind of strength I could feel under my skin but hadn't fully grasped yet. My limbs, now taller and more defined, stretched beneath me as I sat up in the medical bed.

I rolled my shoulder, testing the flex of the muscles, and was met with a new level of ease. The stiffness that had once plagued me during the earlier training sessions seemed to be gone. My fingers clenched into a fist, and I could feel the subtle crackle of energy coursing through my knuckles. Magic, too, had settled deeper within me, its presence as natural as breathing.

The oddest sensation, however, was the way my senses seemed to work in concert. I could pick up the faintest shifts in the air around me, the subtle vibrations of the building as if the entire structure were an extension of myself. Every breath felt as if I were drawing in air to breathe fire in the next moment. My skin, too, felt more sensitive, as though I could feel the subtle heat of the air against it in ways I hadn't before. My heartbeat sounded louder in my ears, almost perfectly in tune with my thoughts.

I moved slowly, carefully, placing my feet on the cold floor. The chill of it felt different against my skin now—every inch of contact with the ground was more pronounced as if I could feel every grain of dust that clung to the surface.

I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. The air tasted different—fresher, somehow. It was strange to be so attuned to every little thing, but as unsettling as it was, there was also an undeniable thrill. I felt like a different person, even though I knew I was still the same Eli.

Standing up, it felt strange like I was in some sort of mech rather than in my own body - this was going to take some getting used to.

Taking another deep breath, I cast [Pacification] and [Heroism] on myself, allowing me to pretend that I was all okay for the time being, physical therapy can come later - for now, I had a job to do.

As I moved to open the door, it abruptly swung open - doctors and technicians rushing in. Not having the patience to deal with them I uttered a single word,

"Sleep," abruptly they all fell to the ground - having the best sleep that they'd probably gotten in a long while.

Moving to the room opposite me, I began getting to work,

[Remote Manipulation]

[Rejuvenate]

Again, I moved to the next remote and continued the process, the first patient probably waking up in the next few minutes.

[Remote Manipulation]

[Rejuvenate]

I continued until I reached my brother's room.

[Remote Manipulation]

[Rejuvenate]

Oo, we have some leeway here as well. Let's see... Oh, I'm going to piss him off.

Height, 6'11. Hehehehe, I laughed as I fixed his height to ever so slightly smaller than 7'. To make up for it though... should I bless him? Or is that too weird?

Eh, I'll bless him but I will never have this conversation with him and he will never need to know. I'm literally Batman. Of course, not blessed to the same degree as me but still sizeable, one has to keep contingency plans in case he tries to pull some silly talk. Anyway, moving on.

....

35 minutes later, amidst the sounding of sirens throughout the corridor,

And that is the final Spartan of Beta Company... successful. Neat, huh?

The air in the corridor was thick with tension, the flashing red lights of the emergency sirens bathing everything in an ominous glow. Medics and technicians lay asleep in the corridor, all courtesy of yours truly.

Jon was leaning against a nearby wall, still shirtless, his form gleaming with sweat and faint traces of surgical gel. His head snapped up the moment he saw me, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"You look… terrifying," he said bluntly.

I smirked, rolling my shoulders and flexing my fingers. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Jon."

"Wasn't trying to flatter you, jackass," he said, pushing himself off the wall and walking over. His gait was confident, and controlled, but I could tell he was still adjusting—still processing his own transformation. "You feel it, right? Everything's… louder. Sharper. Like the world's a glass pane and we're walking on top of it."

"Yeah," I replied, glancing down at my hands, faint wisps of residual mana still flickering along my fingertips. "But we're not walking on it, Jon. We're living it."

The sirens abruptly cut off, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. A sharp, authoritative voice boomed over the comms:

"All Beta Company Spartans are to report to Assembly Hall C in fifteen minutes. Repeat: Assembly Hall C, fifteen minutes."

Jon and I exchanged a glance before nodding silently. The time for reflection was over—answers, orders, and the next chapter of our lives awaited us in that hall.

As we walked down the corridor barely clothed together, shoulder to shoulder, the weight of what had just happened settled heavily in my chest. The enhancements, the risks, the unspoken fears—it all culminated in this moment.

The others were emerging from their bays as well. Hundreds of Spartans, newly reborn, walking in perfect formation. Despite the exhaustion still evident in their eyes, there was an unmistakable fire burning within them.

Jon leaned over slightly as we walked. "So, you think ONI's gonna play nice after all this?"

I let out a dry laugh, "Jon, ONI doesn't do nice. But they'll play smart. And we'll be ready for whatever they throw at us."

Fifteen minutes later, we all stood in the assembly hall, Kurt standing in front of us along with another commanding officer who I identified as Colonel Ackerson, the shadow brain behind the Spartan-III project.

"Whoever is responsible for this phenomenon, step forward!" Ackerson spoke.

I stepped forward and smiled at him. Ackerson nodded,

"The rest of you, please file into Med Corridor 3 for final checkups, Dismissed."

The rest of the company moved as instructed, leaving only me in this assembly hall with two commanding officers.

Great.

Colonel Ackerson's sharp, calculating eyes locked onto me as if dissecting every fibre of my being. Kurt, standing a step behind him, wore a neutral expression, but the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his unease.

I adjusted my posture slightly, squaring my shoulders as I stood tall, hands clasped behind my back. If they wanted answers, they were going to get them—on my terms.

