《Of Hearth and Home》 1. Awareness The phrase ¡®life isn¡¯t fair¡¯ typically refers to specific instances of suffering. Since then, the phrase has just become a commonly known facet of existence, like breathing or sleeping or emptying your bowels. Yet, what the phrase commonly evokes is a situation of oppression or disconnect, a situation where one could say ¡®This is not my fault and should not be happening to me!¡¯. Often overlooked is the fact that life can often be unfair in our favour. Chance encounters bringing prosperity. Unexpected windfalls. Promotions, beauty, wealth, power - all of these things can just fall into our laps without our doing, and yet do we lament how life is unfair? No, ironically enough we tend to take ownership of these good things. We say to ourselves ¡®I earned this¡¯ or ¡®I deserve this¡¯ or ¡®It¡¯s about time something good happened to me¡¯, completely suppressing the knowledge that they did nothing to earn or deserve this. Which is all to say that, when Mitchell LeFleur awoke one Friday morning at 6AM EST, in his bedroom in a rented house, he groaned - quietly - about how unfair it was he had to go to work. He lamented how unfair it was that his knees were failing at the young age of 28 when he got out of bed, and as he splashed his face and looked into the mirror in the ensuite bathroom it was almost routine to look at his unfairly balding head. His eyes, a dull blue, held a spark of light that the world had yet to extinguish. His face, though young, bore the signs of stress from his demanding job, with a few premature wrinkles etching their way across his forehead. Thanks, Dad¡­ Mitchell quickly brushed his teeth and threw on some deodorant, turning the light off before heading back to the bedroom so as to not wake his fiancee. This was a well-practiced routine, and so even as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he carefully stepped through the memorised room, gathering clothing by feel. He balanced precariously as he dressed, unwilling to risk sitting on the creaky bench or the wooden stool. Too loud. Too risky. After another couple of minutes of blind activity, he found success. Leaning over, he planted a kiss on his fiance''s forehead, smiling to himself at her sleep-laden mumbles. Another morning without waking her was great in his book. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want to be with her in the morning - that was the furthest thing from the truth. He just knew she needed more sleep than he did, and didn¡¯t want her to have to deal with the day while tired. That wouldn¡¯t be fair. So when a bright blue screen appeared with a ¡®Ding!¡¯ right in front of his face, he did his best. Oh how he stumbled, he swung his arms in windmills, he hopped once, and somehow ended up on his hands, but no matter how he tried, he could not save himself. He fell down. Loudly. From the thumping, he had woken both his roommate, and his roommate''s cat. Odd, George was usually gone to his own job by now. Even worse, though, was that he awoke her. ¡°Everything okay?¡± She mumbled from under the covers. ¡°Yep, everything¡¯s fine. Go back to sleep my love.¡± Mitchell answered slowly, staring blankly at the screen before him: Pseudo-System active Loading Pseudo-System intro¡­.. As mandated by the IDTJCS (Inter-Dimensional Trans-Judicial Court System), all new applicants to the System are required to be given the following: (1)A reasonable expectation of the coming transition (2)A reasonable chance to thrive before integration (3)A reasonable explanation of the changes, if any, between the Applicant''s current reality, and the impending one. (4)A reasonable gift for each Applicant to ensure a balanced start as per 14457.156-86c65 s59ss987225(26)(amended). (5)A period of between 7-10 local cycles - whichever is closest to the local unit of measurement must be given with access to the Pseudo-System before the Tutorial. Congratulations! Your application to become Systemized has been accepted! The applicant, Earth, has been granted the opportunity to become the latest addition to the System-Guided Universe and as such the local apex population, Humans, will become systemized. This change will occur in approximately 162 hours, or at noon on Friday, October 13th. [Addendum] As per subsection 2, the Pseudo-System is now in place to allow the Human body to begin acclimating to systemization. For this period, XP gain is turned off, but stats can still be trained and it is encouraged to do so. Also as per subsection 2, the applicants are given System Tokens, with which items, buildings, or companions such as pets or mounts may be systemized. Warning: As per the amendment to subsection 2, you have the right to be warned that non-systemized objects will degrade at a 1:100 ratio. Non-systemized or non-bonded creatures will be removed from the applicant''s location at the commencement of the Tutorial. As per subsection 3, you will be informed: -that your body is now immune to mundane, un-systemized disease and illness. -that your ability scores are now visible to yourself and others*, compared to the default hidden setting across the Universe. -that you can train these ability scores by performing tasks which utilise the respective scores. -that you are currently at the very lowest level of the Mortal rank, and most things in the System are a danger to you. -that death within the system is permanent outside of very high level abilities or divine intervention -that Humans are fairly unique among the System Races, in that they receive both a Primary and a Secondary class, and their Race level is the average of these two levels. As a direct consequence, humans have no racial abilities beyond the first 3. As per subsection 4, amendment 7, all applicants will be given an appropriate boon upon the discovery of their Primary class. Due to the nature of humans, the value of this boon will be split between the Primary class, and the Secondary class, and will be granted when both classes are discovered. You have one week. Gather your party, train, and be ready, for the Tutorial is dangerous and what comes after even more so. Time Remaining: 6:18:22:18 Mitchell blinked. He read it again, and blinked again. He was in the middle of reading it for the third time - still on the floor where he fell - when a knock came at the door. ¡°Uh¡­ Mitch?¡± ¡°One sec.¡± He whispered back, glancing at the bed to see that he hadn¡¯t truly awoken Miriam and slipping out the door into the hallway. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. George was tall and had long, wavy brown hair that he kept back in a ponytail for work on most days. His hoodie and jeans were distressed, being work clothes, and his glasses shone with the reflection of the hallway night light. He and Mitchell had known each other for years before moving in together, and though the shared habitation had strained the friendship somewhat, it never broke. Mitchell waved his hand, gesturing silently towards the kitchen, and the two made for the first room in the house whose lights got turned on. On seeing the coffee pot full, Mitch grabbed a mug and filled it up. After a thought, he grabbed his bottle of whiskey and poured some of that in his coffee too, doing his best to ignore the bright blue screen that still hovered at head height. He found that if he used his peripheral vision, he could still function just fine. ¡°Alright, I wrote mine down. Same as yours?¡± George waited with what could be described inaccurately as a semblance of patience. With a biting gulp of hot coffee, Mitchell let out a sigh and pulled the paper over. It was the same words he even now tried to look around. ¡°Yep. Same thing. I¡¯m going to call in sick today, figure this out. Hopefully my boss ignores the ¡®Immune to disease and illness¡¯ part.¡± ¡°You can close the screen.¡± George pointed out, noticing his roommates struggles. ¡°Just gotta.. Well you need to want it to close?¡± Mitchell hummed in acknowledgement. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, opening the camera function. ¡°Damn.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I was going to try to take a picture, but it isn¡¯t showing up. What is this, some sort of AR? Do my eyes look different?¡± ¡°Like I¡¯d know? Ask Miriam.¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m going to let her sleep a bit longer. Hopefully I can have an answer or two for her.¡± With the contents written down, Mitchell closed his screen down, letting his shoulders slump in relief as the glaring light no longer interfered with his night vision. Then he blinked, as another screen popped up. VIT: 1->2 Tooltip: Stats can be trained by utilising them. In this case, you took damage from an outside source. This will be the only stat training tooltip. ¡°Did you get something?¡± Mitchell shook his head, marvelling as the screen remained fixed in place in front of him. ¡°Yea. Turns out I took damage when I fell over earlier, and it gave me a Vit point. I imagine that¡¯s vitality.¡± George nodded. ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s a game?¡± Mitchell frowned at him. ¡°I guess? I don¡¯t feel any different though.¡± ¡°Punch me.¡± His frown deepened. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Give me a good old gut punch. You aren¡¯t that strong, Mr. Office Work- oof!¡± Further convincing wasn¡¯t required. From George''s wheezing smile, the effort had succeeded. ¡°Vitality 2.¡± He coughed out. ¡°Know what this means?¡± Mitchell grinned.
It was about 9 AM when the two finally stopped swinging the training swords, and it wasn¡¯t due to fatigue. No, with the increasing vitality, George felt like he could actually run again, something he didn¡¯t do since¡­ well since a while ago. Miriam, with her short, black hair partially brushed and sticking out in all directions, stepped into the backyard. Her Italian heritage was evident in her olive skin and expressive eyes. She was slightly overweight, but it didn¡¯t detract from her charm. Her outfit, a hodgepodge of colors and patterns, somehow added to her unique appeal. Just as she emerged, George began his training jog. A chuckle escaped his lips as he took off, his laughter fading as he disappeared into the small forest that served as a boundary between the field and the yard. Unbeknownst to the others, he had just earned a stat point in Instinct, a secret achievement he held close to his chest. Mitchell took off his shield and wiped his forehead off, smiling at his fiancee. ¡°Good morning, love! Did you have a good sleep?¡± Miriam glared. His smile hitched. ¡°There¡¯s coffee in the machine, if you want to wake up a little more first.¡± Her glare intensified. Mitchell couldn¡¯t take it. ¡°What? I just wanted to let you sleep in! God knows we¡¯ve got a busy day - or week, I guess - ahead.¡± Her glare faltered. ¡°You saw it too?¡± Mitchell felt a stab of guilt and realisation, having not considered her enough. ¡°Yes, my love, I did. So did George. You aren¡¯t seeing things, I promise.¡± He moved quickly to embrace her, dropping the gladius onto the concrete slabs. Miriam had undergone some fairly terrific trials when she was younger, which resulted in a psychotic break. Mitch was lucky enough to be living with her at the time and managed to keep her from breaking too many laws in her delusions, but eventually the police and paramedics got her to a psychiatric ward where she made a recovery. Since then, though, she¡¯d been sensitive to gaslighting or misremembering events, and seeing a floating box couldn¡¯t have triggered that fear any more vividly. ¡°Alright, it¡¯s real. Who have you called?¡± Miriam made the switch to productivity so quickly it was hard to notice. ¡°Well I was going to call up Bill and Whitney.¡± ¡°Our tabletop group? I suppose we already know how to party.¡± Mitch scoffed. ¡°Sure, if by ¡®party¡¯ you mean run into literally every situation half-cocked.¡± She shrugged it off. ¡°That¡¯s what the DM is for. What about John and Sarah?¡± ¡°They¡¯re way up north, and Sarah¡¯s family.. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d come down here.¡± Miriam rolled her eyes. ¡°So you didn¡¯t even ask. I¡¯ll call them, you do Bill.¡± Well, at least the phones still worked, even if the internet was down. ¡°Bill, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Hey Bill. You see those boxes?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯d call them windows or dialogues, but sure. Listen, before you ask, Whit and I are sticking around here. My parents need me, especially if this is as dangerous as the System says.¡± ¡°What if we need you, too?¡± ¡°Mitch. You¡¯ll do fine. You¡¯re the one person in our group I wouldn¡¯t be confident of a victory against. If you need me, it¡¯s just to stop you from being so serious when it¡¯s not time for it.¡± He was surprised, even having heard the sentiment before and knowing it was more due to the size difference than any actual skill. ¡°Wise words.¡± ¡°I¡¯d hope so! I¡¯ve been training my WIL and AGI since 4 AM.¡± ¡°How? We¡¯ve just been hitting each other for Vitality.