“Probably less than you,” the markswoman laughed in response, but still began an extensive explanation of what she knew. “Aside from what’s common knowledge, they really didn’t tell us much, in part ‘cause Fog-breather families were more protective of their secrets than most governments. In many cases, they would intentionally mysticize the foundations of their knowledge to obfuscate the truth even from their own members. From what Makhus told me of his short time in one of these families, you wouldn’t get a forward explanation of how to learn a technique, you’d be given vague illogical instructions and trials until you were either deemed a failure, or just manifested the fully-fledged technique in an epiphany.”

“Makhus was part of a Fog-breather family before the war, huh?” Zel wondered. “Did he tell you that or did you overhear it?”

“I asked what he did before all this shit, so he told me. More upfront about his past than his alchemical theory,” Zef chuckled. “He never did get to learn more than the fundamentals before the draft snatched him up, though I suspect he might’ve just gotten kicked out altogether.”

“Fundamentals…” Zelsys continued to wonder, racking her brain as she followed the thin thread of instinctive understanding through the maze of her pre-existing techniques and her experience in using Fog-breathing. It seemed that techniques, no matter how basic, were somehow involved with the Fog. “I figure the fundamentals of any combat style would be defense and offense. Fog-breathing, then, should be used both to enhance one’s attacks and to protect them in the absence of physical armor.”

“It’d sure be nice if you could figure out how to turn Fog into armor, if you plan on walking around like this,” Zef prodded, both with words and with a finger into Zel’s side.

“Fog into armor, huh?” Zel asked herself, and like that, the seed of an idea began to sprout in her mind. She could already use Fog-breathing to selectively enhance her own physical capabilities, so why not use it to enhance her body’s physical resilience as well?

She stood from the bed, and beckoning for Zef to do the same, said simply, “C’mon, I want to try something real quick. Punch me in the stomach when I say so, full force.”

Zefaris clearly wasn’t at all worried about hurting her lover with a simple punch, and so gladly took up a boxer’s stance in front of Zelsys, intently staring at her bared abdomen as she did so. Zelsys, in turn, filled her lungs to their limit with a single long breath, and with but a small wisp of Fog escaping, said, “Hit.”

Zef’s fist lashed out in a straight jab, and just as it did, Zelsys exhaled a third of her lung capacity, focusing on hardening her abs to take the punch. Though her muscles became rock-hard to the point of causing Zef to reel from her punch for a moment, it wasn’t what Zelsys was looking for. She still felt it, the strike didn’t have any less impact than it would have usually. 

Opening and closing her fist a few times, Zefaris looked up into Zel’s eyes, then back down at her abs, then back up again. “No Fog armor, but by the dead gods, you could grind meat on those,” she marveled, assuming a boxer’s stance again. “Let’s try again.”

So, they tried again. Same result.

Again.

And again.

And again.

By this point, Zefaris switched hands and Zelsys was starting to feel some ache in her stomach from the repeated blows, but most irritating to her was the repeated failure to produce any tangible effects. Clearly, the same method as supercharging physical performance wouldn’t work.

Once more she took a deep breath, but instead of exhaling, in an attempt to change her approach she stopped the exhalation short whilst still compressing her lungs. Only a small wisp of Fog came out her nose alongside a low-pitched wheeze, and she felt a strange heat radiating throughout the very muscles she flexed.

No exhalation came out yet the Fog in her lungs was still burned for fuel, the silver lines over her stomach taking on a brief glow as wisps of Fog rose from them. Zef’s fist passed through the Fog and touched skin, yet she strangely rebounded backward as if the motion of her punch had been reversed. A breath of change passed and Zelsys felt a strange yet familiar sensation, as if this very moment had been made a snapshot in her very soul - a technique had just been born.

Zefaris tumbled backward and nearly fell, but Zelsys caught her just in time, letting her focus slip as she exhaled and returned to normal breathing. 

“Th-That works, I guess,” the blonde laughed. “Can we try that again?”

Herself unsure of what exactly she had just done Zelsys nodded, hoisting Zel onto her feet, the markswoman’s sundress fluttering with the motion. 

They repeated the experiment a few more times just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, and sure enough, Zelsys managed to replicate the effect more or less consistently every time. With each repeat, she learned more about the properties of this new tool, and with each repeat, she formulated an optimal strategy for making use of it.

She could invoke the technique’s effects nearly instantly, and they quickly diminished over a short period. At its strongest it would entirely reverse the impact of a strike, while at its weakest it would barely deflect even a half-hearted punch from Zefaris. 

“Oofh, gettin’ sweaty here,” Zef gasped once she regained her balance after a punch slid off Zel’s skin. She quickly caught her breath, and making a decision on the spot, simply said, “I’m gonna take a bath.”

And indeed, as she said she would do, she did, eagerly walking to the bathroom and shedding her dress in preparation to wash off the grime of the day, idle as it was. After having been bereft of proper hygiene for so long, she was clearly happy to have the tools necessary to maintain a high self-standard. 

Zel herself let out a breath, relaxing her muscles as she felt the muscle fatigue in her stomach slowly begin to fade. Slowly, ever so slowly, yet far more quickly than it would for any normal person without the aid of alchemy, that much she knew.