"So you're the anomaly," Ackerson said, his voice smooth, cold, and heavy with authority. He started to circle me slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "The boy who defies every simulation. The prodigy with abilities we can't quantify. Tell me, Spartan—are you aware of just how many protocols you've breached simply by existing like this?"

I met his gaze head-on as he came back into view. "With all due respect, sir, protocols are written to maintain order—not to hinder results."

Kurt's lip twitched slightly, but Ackerson's expression remained stone-cold.

"Results…" Ackerson repeated, nodding faintly as if turning the word over in his mind. "You know, Eli, we built this program with the express purpose of creating weapons. Precision tools to win an unwinnable war. But you…"

He stopped directly in front of me, his face mere inches from mine, "You are something else entirely. And something else makes people nervous."

Deep Winter's voice echoed in my mind briefly. '10% chance they'll panic and try to eliminate you outright.'

I kept my voice steady. "I don't see the UNSC rejecting an asset that can turn the tide of a war."

Ackerson's lip curled into something that was almost—but not quite—a smile. "Oh, make no mistake, son, you're an asset. The question is whether you'll remain ours."

He turned to Kurt, who gave a sharp nod before stepping forward, "Eli, I vouched for you to stand here right now—to have this conversation instead of being stormed by ODSTs and stuffed somewhere deep within ONI R&D. Do not make me regret that decision."

I nodded once, a gesture of both respect and understanding.

"So tell me," Ackerson continued, his tone sharp as glass, "what are you, Eli Howl? What do we call this… phenomenon you've become?"

I took a deep breath, letting the silence linger for a moment. When I spoke, my voice was steady and firm:

"I am a Spartan, sir. Enhanced by your program, guided by my talents, and driven by the same goal as everyone else in this room—to win this war. Apart from that though, I dabble in a bit of.... magic. It's my hobby."

Ackerson stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment, his eyebrow twitching. His piercing gaze searched for weakness, hesitation, or fear—but he found none.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Ackerson's eyebrow twitched again, his lips pressing into a thin, hard line as if he were trying to process whether he'd actually heard me correctly. Behind him, Kurt froze mid-breath, his eyes flicking between the two of us like he was watching a live grenade slowly roll across the floor.

"…Magic," Ackerson repeated flatly, his voice devoid of any inflexion.

"Yes, sir," I said with a small nod, my face as straight as a rifle barrel, "Magic."

Ackerson pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly through gritted teeth. "Ambrose… did he just say magic?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt replied, his voice tight with carefully restrained amusement.

Ackerson's hand dropped, and his sharp, predator-like eyes locked onto me again. "Explain. Now."

"Well, sir," I began, shifting my weight casually. "It's not quite stage magic—no card tricks or pulling rabbits out of helmets. Think of it more like… advanced energy manipulation. Healing, shielding, offensive applications, sensory enhancement—the list goes on. You saw the augmentation results, right? The accelerated integration, the efficiency, the—"

"Enough," Ackerson snapped, holding up a hand. He turned away slightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'This is above my pay grade.'

Kurt cleared his throat. "Colonel, I've seen Eli's… abilities firsthand. They're real. And frankly, sir, they're effective. Whatever he's doing, it's working. His augmentation results speak for themselves."

Ackerson slowly turned back to face me, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else—curiosity, maybe? Or was it suspicion?

"Magic," he said again, testing the word like it was a foreign object in his mouth. "Alright, Spartan Howl, let's say—for the sake of insanity—that I believe you-"

Abruptly I spoke aloud,

"Psychic Motion."

Before long, every object in the room began levitation and doing doughnuts in the air.

"That's enough evidence for me, seems like magic to me sir," Kurt affirmed.

Ackerson froze, his mouth slightly open as he watched the spectacle unfold. Chairs spun lazily in mid-air, datapads performed synchronized loops, and even his officer's cap floated gently above his head before settling back down—perfectly centred.

"Jesus Christ on a bike, it's really magic," he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Kurt crossed his arms and smirked slightly. "Told you, sir. Kid's not bluffing."

I let the objects drift back into place with a casual wave of my hand, everything settling down with a soft clatter and hiss of hydraulic chairs. Ackerson's gaze snapped back to me, and for the first time, there was something else in his eyes—respect, or maybe even fear.

"How long have you… had this?" Ackerson asked, his voice low, almost cautious.

"Since birth, technically. But I've been actively refining it since arriving at Onyx," I replied matter-of-factly. "It's part of who I am, sir. Just like my Spartan training."

Ackerson turned away briefly, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. His mind was spinning; I could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders and the sharpness in his steps.

Kurt spoke up again, his tone softer this time. "Colonel, whatever misgivings you have, one thing's clear—Eli's abilities aren't a risk. They're a resource. You saw the augmentation results, and now you've seen this. He's under control, and more importantly, he's loyal."

Ackerson paused mid-step, glancing back at me. "Loyalty," he repeated slowly. "That's the keyword, isn't it, Spartan Howl?"

I didn't flinch under his gaze. "Sir, I'm here because I believe in this cause. Because I believe we can win. And because, if I have the power to make sure my team—my family—comes home alive, I'll use it. Every time."

For a long moment, Ackerson said nothing. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded.

"Alright, Howl. You've made your case." He pointed a finger at me, "Now you just have to convince the UNSC high command."