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t even think of that, nice. Agility is sprints, no problem, but Willpower was a bit tougher to figure out. Basically, you either need to force someone to recognize your words, or do something you dislike with utter focus. For me, I¡¯m having my computer randomise one letter in a stretch of code every 15 minutes, and I pause my sprints to fix it. Once Whitney gets up I¡¯m going to try dodging stuff, see if I can¡¯t work on Reflexes a bit. The others slowed down a lot after I hit 5.¡± ¡°Reflexes? ¡±Mitchell asked, trying not to get upset at the headstart he¡¯d gotten. ¡°Oh! Try saying or thinking ¡®Status¡¯. Things make more sense that way.¡± ¡°What, just say Status- whoa!¡± ¡°Yep. I¡¯ll give you a call tonight, we can share notes.¡± ¡°Yea, sure, see you later buddy.¡± Miriam was waiting, huddling up against the wind. ¡°I got voicemail. Whitney is a no go?¡± ¡°Her and Bill. They¡¯re sticking around for family reasons, but he agreed to share notes. For example, say or think the word ¡®Status¡¯¡± Her exclamation was background noise, as Mitch was already perusing his own status sheet. Name: Mitchell LeFleur Race: Human (*) Class: None Level: None HP: 40 MP: 10 STATS STR 2 FOR 1 AGI 1 REF 1 VIT 4 CON 2 INT 1 WIL 1 INS 2 CHA 2 *Human Skills: Common Ancestor: All Humans have access to racial evolution, regardless of ancestry Duality of Man: Humans are able to hold two classes, though one of the two classes must be a non-combat class. Stat gains are cumulative. Race level is equal to the average of a human¡¯s Primary and Secondary class. Species Progenitor: For being the first humans to become systemized, all humans will find it easier to create and learn new skills. Humans can also replace existing skills with new ones. Note, further born humans under the system will have this skill replaced with the following: In Their Footsteps: Humans are able to learn new skills from existing practitioners of those skills with greater efficiency. From this, a few things were gathered. Firstly, all stats started at 1. Hopes for a ¡®Character Creation¡¯ were out the window. Secondly, was the revelation that not every stat gain warranted a pop-up. Third was the fact that Racial Evolution was a thing, whatever that meant. Last was the implication that while humans could change skills, others couldn¡¯t. Other races? Aliens? Fantasy races? He was unsure, though it was clear that the system didn¡¯t see the word race in the same context as humans. Mitchell closed down the screen as George loped out of the forest, a grin on his face. ¡°Instinct, Reflexes, and Agility! Come, my friends, come frolic with me! For the stats!¡± They spent 3 hours frolicing in the fields, and by lunchtime, all of them had at least 5 in one of their stats. 2. Travel Lunch was a subdued affair, cold sandwiches on a back patio that had never been furnished with more than a second hand table and a few folding chairs. Hunger played its part in the quiet, but so too did curiosity, and not one of the trio could be found without a vacant, considering gaze. For George, it was a simple worry: What would happen to his cat, Nimbus? The black longhair wasn¡¯t the most affectionate of creatures, sure, but it was his. It was his cat when he moved away from his old life and old - now ex - girlfriend. It was his cat when he got a new house, a new job, a new group of friends. He still remembered how Bill got clawed the first time he met the cat, and how Mitchell could pick him up and put him into his coat pocket. George resolved to do all he could to ensure Nimbus didn¡¯t get left behind, which is part of why he was running around in the fields. With all this talk of stats and classes, George was hoping he could get some kind of ranger class, and keep Nimbus as his animal companion. For Mitchell, it was a bit more chaotic. His thoughts were normally quick and scattered, but now they were at least pushed into one direction. What classes were available? Where were these tokens the message had spoken of? Would the tutorial be more of a dangerous test, or a comfortable explanation? Was it wise for all of them to be training stats together? What if stats determined which classes you could get? What class did he even want? Could he choose from options, or would it just be given? The only definite thing Mitchell knew was that once he had his tokens, he would be systemizing his boots and his shield. The boots were a leftover relic from his time in military school, and the shield was an impulse buy when he had thought he was getting into HEMA. There was still one more item, and it was this that he pondered as he ate. For Miriam, her thoughts on the supply chain of a chicken burger and its likelihood of surviving the coming Tutorial were cut short by a ringing cell phone. Having left her phone inside, she lifted her watch and answered the call. ¡°John!¡± ¡°Miri! What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡± ¡°Just having some chicken burgers and chips, how about you?¡± ¡°Save us some? Should be an hour or two out.¡± Mitchell choked on a bite of burger, but George managed to shout out. ¡°You¡¯re already driving? How?¡± ¡°You think I didn¡¯t already have a go bag ready to come back down there? As soon as I saw the message, I-¡± ¡°We!¡± A female voice called out. ¡°Hi Sarah!¡± Mitchell gasped, looking around for a drink of some sort. ¡°Anyways, we decided to come down.¡± ¡°What about the family?¡± ¡°Florida, remember? We were just house-sitting. If this is all fake, we¡¯ll still be back before they are, and if it isn¡¯t, no way we¡¯re getting to Florida in time.¡± ¡°Turns out John¡¯s family is out west right now, so we¡¯re coming to you guys. Got a room for us?¡± ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll clear out my office. Not like I need it anymore¡­¡± Miriam answered with a hint of dejection. ¡°Got any stat tips?¡± Mitchell finally cleared his throat. ¡°What?¡± Mitchell groaned. ¡°If you get hurt, you can gain Vitality points. Have you discovered anything like that?¡± ¡°I get intelligence for reviewing medical journals!¡± Sarah shouted out. ¡°Oh! Yea, I got a couple strength while we were packing up the car, and a willpower not 10 minutes ago in traffic. The- Hold up guys, looks like there¡¯s a roadblock. I¡¯ll call you back.¡± The watch emitted a trio of beeps, indicating the end of the call. ¡°Well, I¡¯m gonna move wood until they get here.¡± Mitchell said, leaving his plate on the table and slapping his hands on his thighs to announce his movement. ¡°Going to try for some Strength, see if doing it long enough gives me any constitution or something like that. Miri, you got any old textbooks lying around? I figure if I get too tired I can train my intelligence up.¡± She frowned. ¡°I can check. Is this all you¡¯re going to do all week?¡± ¡°I mean..¡± ¡°It would be kinda dumb not to.¡± George answered, finishing his own plate. ¡°Don¡¯t know about you guys, but I spent the morning running around a field, and I feel like I could go and do that for the rest of the day and only end up a little bit tired. Besides, number go up make brain happy. Bye!¡± George again loped back to the trail, our own usage leaving it looking much more well travelled than it ever did. ¡°He¡¯s got a point. I may not be running around a field but.. Well, I was happy when I was fit, and studying well in military school. I can already feel what he was saying, and if I could make myself smarter, why wouldn¡¯t I? Besides, think of it this way: If my intelligence is one right now, and I get it up to ten, would that make me ten times smarter than I am now? It¡¯s a puzzle and I want to know the answer.¡± Miriam sighed. ¡°Fine, but not until I¡¯m done with my lunch. You sit there and relax and pretend everything in the world isn¡¯t messed up.¡± Almost as if to punctuate her statement, emergency sirens flew by on the distant road. Mitchell gave her a reassuring smile. ¡°Of course. Just trying to make the best of it.¡± Miriam rolled her eyes but smiled. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless.¡± CHA: 3->4 Mitchell didn¡¯t know whether to tell Miriam that he was getting Charisma off of her. It felt like it would ruin the method if she knew, but even more than that, he didn¡¯t want her thinking his actions were influenced by that, at least not when it came to her. It was simply an added side effect of something he would do anyways. At the same time, though, it felt like he was using her in a way, and that gave him a sense of unease.
Mitchell was exhibiting unusual behaviour again, Miriam noted. It wasn¡¯t necessarily negative, he just had these moments of peculiarity that would pass soon enough. For now, she agreed to check on him intermittently, when she wasn¡¯t engrossed in reading. She had scoured the house from top to bottom, and the only non-fiction book they owned was the DSM5, a comprehensive manual of mental disorders. With a resigned sigh, she began to flip through it, her eyes landing on various sections. Her strategy so far had been to avoid overthinking. To not dwell on the fact that with the internet down, she couldn¡¯t perform her job even if she wanted to. To not ponder on how her fianc¨¦e and roommate seemed to be adjusting to the new circumstances without any issues. To not fixate on the blue box that appeared before her, declaring that her intelligence had now doubled. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. She tried not to think, but it was incredibly challenging, and so she thought. She thought about her medication, how she only had a month¡¯s supply left and she was supposed to pick up more on Thursday, but now she couldn¡¯t. She thought about the consequences of running out of her medication, and she worried about what that meant for the group. She thought about their landlords, and worried that they might show up and create problems. She thought about Bill and Whitney, and how they wouldn¡¯t be meeting up with her. Primarily, she thought about how utterly vague this ¡®Tutorial¡¯ was. What would it entail, a test? A guided tour? She hadn¡¯t played many games, but she had watched Mitchell play, and often Tutorials were designed to be a risk-free way to familiarise a player with the game controls. The system explicitly stated the tutorial would be dangerous, and refused to provide any guidance on how she could prepare beyond ¡®training¡¯ and ¡®gathering the party¡¯. It was all too overwhelming to contemplate, so she focused on reading about mental disorders, finding a small amount of comfort in the fact that she understood her condition and had no doubts about her current mental state. INT: 2->3 INT: 3->4 WIL: 1->2 George was right, though. Numbers going up did make her brain happy.
George reveled in the freedom of his life. The future held no work, no responsibilities, and no early mornings! With a triumphant whoop, he vaulted over a fallen tree trunk, maintaining his pace as he rolled out of the leap. After a frown and another lap, he decided against the roll. The result? Greater speed. On the first day, he trained solo. The second day would see Nimbus, his pet, joining him on the field, running alongside him. He had yet to plan beyond that, but for now, he exploded from the tree line, his legs pumping with an unfamiliar yet exhilarating fatigue. He understood the challenge of advancing beyond level 5. It was akin to training for Olympic weightlifting starting with a five-pound barbell. The difficulty had to increase gradually. With each lap, he vaulted over the trunk, his gaze drifting towards the small patch of forest in the middle of the field. He set a goal - he wouldn¡¯t return home until he could charge through that vegetation without losing any speed. Emboldened by his newfound freedom, George set his sights on the dense patch of brush. He charged towards it, only to be rebuffed by the stubborn vegetation. His initial attempts were met with scratches and scrapes, the undergrowth proving to be a formidable adversary. Undeterred, George persisted. Each lap, he would charge at the brush, each time making little headway, but never conceding defeat. His body bore the brunt of his efforts, with new cuts and bruises marking his progress. Yet, with each attempt, he learned. He began to understand the rhythm of the brush, the way the branches swayed, the spots where the undergrowth was less dense. He adjusted his approach, his path, his speed. Slowly but surely, he started to see progress. He was no longer just crashing into the brush; he was weaving through it, his body moving in sync with the vegetation. The brambles that once seemed impenetrable were starting to give way; The branches no longer obstacles but stepping stones on his path. By the end of the days light, George was able to make it through the brush without tripping. By the time it hit twilight, he was able to make it through the brush without using the one path he had worn in. By the time it hit midnight, George was laughing as he charged through the trees, that patch having been memorised to the point where he could do it with his eyes closed. George finally emerged from the forest into the yard: panting, scratched, but victorious. His goal was achieved - not with brute force, but with persistence, adaptation, and an indomitable spirit.
John was a large man. He¡¯d always been taller than his peers, so much so that he¡¯d gone by Big John for a while in his younger years. A thick mop of curly brown hair sat atop his head, brushing the roof of the car''s cabin. Yet, being big didn¡¯t really matter behind the wheel of a car, and he was in such a position as the couple slowed down at the roadblock. Flashing police lights shone on SUV¡¯s that blocked the 2 lane highway, and he felt Sarah jump as a helicopter flew overhead. No way, that¡¯s a Griffon! John¡¯s eyes followed the path of the Griffon as it circled above them, its rotors chopping through the air with a rhythmic thud that echoed off the surrounding hills. He could see the distinct shape of the C6 machine gun mounted on the side, a silent promise of firepower. The sight was oddly comforting, a symbol of protection, yet also a stark reminder of the seriousness of their situation. Sarah, on the other hand, was more focused on the scene unfolding on the ground. She noticed the figures moving stealthily along the shoulder of the highway, their CADPAT uniforms blending seamlessly with the foliage. The glint of sunlight off a rifle barrel caught her eye, and she realised they were armed. ¡°John,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the idling engine, ¡°There are soldiers in the bushes.¡± John followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. He could see them now, the soldiers hidden amongst the trees, their weapons at the ready. A chill ran down his spine. This wasn¡¯t just a simple roadblock. They were in the middle of an operation. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. ¡°Stay calm, Sarah,¡± he said, trying to keep his voice steady. ¡°We¡¯ll get through this.¡± It was almost a haze, the time between the car entering the queue and being asked to roll their windows down by the officer. John did his very best not to think about the number of weapons pointed at him, and layed on the charm. ¡°Good Afternoon sir. Licence and registration?¡± One hell of a traffic stop. He thought to himself, even as he slowly reached for the leather fold which contained precisely those documents. ¡°Sure thing, officer. One sec¡­¡± He handed the fold over, and his suspicions increased when the officer flipped it open right in front of him. ¡°That¡¯s a nice bird you guys got up there.¡± ¡°Yep.¡± The officer¡¯s response was curt, his hand absently brushing the grip of his holstered pistol, a chilling reminder of the power he wielded. ¡°Nice rifles too. Where are those boys from?¡± John tried to keep his voice steady, but the question hung in the air, unanswered. ¡°Where are you coming from?¡± The officer¡¯s question cut through the tension like a knife, his gaze never leaving John¡¯s. ¡°Sundridge. Little town u-¡± Sarah¡¯s voice wavered, but she was abruptly cut off. ¡°I got a cousin who worked there. I know where it is. Where are you going?¡± The officer¡¯s tone was icy, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. John bristled but forced himself to remain calm. ¡°We got family down near Toronto.¡± The officer¡¯s demeanour shifted noticeably, his vigilance intensifying. He tossed the leather fold back into the small hatchback with a dismissive flick of his wrist. ¡°Travel into urban centres is forbidden for the next week. Pull your vehicle up to the turn-around and go home.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not Toronto, it¡¯s more a small town north of a place that¡¯s beside Toronto.¡± John¡¯s protest was weak, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°Make way for the next vehicle.¡± The officer¡¯s command was final, his patience clearly worn thin. ¡°But, sir, I-¡± John¡¯s plea was cut short as the officer turned his back, leaving them in a cloud of uncertainty and mounting fear. Then, the tension cracked. John¡¯s heart was a drum, pounding a frenzied beat in his chest as the world around them erupted into chaos. The tranquil forest was transformed into a war zone, the air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Bullets whizzed past their car, pinging off the armoured SUVs that formed the roadblock with a chilling, metallic echo. The officers, caught off guard, were like ants in a downpour, scrambling for cover, their shouts of alarm swallowed by the relentless symphony of violence. John¡¯s instincts kicked in. He threw himself over Sarah, his body a human shield against the hail of bullets. His hand shot out, jamming the car into gear. ¡°Hold on!¡± he bellowed, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of chaos. He slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the car protesting with a squeal of tires even as it lurched forward. The roadblock loomed ahead, a formidable fortress now abandoned in the face of the onslaught. John¡¯s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed with grim determination. He steered the car towards the narrow gap between the SUVs, the car scraping against the armoured vehicles with a bone-jarring screech of metal against metal. The car shuddered, but it kept moving, propelled by John¡¯s relentless will. With a final, Herculean effort, they burst through the roadblock, the once intimidating barrier now a rapidly receding image in the rearview mirror. John didn¡¯t dare to slow down, not until the sounds of the firefight were nothing more than a distant echo. Only then did he allow himself to breathe, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly. ¡°We made it, Sarah,¡± he gasped, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. But as he turned to look at her, his relief turned to alarm. A thin trickle of blood was making its way down Sarah¡¯s arm, a stark red against her pale skin. ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± he said, his voice tight with concern. But the road ahead was clear, the chaos of the now burning roadblock behind them. They had escaped the immediate danger, but their journey was far from over. They had a long way to go, and they were far from safe. 3. Arrival 4 Days until Tutorial Start George, agile as a squirrel, scrambled up the rough bark of the tree. His hands, though scraped and raw, healed in minutes - a testament to his impressive Vitality stat. He retrieved the hatchet embedded in the trunk and tossed it down to Mitchell. Then, with a leap that would make any gymnast envious, he moved to the next tree-top. His Reflexes and Agility stats, both at a solid 10, ensured he moved with ease and precision. Mitchell, on the ground, was a study in stillness. He was testing his Willpower, standing motionless as hatchets rained down from above. It was a strange method, but effective. On the first day, he had moved the pile of wood from one wall of the house to another¡­ and then back. He repeated this until 3 AM when he passed out outside, but the Willpower gains had been huge, along with the Strength and Fortitude. Fortunately you couldn¡¯t lose stat points, as he should have had his Charisma bumped to zero for his part in the argument that followed. Mitchell now had a bedtime of midnight for the rest of the week, and Miriam had more than enough Intelligence that he trusted her when she said he still needed sleep. It didn¡¯t really feel like it when he had awakened at 6AM the next day, though, feeling fine and refreshed despite the less-than-comfortable lodgings of a concrete pad. Thus, his new, more social method. Miriam had read through the entire DSM5, which to most would be considered the equivalent of reading the dictionary cover to cover, but her Intelligence had leapt up to 10 when she completed it and she had decided to move on to her Reflex stat, which she trained using a bowl of water with a pinprick hole in the bottom. When a drop fell, she tried to swat it out of the air before it landed on the sheet of paper below. Originally there hadn¡¯t been a paper, but Miriam had discovered that things went faster with consequences to failure. Even if those consequences were just grabbing a new piece of paper. The group had agreed to raise all of their stats to 5, at least. Nobody wanted to have to carry each other¡¯s gear due to low Strength, and it had expanded from there. George nodded as his Vitality hit 5, nimbly hopping down the branches of the tree and landing on scattered grass. ¡°Are we done?¡± Mitchell asked him, frowning. ¡°I mean, I can throw some more axes but I just hit my last 5. Why, are you not done?¡± Mitchell paused for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get all of them to 10. I¡¯ve got Will, Instinct, and Charisma left, so if you could throw some more axes and save me time that would be great. Otherwise I¡¯m moving wood, and that was better for Strength than anything.¡± It was more than that though. It almost seemed neglectful to have an opportunity to improve yourself so easily, so readily, and then just¡­ not. Mitchell was always trying to self improve. Whether it was learning a new skill, educating himself in a field he didn¡¯t know about, or just walking down the street to see a new shop, Mitchell wanted to learn and improve. To not get the stats to 10, despite knowing that you could, would be ridiculous. George groaned, thoughts of starting lunch pushed back. ¡°Fine. One more point, and only because you helped me with Charisma.¡± Mitchell shrugged. That was fine. He would find something else for the next point.
That night¡­ The roads were treacherous, a thought that gnawed at John¡¯s mind as he manoeuvred the commandeered motorcycle to the edge of the desolate backroad. The blinding glare of distant headlights pierced the darkness, heralding the approach of vehicles long before they intruded on their path. Sarah had retreated into a shell of silence since the roadblock, her voice a mere whisper and her opinions a rare commodity. John harboured a gnawing fear that she was in shock, a condition he¡¯d heard could only be alleviated by sleep - a luxury they hadn¡¯t been able to afford in their relentless journey. He was no healer, but he kept a vigilant watch over her. The roads were a graveyard at night. The daylight hours were a different story, teeming with activity, as evidenced by the fiery carcass of an overturned tanker truck that bathed John¡¯s face in an eerie glow from a mile away. As dawn threatened to break, John painstakingly disassembled parts of the bike, enough to give it the guise of a wreck. Their desperate hope was to snatch a few hours of sleep and find the bike untouched upon waking. Mitchell¡¯s place was a mere half-hour drive from here, but the military¡¯s trigger fingers seemed to be getting itchier with each passing patrol. The government had clamped down on travel, confining citizens to their residences. Initially, it was mere restrictions, but when defiance became the norm, they escalated the situation, declaring travel during crises a federal offence punishable by death. The aftermath was a macabre landscape of cratered and charred vehicles strewn across the roads. John was clueless about the government¡¯s endgame, and frankly, he didn¡¯t care. His sole objective was to regroup with his trusted allies and plan their next move. If that meant evading helicopters and roadblocks, then so be it. With the motorcycle sufficiently camouflaged and tucked under the guardrail, John took Sarah¡¯s hand, gently lifting her from her perch. Together, they ventured into the foreboding embrace of the trees, seeking a hidden refuge where they could huddle and shiver in the biting cold until morning¡¯s light.
3 Days until Tutorial Start¡­ Bill, still fresh to the mantle of leadership, surveyed his vast family, assembled in orderly rows, heads respectfully lowered. In a matter of days, they had gathered from all corners of the globe. Some had embarked on their journeys months prior. Each one carried a message, purportedly from a distant relative named William, an enigmatic figure of wisdom that Bill had yet to encounter. ¡°Ascension brings safety. Ascension is a collective endeavour. United, we are secure. Join us.¡± From the most tender-aged cousins to his venerable grandmother, they had rallied to his side, pledging their loyalty and seeking his guidance in navigating the impending storm. Whitney had experienced a similar call to arms, her family¡¯s messages also traced back to the elusive William. While Bill was entrusted with a tome containing two ¡®Class Progression Guides¡¯, Whitney received a journal titled ¡®Dual Class Races and their Progeny¡¯, a complex fusion of scholarly research and personal reflections. They were instructed to part ways until an hour before the Tutorial commenced. The uncanny accuracy of William¡¯s predictions left Bill in a state of attentive silence. He foretold the fall of Mecca, vividly depicted the bombing of the UN summit in Warsaw, and the subsequent fate of the radioactive crater. He prophesied the flood and the unfortunate obliteration of Japan before the Tutorial¡¯s onset. His precise information (¡°Your neighbour will form a convoy and depart at 3 AM in 3 days. He will not reach his destination.¡±) proved infallible. Bill was convinced that William was a time traveller, perhaps aided by a family member in the past, now reciprocating the favour. Or, it could all be an elaborate deception. Regardless, armed with the knowledge contained in their books, Bill felt a surge of confidence in their ability to defend against adversaries and support their allies. He allowed himself a fleeting thought for his former tabletop group, suppressing a wave of guilt. He had promised to share any newfound knowledge with Mitchell, but this¡­ this was too monumental. His priority was his family. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
2 Days until Tutorial Start Miriam was in a state of turmoil. Mitchell, having reached his 10 spread the previous day, was frantically trying to maximise each token¡¯s potential. She had a hunch that the System wouldn¡¯t permit him to, for instance, cram a variety of items into a tarp and attempt to systemize it as a whole. But she didn¡¯t have the heart to dissuade him. His relentless determination was one of the things she adored about him. He was never one to shy away from a challenge. This was his third attempt, after numerous trials with the tokens. It was a strange sensation, waking up with three days left and finding three tokens, resembling black and white casino chips, just lying on her bedside table. Activating them required touching them to an object and willing them to activate - Miriam did this by giving them a slight squeeze and mentally shouting ¡®ACTIVATE!¡¯ - which would prompt a dialogue window, just like on the first day, asking if you wanted to systemize the object. George had ceased his experiments when his attempt to systemize the house with a token failed. He retreated outside with his cat Nimbus, persisting in his efforts to train it. Meanwhile, Mitchell was preoccupied with tying the loops of the tarp together, the contents within stuffed into garbage bags - previous experiments had demonstrated that garbage bags could be systemized, and a bag full of a single item could be systemized. Mitchell had even received an offer for a ''Bag ¡®o Clothes¡¯, which he declined, but it served as a good proof of concept. The tarp contained a bag of food, a bag of clothes, a bag of tools (more of a quadruple bag), and a bag full of personal effects like photos and keepsakes. After securing the tarp, Mitchell, with a hopeful expression, touched the token to the tarp. Miriam noticed that he seemed to activate it with far less effort than she did, but his dejected expression made her heart ache with empathetic disappointment. ¡°Mitch, that¡¯s enough,¡± she said, trying to sound reassuring. ¡°You already know what you¡¯re bringing.¡± Mitchell kicked at the loose edge of the tarp. ¡°Yea, but what about John and Sarah? They still haven¡¯t shown up. What if they couldn¡¯t bring anything? What if they don¡¯t make it?¡± Mitch leaned over and began untying the tarp and muttering to himself. ¡°Stupid, of course it wouldn¡¯t let me put bags in bags¡­¡± Miriam retreated a step, watching him. He¡¯d been at this for hours. She knew that John¡¯s absence was gnawing at him, and it was gnawing at her too. But she had her own problems to contend with. Specifically, a mishap had resulted in half of her pills ending up in the toilet, leaving her with only enough for five more days. The tutorial was set to start in three days, and the thought of telling her fianc¨¦ that she might not be herself after two days in a foreign land was unbearable. She hoped he would just think it¡¯s¡­ Oh, who was she fooling? She felt a sense of impending doom.
The day before the tutorial¡­ As the sun began to set, the silhouette of two weary figures emerged from the dense forest. John and Sarah, their bodies aching from the relentless journey, finally arrived at their destination. Their clothes were tattered, their faces etched with exhaustion, but their spirits remained unbroken. John, supporting Sarah, looked at the familiar surroundings. The sight of Mitchell¡¯s place, though it bore the eclectic scars of recent training, was a welcome one. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. They had made it. Sarah, her voice barely above a whisper, said, ¡°We¡¯re here, John. We made it.¡± Her words, though simple, carried the weight of their arduous journey. John squeezed her hand gently, a silent promise of safety. He knew the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but for now, they had a moment of respite. As they approached the entrance, John couldn¡¯t help but think about the challenges that awaited them. But those were worries for another day. For now, they were home. Exhausted but safe, they stepped into the welcoming embrace of the familiar and were met with tired cheers before quickly passing out on the guest bed.
As the first rays of dawn pierced the morning sky, the group began to stir. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of pastries that George had managed to scrounge up. It was a comforting smell, a small piece of normalcy in a world that had become anything but. John, his eyes still heavy with sleep, was the first to rise. He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb the others just yet. As he started pouring a cup of coffee, he couldn¡¯t help but reflect on the journey that had brought them here. It had been a long and arduous road, filled with challenges and obstacles that they had somehow managed to overcome. He decided to share their story, and the state of the world. Sarah was the first to wake, coming to sit beside John. With a start, he realised she had a kit. More importantly, she had a smile. ¡°Sarah? You alright?¡± She beamed at him. ¡°Of course I am.¡± She pulled open the first aid kit, withdrawing a pair of scissors she snipped at him menacingly. ¡°I can finally clean up my gunshot wound. Thank whatever¡¯s out there it didn¡¯t get infected when you had us lying in the woods among the animals.¡± As the others began to wake, drawn by the smell of coffee and the sound of John¡¯s voice, they gathered around, listening as he recounted their journey. He spoke of their struggles, their victories, and the friends they had lost along the way. His words painted a vivid picture, a testament to their resilience and determination that ended with the loss of a travelling companion. A moment of silence was had for Jin, and the group moved on. Mitchell was next to speak. He shared their levelling information, detailing each stat and the progress they had made. His voice was steady, a stark contrast to the worry that lingered in his eyes. He explained that Bill wouldn¡¯t be joining them, a fact that cast a sombre mood over the group. But they understood. Not everyone could make it. A moment was had for Bill and Whitney, and the group moved on. The group looked to George, who scoffed and grabbed another pastry. ¡°No big news here, just managed to make pastries with no recipe and no internet. Where did we get the raspberry filling, George? I found some raspberries. End of story, you¡¯re welcome.¡± The group moved on. Finally, it was Miriam¡¯s turn. She summarised the results of their Systemization experiments, her words filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. They had made significant progress, but there was still so much they didn¡¯t know. A moment of contemplation, and then the group moved on. Mitchell called for everyone to gather their Systemized items and prepare to go. Out on the back patio, the group circled up. John, who had brought his own pair of combat boots and a recreated Roman Army helmet complete with horsehair mohawk. His third item was a survival straw, for filtering water. Sarah also had a survival straw, but had taken our first aid kit and systemized that. She also brought a heavy duty tarp. George was ecstatic when he found he could Systemize his cat, but subsequently cursed that it would cost 2 tokens instead of just one. He took the cost, and brought out his bow. It was no choice between Nimbus and his quiver, but he would not leave the maple-fibreglass weapon behind. Miriam had struggled long deciding on what to bring but had eventually settled. She brought a set of leather armour that she had used for Renaissance fairs, a forest green short-cloak that was for the same purpose, and finished off with a small hygiene kit. Mitchell had his items prepared from almost the first day. A round metal shield from his HEMA days, his combat boots from military school, and finally his own long, grey cloak. As noon approached, the group fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The impending tutorial loomed over them, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, they took comfort in the warmth of the coffee, the sweetness of the pastries, and the unity of their group. The group stood as one when the notification popped up. Pseudo-System protocol complete. System initializing¡­ System initialized. Tutorial Instance 1855-CA activating in 3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­ A bright light engulfed the world, and every human on Earth vanished. Welcome to the System! They were in this together, and they would face whatever came next as one. 4. New Game Tutorial Instance 1855-CA Begins! Survivors Remaining: 5000/5000 The man knew where he was, oddly enough. There was a cliff that ran not far away from the edge of a massive lake. As the sun rose in the East, he could - from its angle - tell he was somewhere on the Niagara Peninsula. Scrambling up a tree to get a better view, he was startled as a squirrel came charging out of a hole in the trunk and leaped at him! George startled and lost his grip, plummeting from the branches and only just managing to get his fingers around a lower branch, slowing himself before he slammed into the ground. For a brief moment, George¡¯s world disappeared in a flash of pain and the ache of bruising, before he felt his raised Vitality going to work on it. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see the squirrel, chittering on its branch and shaking a fist at him. ¡°What?!¡± He shouted back through a groan of pain. ¡°I was just climbing, you jerk!¡± The squirrel, a red rodent with a greying belly, shook its fist harder before it was tackled from the side by a dark shape. The chittering rose in panic before cutting off with a sharp crack. George could only watch in astonishment as Nimbus clambered down the tree, squirrel in mouth, and deposited it at his feet, looking smugly up at him. ¡°Uh¡­ Good boy?¡± Nimbus preened in a circle and meowed at him. George gave him a pet and rose to his feet, stringing his bow and quickly realising he had no arrows. With a sigh, he unstrung the bow, tucked it into its protective case, and grabbed a thick stick off the ground. He gave it a few practice swings, satisfied with the heft and balance of the wood. ¡°George!¡± John burst through the brush, less manoeuvring through it and more forcing it to make way. Sarah came marching through the path he left behind and gave a friendly, if strained wave and smile. ¡°Hey guys! Glad you found me. Have either of you seen Mitch and Miriam?¡± George asked, wanting to reconvene as soon as possible. ¡°No, we just heard some noise from over here and came to check it out. I figured we¡¯d all get dropped together.¡± John pondered. ¡°Did¡­ Did you kill that?¡± Sarah pointedly didn¡¯t look at the dead squirrel. George looked over where his cat was worrying at the corpse, trying to get around the hair to eat. Still an indoor cat at heart, it seemed. ¡°Oh, no Nimbus did it after I got knocked out of the tree. He¡¯s a hunter, it seems.¡± ¡°You got knocked out of a tree by a squirrel?¡± John caught onto his favourite part of the explanation with mirth. ¡°Yep. Must have had a high level.¡± George glared at the question. ¡°It¡¯s a squirrel.¡± George shot back indignant. ¡°Yea, and I said it pushed me out of the tree. What, you think I just fell down? I don¡¯t fall, John.¡± ¡°Okay, buddy. Doesn¡¯t matter an-¡± John¡¯s teasing was cut off by a scream, and a faint ¡®No, stay away!!¡¯ The group looked at each other for the briefest moment before dropping the conversation and running through the forest, George quickly taking the lead with his Stats and experience. Something unspoken had passed between them. It wasn¡¯t long before the scream sounded again, this time in pain and desperation, and George pushed his legs to run faster, outpacing the rest of the group with a growled ¡°Hurry up!¡±. He had nothing to use for a rescue except for a stick, but that would have to be enough.
Miriam had decided pretty quickly that maybe she should have gone running in the fields with the boys. Of course, her mind listed all the health benefits to regular running: Improved cardiovascular system, the increased efficiency of her oxygenation process, general mental well-being increases, the list went on and on. She could only think of one benefit she needed, though, as her legs burned with effort, struggling to propel her around trees and through thick brush to keep ahead of the panting and yipping behind her. Coyotes. In some sort of sick, twisted joke, the System had plopped her right beside a pack of coyotes that had immediately got up from their rest and started pursuing her. She¡¯d heard them from a distance back home, their barking and howling far away but close enough to hear at night when the windows were open. The sound always filled her with unease, and now, as it surrounded her, that unease turned to fear. She would finally live out her nightmare. Willpower check failed! Miriam felt the overwhelming urge to run faster, but as she was already at her top speed, she just did her best to make sure that the forest itself didn¡¯t slow her down. Her heart dropped as her toe caught a hidden branch, but a stumble and a slam into a tree let her right herself, and she almost welcomed the pain in her shoulder. It distracted her from the burn of her legs. As the chase dragged on, Miriam¡¯s fear fell away. One could only run in panic for so long, which was an odd thought to her. Risking a glance back, she almost stumbled as she saw the red coyote, not 5 feet from her heels. Instinctually, she tumbled to the side over a fallen branch, a sharp pain in her side flaring up. She would take a small bruise over a coyote bite any day, though, and as the beast flew through the air, she realised she may have just died had she not moved. With a deep, calming breath, she listened for a brief moment, and could tell the rest of the pack was approaching. Turning to the coyote who had recovered from its leap, she glanced around hoping to find a rock or a stick or something to keep it away from her. She saw a glint of steel, heard the stomping, then Mitchell burst out from behind a tree, shield held in both hands and a look of bright red rage on his face. Lifting the steel high, he cast it down upon the coyote, who backed away to avoid the blow but was not quick enough backwards to evade it completely. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. With a crack and a spray of blood, the edge of the shield fell onto the lupines neck rather than its back, and Mitchell raised the shield again. The coyote, mouth dribbling blood and with a pained yipping, ran off into the woods. Mitchell took a deep breath, glancing around to determine their safety before limping slightly over to Miriam. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think we should have brought weapons.¡± Miriam just looked at him flatly, like she did when he made silly comments that only made sense if you willingly bought into the silly. In the interest of keeping her sanity and not thinking about the odd way she was thinking - slow, methodical, sequential - she deadpanned. ¡°I can already tell soap was a much better choice.¡± Mitchell looked confused, until she gestured in his direction and he looked down. He was covered in dirt, and a little bit of coyote blood. ¡°True. Hey, have you found the washroom yet?¡± ¡°No, why?¡± ¡°Water?¡± Miriam narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m still keeping the soap.¡± ¡°Even with- Argh!¡± Mitchell stumbled backwards, almost falling onto his face as the previously hidden form of a coyote yanked where it had bitten at his calf. Mitchell cursed furiously and tried to pull his leg free, but the coyote had its teeth through his pants and he was unable to free himself. ¡°Fuckers have stealth or something!¡± A growling behind him showed another coyote, sneaking up where Miriam still sat propped against a tree. Mitchell flung a nearby stick at it, his aim thrown off as the attached coyote yanked again and a brief worry of infection went through his head. Miriam¡¯s eyes followed the stick, then she let out a scream as the coyote leaped forwards at her, grabbing her hastily raised forearm in her jaws and beginning to tear and shake at it. ¡°No! Get away!¡± She let out with half-thought, not knowing whether to pull away or let it drag her or what just made the pain stop. There was a sickening crunch and the faintest ringing of steel, and then the coyote had let go of her arm and she cradled it to her chest with a sob. Another crunch with the backdrop of ringing steel, and Mitchell was grabbing her by the good arm, hoisting her to her feet. Every bump and jostle sent lances of agony through her, and she allowed the tears to fall with no resistance. The injured couple plunged deeper into the dense forest, their hearts pounding in sync with the ominous drumming of their pursuers¡¯ footfalls. The forest, once a sanctuary of tranquillity, had transformed into a labyrinth of fear. The once gentle rustling of leaves now echoed like whispers of doom, and the innocent warbles of waking birds in the dawn sounded like death knells. Mitchell, his face etched with lines of pain, limped heavily on his right leg. Each step was a battle against agony, but he pressed on, his determination fueled by the primal instinct of survival. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now wide with terror, darting around the shadowy forest, searching for an escape route. Miriam, on the other hand, clutched her bleeding arm, her fingers stained crimson. The wound, a cruel souvenir from their attackers, throbbed with every heartbeat. But she bit back the cries of pain, her lips a thin line of resolve. Her free hand clung to Mitchell¡¯s, their fingers intertwined in a silent promise of shared fate. Behind them, the sounds of howling and yelping rose again, a chilling symphony of their impending doom. It was growing louder, closer, the forest echoing with the monstrous chorus. The couple could almost feel the hot breath of their pursuers on their necks, the anticipation of the chase making their predators more relentless. But they pressed on, their bodies screaming in protest, their minds clouded with fear. Every rustle, every snap of a twig amplified their panic. Their breaths came out in ragged gasps, the cold air stinging their lungs. But they couldn¡¯t afford to stop, not when stopping meant certain death. Even when another pair of coyotes caught up, and the two were forced to retreat into a hollow in the trees to avoid being surrounded, they remained resolute. As they pressed their backs against a gigantic fallen trunk for protection, the number of coyotes gradually increased. What started as two quickly became three, and before they knew it, they found themselves encircled by a pack of six menacing coyotes. Mitchell held his shield in both hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can bash all of them.¡± Miriam felt the panic slide away as her options, limited as they were, became clear. She leaned forward, and kissed her fianc¨¦''s cheek. ¡°At least we aren¡¯t alone.¡± Something in his eyes lit up, the faintest spark behind clouded yet defiant eyes. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Picking up a nearby stick, he began pounding on the surface of his shield, first three long gongs, then a trio of short raps, then another- He was sending out an SOS! Miriam quickly reasoned through it. She had approximately 30 seconds between her arrival in the tutorial, and finding Mitchell, though she was moving at a full sprint. Estimating her speed (generously) at the 24km/h average sprinting speed, and dialling back efficiency by 50% to account for running through the forest, she¡¯d moved¡­ about 100 meters. Around the same distance they¡¯d run since getting trapped here, and more than close enough to hear that ringing noise. How had he reasoned that out so fast? Fighting down the embarrassment, she opened her mouth and screamed. It was odd at first, but as she did she let her pain and frustration bleed into the note, she let her desperation and drive to live modulate the pitch, and the scream came out crystal clear and rang out through the forest. Mitchell got through three repetitions of his message before the coyotes stopped surrounding and began to lunge, feint and generally harry them. With the limited opening before them, the couple was able to largely hide behind the shield. It required Miriam helping support her partner, as he couldn¡¯t put any weight on his leg, and he in turn held the shield that kept metal between them and gnawing, thrashing teeth. He occasionally used his stick to swing at the creatures, but it was yanked out of his grip by one of the coyotes while another lunged at an angle, forcing him to drop the weapon and defend. The coyote bit down on the shield rim and tried to rip it away, so he made a fist and punched at its snout, hitting its nose and making it let go but also swinging his knuckles into the hard rim of the shield. Then two leapt from the front, and with the one arm he had on the shield he couldn¡¯t leverage enough strength to repel them. Both he and Miriam were knocked down to the ground, and with the shield pinned to his chest, he was unable to guard his throat, something the coyote seemed to realise as it lunged forward. Only to stop midair with a yelp and a widening of eyes and a tightening of fur, and Mitchell realised that it wasn¡¯t yips and howls of excitement he was hearing now but pain. In a sick moment of indulgence, he allowed himself to feel joy at their suffering. It served them right. Then he noticed the meaty fist, grabbing the coyote by the scruff and launching it bodily into a nearby tree, where a crack marked the end of its life. He noticed the bare arm and followed it up to a familiar face, letting out something between a sob and a laugh of relief at the sight. ¡°Thank the - what was it you said?¡± John looked down on him imperiously, only to wince and lay out a meaty kick that was followed by the sound of whimpering. ¡°By every god that does or does not exist.¡± Mitchell answered automatically as he feebly looked around the clearing. There was George, big stick in hand, and there was Sarah, tending to Miriam, who had allowed herself to pass out. Mitchell smiled, the warm fuzzy feeling encompassing his heart. She was right. They weren¡¯t alone. It was only mid-day, but he felt like he could rest, and his eyes slid shut with barely a hint of resistance. ¡°Yea¡­¡± George muttered darkly off to the side where he had begun crudely skinning the coyote, having pushed himself to the limit to arrive in what looked like the last second. ¡°Thank them.¡± 5. Discovery It was a wonderfully quiet hour before the wounds were patched, a splint made, and a set of sticks sharpened into spears, though Mitchell would instead use his branch as a crutch. It was during this hour that George discovered the first unspoken gift from the System: the Analyze skill. As he finished skinning the coyote and was holding the skin up to the light that he yelped with surprise and dropped the skin. Mitchell watched the distraction, as George narrowed his eyes suspiciously at a few more things, then stumbled over out of sorts and plopped down onto the forest floor. Nimbus scrambled out of the way. ¡°Cat got you-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± George answered, cutting off Mitchell¡¯s pained observation. Everything Mitchell did was pained, at this point, as Sarah worked to disinfect and wrap up his leg. ¡°Just look at one of your token items, and try to figure out how it¡¯s different now.¡± Given her kit was already out in front of her, Sarah glared at it. She knew the kit very well, a St. John¡¯s Ambulance standardised Level C kit. Definitely overkill for anything she would find in her previous life, she considered the token well spent as she traded gauze for lifeblood. With animal bites, like most injuries, First Aid trained her to bring the casualty to stability in preparation for a trip to the hospital. She knew, deep in her subconscious, that there was no hospital out there, but in lieu of any other ideas she continued to dress the ragged flesh of Mitchells leg in preparation for transport. Metal First Aid Kit (Large) A standardised First Aid Kit containing mundane materials in a steel case. Provides a small bonus to healing when applied to a wound created through mundane means. Capacity 248/250 Sarah frowned, even as the window vanished before her eyes. Even if there were exactly 250 pieces to the kit, she¡¯d used more than 3 alcohol wipes doing prep alone, nevermind the disinfectant and bandages. The only way it made sense would be if it had 250 applications, which would be absurd: even back in real life, you usually needed to restock a Level C kit after 5 or so incidents, or maybe 10 minor ones. Sarah sincerely hoped that was the case: If she could perform first aid for 248 more people without needing a new kit, she¡¯d be ecstatic. Miriam, having already been bandaged, had her arm in a makeshift sling. Glancing down at her own Systemized item, she scrutinised it. Green Riding Hood (Common) A handmade riding hood created by a struggling apprentice, this garment provides a small degree of protection from weather, and a small increase in Stamina efficiency while in the wilderness. She looked at the description indignantly. She¡¯d already been exhausted at the end of their encounter with the coyotes, and that was with an item giving her more Stamina? She was left to her grumbling, even as she corrected herself. She didn¡¯t have more stamina, she could just use it more efficiently. Allegedly. John was standing guard, and pointedly made sure everyone else had done as George asked before inspecting his own equipment. The group''s conversation had moved on to next steps, and he tuned them out. He was fine with whatever was decided, so long as they stayed safe and together. Corruption Filter (Straw) (Common) A straw-shaped filter used as a crafting material in greater works with Pure, Water, Air, or Poison aspects. Can also be used to convert liquids into clean drinking water by direct use. Semi-armoured Boots (Common) A set of leather boots that provides a small bonus to defence. Contains an alloyed toe-cap the increases the defence bonus. Surplus Legionnaire Helm (Common) A cast-off of the standard issue gear issued to certain classes, this helm did not meet the requirements for distribution. Provides miniscule benefits to defence. Mitchell was too distracted to look at his own gear, though he didn¡¯t expect much out of boots and a shield. No, what had Mitchell distracted, even past the steady throbbing pain, was the dry tickle in the back of his throat. He was thirsty, and looking at all the gear the group brought, he made a sudden realisation: They had no water. John and Sarah had survival straws, a brilliant idea, if only they had a water source to use them with. No canteens, no bottles, no jugs. Mitchell, in his infinite wisdom, had overlooked the most basic of human needs - water. If he wasn¡¯t so busy propping himself up with one arm and holding his shield with the other, he would have facepalmed himself into next week. His heart plummeted like a stone in a well as he replayed every conversation he¡¯d had with the group about what to bring. Not once, not a single time, did he mention water. He must have been daydreaming of a magical oasis waiting for them at their destination. Classic Mitchell, always assuming the best and forgetting to plan for the worst. ¡°Stupid.¡± He muttered to himself, drawing a concerned look from Miriam. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Water.¡± He spat out of his dry mouth. ¡°We didn¡¯t bring any water.¡± Sarah, ever the lifesaver, raised a hand smeared with the day¡¯s trials. ¡°Easy, Mitch. I¡¯ve got a few bottles in my pack. But let¡¯s find a water source before we start dipping into our limited supply.¡± George, having secured the coyote skin to his pack, stood tall. ¡°And remember, we¡¯re in Niagara, or somewhere similar. There should be plenty of creeks, if not rivers. We aren¡¯t in the Sahara.¡± ¡°Just head down, right?¡± Mitchel suggested, touched at the clear attempt to cheer him up. ¡°I- Well- It¡¯s more complicated than that, but yes.¡± George turned away and idly petted his cat, glancing into the surrounding forest trees. Miriam, her voice echoing the urgency of their situation, declared, ¡°Either way, we need to move somewhere.¡± She gestured towards the lifeless form of one of the coyotes, its stillness a stark contrast to the vibrant life it once held. ¡°Something hungry is going to come along sooner or later for these guys.¡± The words hung in the air, a grim reminder of the circle of life. The wilderness was a place of survival, where every creature had a role to play, and death was merely a part of the cycle. The carcass would not go to waste; it would provide sustenance for the scavengers, the cleaners of the wild. They would in turn grow old, die, and become food themselves. Humans liked to think that they escaped the cycle with things like cremation, but they just delayed it. Mitchell frowned, his mind racing through the implications. ¡°Coyotes, vultures, insects¡­ do we have any more scavengers?¡± His question was more than a mere inquiry; it was a reflection of the harsh reality they were facing. George, ever the realist, spoke up easily. ¡°Worms, possums, raccoons, martens, ravens, foxes, some hawks, and¡­¡± He paused, leaving the last word unsaid. He chuckled lightly, attempting to lighten the mood, ¡°Doubt we¡¯ll find any of the last ones though, and even all banged up I bet even you two could take a fox or bird.¡± Civilization had always been a deterrent for wild creatures. The noise, the lights, the unfamiliar scents, all served as a warning to stay away. But now, they were far from civilization, far from the safety it provided. They were in the wilderness, where the rules of nature prevailed. ¡°Why do you doubt we¡¯ll find¡­ them?¡± John asked, picking up on George¡¯s hesitation. He was helping Sarah gather up the trash from the First Aid Kit, his hurried actions belying the tension that was slowly building up. George looked at him, his eyes reflecting a dawning realisation. ¡°Too far south. They wouldn¡¯t dare go to where¡­¡± His voice trailed off, the implication of his words sinking in. A chill ran down their spines as they all realised the gravity of their situation. The unspoken word hung in the air, a dire prediction of what was to come. Wolves. With nothing to stop them from hunting. To their credit, the group made somewhat good pace before they came across the first wolf a half hour later. It came out of a gap between trees, scarred and snarling and reaching up to Miriam''s chest in height. Yet, it was not what they expected. She tested something she had idly theorised about earlier when getting bandaged. Young Direwolf Pup Level 3 Analyze skill insufficient for more data ¡°Guys, Analyze works on creatures!¡± She called out, secretly cheering that it had worked. ¡°Direwolf, Level 3!¡± Mitchell struggled to keep his shield in between himself and the beasts snapping jaws. ¡°That¡¯s nice! Get it off me!¡± Not a second after he spoke, the weight lifted, and John finished his tackle. The two tumbled off to the side, slamming into a thick trunk with a grunt and a yelp of pain, and it was a frantic, bloody grapple for the briefest of seconds before John lifted its jaw and George smashed its throat in with a rock. Sarah was already tending to Mitchell¡¯s reopened wounds, and Miriam took a brief moment to feel guilty that she¡¯d been excited about something while her fiance was getting attacked. True to character, though, Mitchell did his best to joke lightly with Sarah during the aid, and didn¡¯t complain once as they resumed their march. The only sign he gave of being in pain was the occasional hiss of breath. The battered group continued, the sounds of howling wolves trailing behind them. It was a moment of almost silence before John spoke up. ¡°So¡­ I don¡¯t know about you guys, but when I think Direwolf, I think something much bigger.¡± George nodded. ¡°Yep. Bear-sized or bigger, in most media.¡± ¡°So if that was a pup¡­ and it took two of us to take it down¡­¡± The group hurried their pace. Mitchell spoke up through the pained limp, and the strain in his voice finally clued them in that he wasn¡¯t holding up as well as they¡¯d thought. ¡°Mammoths stand taller than any bear, with thicker skin and more dangerous weapons. Tell me, George, do mammoths still exist?¡± George¡¯s face brightened, and he began scanning the forest floor as they walked. With the injured parties, there was no change in pace. Sarah didn¡¯t follow. ¡°What do mammoths have to do with wolves?¡± Mitchell took a few more laboured steps. ¡°Who hunted the Mammoths to extinction?¡± ¡°Probably some dude named Ooga Booga.¡± John smiled, nudging his life partner. ¡°He¡¯s reminding us we¡¯re at the top.¡± ¡°Technically, no.¡± Miriam answered. ¡°Experts think that- well, they did think that we were removed from the food chain entirely. There are no ecosystems where humans are a regular source of food, and good luck establishing the food chain for an urbanite eating a poke salad and drinking an 8 fruit smoothie.¡± ¡°See? We¡¯re so rad, we break natural systems. Men hunt mammoth. Men hunt wolves. Men hun-¡± ¡°I think the plural of mammoth is actually mammoths.¡± George idly corrected, a small bundle of sticks in his arms. ¡°That¡¯s the point, there are no plurals of mammoths anymore except in a historical context.¡± ¡°Historical context? John, have you eaten a book since we last saw you?¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Ha ha. You know I trained my intelligence up to 5, right?¡± Mitchell pushed down the sense of wrongness he felt and worked to interrupt the coming discussion. ¡°You could train it up to 1000 and single handedly invent faster than light travel, George¡¯ll be George. Besides, didn¡¯t you know? He took too long getting some stats to 12, so his Intelligence is only 7 last he told me.¡± ¡°Heh. What stats?¡± ¡°Agility, Reflex, and Instinct. He¡¯s going for some sort of archer guy.¡± ¡°Ranger, damnit!¡± George turned and clarified, almost tripping over Nimbus in the process. The cat scurried up ahead with a hiss, then climbed to a low branch and watched the group pass, hopping between trees to keep up. ¡°Right, that. So basically, John, you now know, empirically, what you¡¯re better at than him.¡± ¡°Everything?¡± Mitchell grunted, having been yanked aside when George threw a stick at John in response. The larger fellow dodged it, just as deftly as Mitchell had diverted any discussion of the stats changing people fundamentally. It was one thing to bring your strength up and be able to lift more, the only personality change that would provide is improving self-confidence. Becoming more intelligent? Having more willpower? Honing your instincts? Practising and developing your Charisma? All of these were markers of who someone was at their core. To change that¡­ Well, it¡¯d be interesting to meet up with Bill if they made it through the tutorial. ¡°Got one!¡± Miriam called out, pleasure clear on her face. With a flourish she presented to George: a stick. He took it from her reverently, horseplay with John forgotten. ¡°Truly? This¡­ is for me?¡± Miriam nodded solemnly, even as her smile threatened to break into laughter. ¡°Verily, there is none for any other.¡± George grasped the stick and held it aloft. ¡°I. Have. The power!¡± Wooden Arrow (Poor) Hardly more than a sharp stick, the quality of this arrow is so poor it is guaranteed to break after the first shot, and has a 25% chance to miss completely. Sarah rolled her eyes at their antics, then flinched as the faint sound of a howl cut through the trees. Without a word between them, the group quieted down and concentrated on making their way through the woods. Their march was largely unimpeded. George was proficient enough to lead them around rougher terrain, and the one time a wolf pup found them again, he dispatched it with his bow and arrow, breaking one of his three. Considering it only took the one shot, though, he considered it a net gain. Even if the loot-goblin in his soul protested leaving the carcass behind. Mitchell was getting used to travelling on the injured leg. It had pained him terribly at the start, but at this point had faded to a dull, throbbing ache. He had spent his time trying to think of a weapon other than a sharpened stick to use, but everything always came back to materials: They had no metal, and none of them knew enough to work bone into something usable. They had no string or rope or shovels for making traps, nor any camouflage with which to hide. The only weapon among the five of them was George¡¯s bow. They had a fair spread of armour, though that would just ensure that they were defeated slowly. As the group ventured deeper into the wilderness, the howls of the wolves became a haunting melody that underscored their journey. Each encounter was a dance of danger and survival. George¡¯s bow sang as it released wooden arrows, each one miraculously finding its mark with deadly precision. Mitchell, despite his injury, stood firm, his shield a bulwark against the snapping jaws of the wolf pups. John fought with main strength, his size and bulk enough where he could easily hold a wolf back. Miriam sat back, covering Sarah and keeping an eye on their surroundings, who herself seemed to be keeping a close eye on the fighters. When a wolf was defeated, Sarah pushed forwards, applying hasty bandages and pouring disinfectant on wounds, but the damage was starting to accumulate. Bandages soaked with blood. Small cuts going untreated. There was simply no time. The encounters with the wolves were harrowing, but they served to strengthen the group¡¯s resolve. They learned to anticipate the wolves¡¯ movements, to strike first and strike hard. They learned to trust in each other, their survival hinging on their unity. After what felt like an eternity, the sound of rushing water reached their ears. Hope surged within them as they quickened their pace, the promise of fresh water spurring them on. As they emerged from the treeline, the sight of the river took their breath away. It flowed with a serene might, its waters glistening under the sun. The riverbank was dotted with pebbles, the water lapping at them gently. But they knew better than to let the serene scene lull them into complacency. They had learned the hard way that danger often lurked where least expected. As they approached the river in the fading light of sunset, they did so with caution, their senses heightened. They were not just survivors; they were fighters now, ready to face whatever the wilderness threw at them. A collapsed stone mill was the first building that any of them saw, and with hope of a place to rest on her mind, Miriam rushed forwards towards the building, caution abandoned in favour of a warm place with walls. ¡°Miri, no!¡± George¡¯s warning came too late. Miriam tripped over the round pebbles of the shore, falling flat on her face. As she pushed herself up, a massive bear charged out of the ruin. Its fur was brown and matted, and its heavy footsteps sent vibrations through the ground. Miriam froze as the beast tumbled over her, its paw scraping against her back and tearing her cloak free. Mitchell had already dropped his crutch and ran forwards, his mind screaming the whole while. Without practice from the wolves, Mitchell knew that he would not be able to advance. Without his own fiance being in mortal peril, he would¡¯ve limped his way forth. Without the gruelling training of the past week, he wouldn¡¯t have had the reaction time to notice and the willpower to push his injury down, deep, into a place where the pain couldn¡¯t stop him from doing what he had to. He remembered his brief lessons on leverage and how to hold a shield, and other lessons on centre of gravity. All of this combined meant that as the bear charged a second time at the prone woman, Mitchell was already there, standing in between her and it. For no other reason than hyping himself up, he slammed his fist against the front of his shield and bellowed with all his might. The bear impacted like a bus with claws, and Mitchell was barrelled over, rolling a few painful feet across the pebbles of the shore. It was enough, though, because it distracted the bear long enough for John to grab Miri under the shoulders and drag her to her feet, the two of them retreating to the tree line. George, meanwhile, was preparing to fight. He drew an arrow from his quiver, his hands shaking slightly. ¡°This one¡¯s a cub too? What¡¯s in the water here?!¡± he exclaimed, more to himself than anyone else. He released the arrow, watching as it sliced through the air. The glorified stick sunk itself into the bear''s haunch midstride, and the beast roared in pain, eyes looking for the trees even as time seemed to focus for Mitchell. He could almost see the paths stretching out before him, one where they ran and took their chances with the wolves, one where he ran to help the group, and one final gambit. It only took a brief moment to decide, and Mitchell moved. ¡°You¡¯d better not miss!¡± George only had a brief moment to realise that it was him being talked to, before he saw the plan unfold. Lifting his bow, he saw Mitchell drop his weight and take off, shield held before him. Drawing an arrow from his belt and nocking it, he saw the bear turn its gaze from the group at the treeline and towards the lone man charging it. A cold sweat erupted across the archers body as he drew the string and breathed, even as the clanging of claw striking shield and the screech of rending metal faded to background noise against the rhythm of his heart. ¡°Someone do something!¡± Miriam screamed. Mitchell stepped backwards, shield mangled and blood dripping from the arm behind it, but he bellowed again and swung the injured arm at the bears head. A snap of jaws, a horrified, pale face, and Mitchell stumbled back, blood spraying from a severed wrist as the shield clattered to the stone. Faster. No. George knew better than to rush, and took in his breath, letting it out slowly. Faster! NO! He finally loosed the arrow, a perfect shot, more straight and true than any he had ever released. He burst with pride, watching the trajectory head straight for the bear''s throat, a kill shot that should still disorient it long enough for Mitchell to make it out. It was with despair he saw the arrow fly, shiver in the air as if some force had acted upon it, then veer off into the underbrush. His hand scrambled at his belt even as he knew he had no more arrows, his own face going pale as he realised that Mitchell would die. And it was all his fault. He had missed. The next few moments were a blur for Mitchell, one that was hot and at the same time growing colder, full of action interspersed with peace. He saw John above him, dragging him away from where George stood, defiant and unarmed against the beast. He saw Sarah, pulling things out of the First Aid Kit with wild abandon, screaming at Miriam, who screamed back with a face red with anger and eyes wide with fear. He saw the sun, for a brief moment, before shade took over. With the stone, he barely realised he must have been dragged into the ruin. Miriam darted back out, and John scrambled with something on the floor. Mitch thought he was trying to speak to him. Why would someone speak to him? He was tired, and was trying to sleep. Yes, sleep sounded like the be- ¡°Don¡¯t you god damned dare!¡± Sarah kneeled over him, palm raised and bloody. She¡¯d worked so hard to keep them all safe, and now she was dirty. That wasn¡¯t fair. Mitchell tried to lift his hand to grab the bottle of alcohol that had been tossed to the floor, to try and help her clean. It would be a nice thing to do. ¡°Now answer the bloody question!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°How much intelligence does Miri have?!¡± John stopped himself short of shaking Mitchells shoulders, but it was close. ¡°She¡¯s the smartest.¡± Mitchell replied, confused. Didn¡¯t everyone know that? Nobody was smarter than her. John slapped him in agreement. ¡°The number, dumbass!¡± ¡°He¡¯s in shock, John! Take it easy!¡± Shock? How? There was no power anymore. ¡°Bzzt.¡± He said, explaining his sound reasoning. His leg stopped hurting, and he sighed in relief. ¡°Bzzt. Bzzt.¡± He tried, but it didn¡¯t fix the other hurt. John glanced at Sarah, their faces a mirrored expression of dismay and horror. ¡°Mitch, please buddy, please just keep it together for one more second. Just.. Just give me another buzz if her Intelligence is over 8.¡± Mitchell buzzed himself into unconsciousness with a smile on his face, thinking of how smart and wonderful Miri was and how excited she¡¯d be to learn about how one of his arms was hot and one of them was colder than ice.
Miriam didn¡¯t know what to do, and with George narrowly staying ahead of the bear as it crashed through the trees, she was running out of time. Sure, her mind was moving a mile a minute, and since her intelligence started going up, her thoughts were more ordered, and organised, and she found it much easier to come to definitive conclusions about things and feel confident in not needing another opinion. That was a stark contrast to before. Yet she couldn¡¯t help but think to herself: If this is what I return to when it comes down to it, did I really get better at all? So she fell back on the framework she had created for herself, during her hyper-lucid march. Define Problem That one was easy. There was a 6th level Spinebear Cub about to take a bite out of George. George is better with all of his flesh. Identify Solve-State Rather than finding a solution, she worked backwards. What results were what she wanted? Everything in her instincts told her that this wasn¡¯t the way to do it, but she trusted her past self, her rational self. The situation would be solved through many options. The bear left, the bear died, the bear found other food, the bear- it all boiled down to the bear, and it suddenly wanting to stop doing what was natural to it. Assets Available? She had her armour, though it wouldn¡¯t hold up better than Mitch¡¯s shield had. She had her hood, which was lying torn on the rivershore. She had her hygiene kit, but didn¡¯t think a spritz of chamomile scent would deter the creature overmuch. She thought about what she knew from home: was it brown bears or black bears that you¡¯re supposed to play dead with? Irrelevant, this was a Spinebear. In fact, she could see that the hair on its head wasn¡¯t clumped, but a pair of small horn nubs jutted from its brow. Her assets were herself, George if he could find another arrow, John acting as a corpsman and Sarah as Medic. They had brief survivability, but no way to put down the beast. Their best bet would be to make themselves not worth the fight, but if the ruins were its den, that just wouldn¡¯t happen. ¡°Miri, catch!¡± John bellowed from the ruins, tucking back into the door after whipping a stick at her. An arrow! Her mind whirled, gears shifting into an unseen realm. Assuming she caught the arrow, she needed to get it to the treeline and to George without the bear deciding she was easier prey. Her best strategy was to place the arrow in George¡¯s path, hoping he could retrieve it during his frantic evasion. If not, his demise was all but certain. She committed to her plan, selecting a point where a crooked branch could cradle the arrow. She dared not contemplate the arrow¡¯s fate should it be thrust into a- where was the point? Miriam barely managed to keep from stumbling. The arrow wasn¡¯t sharp! It was just a twisted piece of wood, what was John thinking?! What was she supposed to do with such a- Wand of Magic Dart Requires Intelligence 8 to wield. Invoke to cast the spell Magic Dart without utilising arrays or materials. Damage and range scale with Intelligence. A revelation struck her, as if a veil had been lifted. The plans and conditions she had considered rearranged themselves in an instant, and clarity dawned. She extended the stick in her hand, feeling incredibly exposed and foolish brandishing a stick at the monstrous creature. As George deftly ascended a branch to evade a swipe of the bear¡¯s paw, Miriam focused her gaze on the beast, marshalling her willpower, and thought with all her might: Invoke! At the tip of the stick - no, the wand - a brief cyan spark danced, tracing an intricate geometric pattern too complex to follow, leaving behind trails of faint blue light that shimmered even under the midday sun. In less than a blink, the residual blue energy left by the spark coalesced into a small blue line that quivered in the air, then shot off towards the Spinebear. She held her breath in anticipation, watching as the dart sped through the trees, growing dimmer as it travelled, until the blue light splashed against the bears flank with a soft popping sound. The bear roared, a mix of pain and surprise, and whipped its head around to glare at her, leaving George ignored. Miriam idly considered how she would never have done something like this before, as her arm pointed the wand steady at the bear. She felt ethereal, as if she was observing someone else control her body, but still she focused and still she poured everything she had into it. Invoke! Invoke! Invoke! Invoke! INVOKE! INVO- Miriam didn¡¯t even notice when she slipped into unconsciousness. She¡¯d been attacking a smouldering corpse. 6. Establishing Miriam came to in the dark of the mill''s ruins, her back sore and head pounding with agony. The bright blue light of a System Notification pierced through her eyelids, feeling like a thousand needles of luminance impaling her nerves. With a groan of pain, she forced an eyelid open to see what it was about, and had to blink a few times to get her vision unblurred. Still, she struggled to read through the headache. Congratulations! You have been granted a class for advancing your race to the fifth Mortal Level. Due to the nature of Human levelling, you are not given a choice, but one is given to you based on your actions and the Strings of Fate. You have been given the class: Arcane Acolyte. Arcane Acolyte (Rare Mortal Class) The arcane acolyte is a student of the underworkings of magic, using their knowledge of the basic rules of arrays and enchantments to create spells. Unlike other caster classes, the Arcane Acolyte must study and develop their own suite of spells. Stat increases: +10 INT, +6 WIL, +2 AGI, +2 INS. +5 INT, +3 WIL, +1 AGI, +1 INS per level. You have gained the class skill: Spellcasting Mastery. Spellcasting Mastery (Basic Class Skill | Upgradable) Grants knowledge and guidance regarding Basic level Arcane spells, and the ability to study and create Uncommon level Arcane spells Warning: MP is low! When MP reaches 1%, you will fall unconscious to recover. If MP reaches 0, you will fall into a Mana-starved state and will be unable to cast for a length of time determined by your recovery rate. You have been awarded an Arcane Acolyte Class Chest! Well, that explained the headache and thorough sense of oddness swimming around in her head. Thinking back, she had shot.. 7 darts? 6, maybe? Either way it was clear she had used too much of this ¡®MP¡¯ and had knocked herself - the bear! The window closed in front of her eyes as she frantically glanced around, taking stock of the situation. There were no sounds of combat, the sky through the collapsed roof was dark, and the faint, flickering glow of a campfire came from outside the door of the empty room. The firelight illuminated a small wooden chest, made with a dark wood and what looked like steel furnishings.The mill itself could hardly be called such - there was a heavy wooden beam that ran from inside to outside, but there was no millwheel nor waterwheel to provide power. She could solve that with an application of a basic rotation rune-script, so long as she could find or make a Water-Aspected momentum transfer rune-script to splice into it. She might need an extra rune or two to make them work together, but she already had a few ideas on which would work. Miriam blinked. What¡¯s a rune-script? Yet, she already knew. She knew about the layers of basic script forming an array on her wand. Thinking back, she even recognized the runes for Force, Travel, and Release in one of the layers, though the rest of the layers were filled with runes she didn¡¯t recognize. She rested her head back against the stone wall, wincing at the sore flesh making contact with the wall, then came to realise she wasn¡¯t too tired, just¡­ achy. With a groan of effort, she stood, stretching out slowly as she did her best not to think of runes or anything like it just yet. That was something to figure out when she didn¡¯t have such a pounding headache. Following the muted sounds of quiet conversation, she made her way out into the night where a group of four figures huddled around a crackling campfire. A few of them seemed to have some new gear. ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mitchell said, staring up at the stars. He hadn¡¯t turned to see her coming. She just stared at the empty place where his left hand should have been. He patted the healed stump on the log beside him. ¡°Come sit with me, hero.¡± She stumbled over, eyes locked to his arm. It was actually gone? It wasn¡¯t a trick? Listless, she fell into the seat beside him. She didn¡¯t know what to say. Mitchell glanced down at her, and she guiltily tore her eyes away from the ragged flesh. ¡°Does it bother you?¡± Miriam almost exploded at the way he asked that. Her?! ¡°Of course not!¡± She fired back, aware that the rest of the group was watching them, tense. ¡°Well it bothers me.¡± He said in a tone that suggested otherwise, and turned his head back to the stars. ¡°Not as much as this fills me with joy, though.¡± Her jaw dropped, and bit by bit her headache was making itself more prevalent. ¡°Some stars? You¡¯re really okay losing a hand to look at some stars?¡± He dropped his gaze again, and she caught his eye, noticing a spark of something other than the fire reflected within. ¡°Think beyond the apparent, Miri. I saved your life from a bear, no two ways about it. We made it through the first day, and some of the things we can- well, not me or John, yet - the things we can do would blow your mind. Even more, look.¡± Gently, with his remaining hand, he grasped her chin and pointed it towards the sky. She let him. Miriam caught her breath. The view was incredible. Unlike the light pollution of before, there was only one light near them, and if she turned around, she could see. Millions, at least. Bright, dim, in sweeping whorls and tight clusters the stars twinkled in the night sky in magnitudes greater quantity than she¡¯d ever seen before. It was almost difficult to see the darkness in between the pricks of light. She tuned back in to hear Mitchell talking. ¡°... and when it really comes down to it, we are the first. We¡¯re breaking new ground, treading new trails. Miri, this is a dream too good to be true for me, yet I¡¯m awake and my own arm is pinching me to remind me of it.¡± Miriam rubbed her forehead, trying to settle the pounding pain. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, the first to what?¡± Mitchell smiled knowingly. ¡°Do you remember when I taught you how to find the North Star?¡± With her intelligence as boosted as it was, she was able to recall easily. ¡°Big Dipper, follow the end of the spoon to the bright one.¡± He gestured at the sky with a ¡®go ahead¡¯ motion, and so she did. Her first problem was that she couldn¡¯t find the Big Dipper. As the frown grew on her face, she looked all around her, but was unable to find that configuration of stars that had been above her for the duration of her life. ¡°Where is it?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± George shouted, causing more than one of the group to jump. ¡°Quit this philosopher crap and just tell her.¡± Mitch glared over at George, who withered slightly under his gaze. ¡°What George is so eager to get to is that, whether the Earth has moved or we have, we aren¡¯t orbiting Sol anymore. We¡¯ve travelled through space.¡± ¡°And that makes it okay that you¡¯re crippled?¡± Mitchell flinched. ¡°I¡­ it might not be permanent, okay? Sarah got herself a Healer class and those are rare according to the system. She can only do basics right now, but she thinks with some study and reflection she might be able to figure out a regeneration spell that could fix it. Besides, my only regret is that I wasn¡¯t awake to see how you did that.¡± He gestured idly at the carcass. Now that she looked around, she noticed the skin had been removed, and a flat rock with messy cuts of meat sizzled next to the fire, George poking at it with an antique looking dagger. Overturned soil showed where they buried the offal, and despite all she had heard, the smell of cooking bear wasn¡¯t as awful as she expected. Out of her peripheral, John handed her cloak back, and she absently took it, wrapping it around her shoulders to ward off the chill of night. A golden glow rose from Sarah¡¯s hand, and she leaned her staff over to give her a tap on the top of her head. It felt like a thousand ants crawled from the tip of her scalp all the way down to her toes in a second, and she let out a violent shiver. ¡°Jeez, what was that?¡± ¡°Head still hurting?¡± Miriam shook her head negatively, the motion itself proof of fact. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°Only works on casters. Spell¡¯s called Mana Recycle. It¡¯s supposed to ease out the kinks in your system from MP damage, or in your case MP overuse. I¡¯m tapped out until morning though, Mitchell.¡± He smiled. ¡°Worth it.¡± Miriam returned to his previous statement about her taking down the massive bear and couldn¡¯t help but correct him. ¡°It wasn¡¯t really me, it was the wand.¡± She took that, too, when it was offered to her, but didn¡¯t have anywhere to put it so she just held it awkwardly in her hand. ¡°I just Invoked it as much as I could.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°You could have died.¡± Mitchell said coldly. ¡°Sarah told me about what happens when you hit 0 MP.¡± Her concern morphed into anger, no longer held back by the ache in her skull that had faded to a dull pulse. ¡°Like you¡¯re one to talk? Punching a fucking bear? Are you stupid, or suicidal?¡± Mitchells cold expression dropped, and he flinched when he went to rub his neck with the wrong arm. ¡°Stupid, I suppose, but I wasn¡¯t exactly flush with time. Someone decided to provoke a bear in its den and we had to act.¡± Miria¡¯s cheeks heated, recalling it was her impatience that had started it all. She stared back at the fire. There was a brief moment of silence, until George interrupted again. ¡°So we can all agree mistakes were made. Miriam charged in out of position, Mitchell stuck his hand were it shouldnt be stuck and I missed a critical shot. I think this is a good time for a bit of a speech. I''ve played enough videogames and read enough fantasy to know that during the fog of battle mistakes can and will happen. We can train all day and have perfect tactics but in the end one choice can change everything. So I guess what I''m saying is can we make an agreement not to hold any grudges on outcomes of future battles?¡± He stares at both Miriam and Mitchell a look of sorrow in his eyes. ¡°I''m sorry you lost your arm, I missed and thats the bottom line. I can''t take that back but I can do everything I can not too miss again.¡± Georges expression instantly changed to surprise as he gave the bear steaks one last flip. ¡°And that¡¯s two, baby!¡± He looked off into the middle distance, in what was quickly becoming the telltale sign of someone reading their menu, and a minute later turned to them with a pleased grin, even as blue sparks drifted from his feet up to his head. ¡°Hello friends, please meet your new Ranger-Cook combo!¡± He declared, even as he tossed the rock with the sizzling steaks into the river. ¡°That would¡¯ve been trash and gotten us poisoned! Did you know that Spinebear is poisonous when not prepared properly? I do now! I mean, I knew it was poison, but now I know how to cook it anyway. Pretty cool, right?¡± As George went and carved a new strip of meat from near the Spinebear¡¯s¡­ well, spine, Sarah huddled against John, looking tired herself, and Miriam decided to take stock. ¡°So George has Ranger and Cook. I hate to say it, but you¡¯re probably going to be on hunting/cooking duty for the foreseeable future. Sarah got Healer¡­ I assume that¡¯s MP based healing?¡± The woman nodded in response. ¡°It¡¯s pretty involved. I don¡¯t just have a ¡®Heal¡¯ spell, I¡¯ve got a suite of First Aid spells. I had to cast four different ones just to get Mitchell stabilised, and he¡¯ll need a few more Hemo-Rejuvenation casts before he¡¯s back to proper. I just need more rest first, MP¡¯s too low.¡± Miriam nodded. That sounded proper. She¡¯d always had struggles with healing spells in games. Say you were hit by an arrow: Did the heal spell force it out? Did the arrow parts inside the body just disintegrate? Where does the wood fibre go? Now it sounded like Sarah would either yank it out or cast a spell to remove it, a spell to disinfect, and then a spell to close and another to repair? Not fortunate for them, but she hoped Sarah would be able to develop and study her own spells, just like her. ¡°Well, I got one too.¡± She announced proudly. ¡°I am an Arcane Acolyte. I use the basic rules of magic to make my own spells.¡± Sarah squinted. ¡°You didn¡¯t even get one?¡± A frown followed. ¡°No? Why, did you?¡± ¡°Oh yea, I¡¯ve got 12 spells. I have one for removing radiation damage, and another for settling mental effects, so I¡¯m pretty sure I can already provide better healthcare than a fully-stocked hospital. At least, for one person.¡± She happily explained as George handed out thin slices of the meat. It was unspiced, but it reminded Miriam of beef. Or chicken. Or¡­ well maybe it didn¡¯t remind her of anything. Sarah took a bite then asked. ¡°What¡¯d you get in your chest?¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t opened it yet.¡± Miriam admitted ¡°Huh. Well, don¡¯t wait too long. I got a robe that takes all the chill out of the night. Plus, it¡¯s got pockets. Then a staff to help me heal, and some shoes, and a bag full of a bunch of useful stuff.¡± She pulled at the sleeves of the long, white robe. To her, it looked like a monk¡¯s habit, but then again she¡¯d never done any sort of research into monasteries so even with her boosted intelligence she couldn¡¯t recall. George spoke up. ¡°I got a bow, which is John¡¯s now, and a quiver to hold my arrows. Quiver lets me summon arrows if I run out but its pricey, with my MP I¡¯d only be able to do three or four before I¡¯d be tapped out.¡± Mitchell chimed in. ¡°They¡¯re stronger and don¡¯t miss as often, though.¡± ¡°Yea, that¡¯s true. Got a set of leather armour too, and a pack full of ¡®useful stuff¡¯. Think of a class pack from our tabletop.¡± John plopped her chest beside her seat by the fire, having retrieved it from the ruins during the conversation. ¡°You¡¯re like the parents on Christmas. Open it already!¡± Miriam sighed and pushed the lid open, flinching when the chest disappeared and a bundle of items attached to a pack appeared. The most obvious was a staff, a folded set of robes, and a heavy tome in some sort of leather harness, all secured to the pack. ¡°There, I opened it. Now, I¡¯m exhausted, so Mitchell and I are going to bed.¡± She rolled her eyes at the jeers and scooped up the roughspun pack, turning to the fire to wait for her crippled fiance. He grimaced. ¡°Actually, I was going to take a watch. If anything shows up, I want first crack at it. Maybe I can get myself a class before morning so I¡¯m not holding us back.¡± Miriam stood and grabbed his only working hand. ¡°No. We¡¯re going to sleep until morning, then you¡¯re going to help me make my first spell.¡± He protested even as he followed. ¡°Why so soon? You have the wand, and I don¡¯t even have a weapon.¡± Their argument devolved into mutters and sweet whispers as they made for and entered the ruins. John¡¯s eyes flickered over to the raised dirt where they had buried the corpse of the man they had found within the ruins. He again felt unsettled and let a shiver pass through him. It was unnatural. Sarah had said that body had been there for over a year, but this all only started last week.
The dawn of the next day rose with the sickening stench of rotting flesh and the yipping of coyotes as they stripped the carcass of the bear clean. George was the first to awaken, and quietly awoke Miriam as well, keeping her quiet and bringing her to the door. She frowned. ¡°I thought you said it was poisonous.¡± He scoffed lightly. ¡°Yea, to us. Those little guys have stronger guts than we do. Or I guess more Constitution, now. Did you get any from your class?¡± ¡°My brother in-¡± Miriam froze, a thought suddenly occurring to her. ¡°Wait, do you think Sarah could¡¯ve gotten Cleric instead of Healer? Nevermind. Yea, I got nothing for CON. Just what we trained up before. I think we¡¯re getting distracted, though?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Young Coyote Juvenile Level 4 Analyse skill insufficient for more data Processing¡­ Analyse skill has been upgraded to Identify (Common). Young Coyote Juvenile Level 4 HP - Low MP- None Stamina - Medium Upgrade Identify for more data ¡°Well that¡¯s new.¡± George muttered to himself as he fit an arrow to the string of his bow. There appeared to be four coyotes total, and he bet he could hit two, especially now that his arrows weren¡¯t arbitrarily missing their marks. ¡°What¡¯s new?¡± ¡°Analyse got switched to Identify. These guys have low HP, no MP, and moderate Stamina.¡± George replied, still staying quiet. Miriam squinted her eyes. Young Coyote Juvenile Level 4 Analyse skill insufficient for more data Processing¡­ Analyse skill has been upgraded to Scan (Uncommon). Young Coyote Juvenile Level 4 MP - None MP Skills - None ¡°I just got Scan instead, which says they don¡¯t have any MP skills.¡± ¡°Compare them after this?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± In an odd turn of events, it was easier for the two to keep their minds focussed on the enemy before them than think about the implications of upgraded skills. Miriam knew she could think her way down a rabbit-hole, and so the easiest thing for her was just to accept the system. In a way, it was good: It had quantified many things she¡¯d wanted quantified in her life. For a brief moment, she panicked, realising she hadn¡¯t taken her medications the night before, but in a now practised mental motion, swept it aside to think about later. George, on the other hand, was ecstatic about the system. He¡¯d been an avid reader and watcher of all things Isekai and here he was, in a world similar enough to his own he had the advantage yet with added fantastical elements that he could learn about and discover. Two classes, as well, though he had yet to level either of them. The main bonus from the classes was that ethereal lightning bolt. Or was it the skill? His limbs moved smoother than before, with less weight. He felt like he was holding a toy bow, and when he pulled back on the string he could feel the quivering and uneven bending of the weapon. With no expectations, he aimed and loosed. It was surprisingly easy for the two of them to take down their quarries, though not as quiet as they had hoped. A single arrow brought down the first coyote, and two Magic Darts from Miriam took down the second, though at this closer range, she felt like more of the force was being transferred to the target. It was certainly a louder pop, like bubble wrap instead of soap bubbles. Between the two ranged combatants, half the coyotes were dead before they knew where their attackers were, and the other two failed to flee in time. ¡°Jerks!¡± Mitchell called out, struggling to rise out of his bed - which happened to be his cloak draped over him and a rock for a pillow. ¡°Nefarious plotters. Detrimental thugs, juvenile cretins!¡± A foot lashed out, and silence reigned for a second before a muttered. ¡°Ow. But they stole the kills. I need a class.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± John said severely. ¡°Class or no class, we¡¯re only waking up because those coyotes probably smelled the bear stench on the ruin and thought there was another one in here. Otherwise all of us would have woken up with teeth in our throats. We build a wall today.¡± His tone brooked no chance for argument, and Mitchell dragged himself to his feet, wondering how he was supposed to help with only one hand. He also wondered if he was expected to tell Miriam that he wouldn¡¯t be able to help her with spells today, but seeing Sarah make a beeline for her, he left it to the Healer. 7. Fortification It turns out, Mitchell could build a wall and help Miriam with her spell. Part of George¡¯s ranger pack included a small hatchet, which would be enough to fell a tree, if slowly. The three made the decision to use the tree line for a wall, then have open areas for gates on the riverbanks, at the north and south of the clearing. Mitchell was cutting the nearby branches with the hatchet while George and John looked nearby for nice, straight trees to use for lumber. The branches would be used for firewood, but they still needed to be harvested and it was easier to strip them before the trees were felled. John had noted that the branches and trunks would impede sightlines, and that if it were up to him he would clear the trees two bow shots in every direction. After George made a bow shot, they had scrapped that idea and resorted to making themselves a little fort, instead of a modern military base. It would be more bushcraft than construction. A bow shot was much further than they could clear in a week, let alone double. Around midday, the two men returned from the nearby forest, and surprisingly George held a pair of jackrabbits in one hand while the other waved animatedly in conversation with John. The Ranger broke off to the fire, which Sarah had kept going while helping Miriam, to skin and cook the catch, while John came over to collect a bundle of branches. ¡°So I got some info on the Ranger class.¡± Mitchell raised an eyebrow, carefully tucking a branch under his right arm with the others. Luckily, with healing magic, his arm hadn¡¯t been out of use long enough to atrophy so he was able to hold a few branches with clamping strength, but he still had to put them all down to cut a new branch. ¡°Elaborate.¡± ¡°Well, it turns out when you get your class, you get two levels worth of stat boosts. Oh, you get stats at every level based on class and second class. Like, example, each Ranger level gives him 5 Agility and a couple other smaller boosts to stats, then his Cook class will give him 3 Reflex and some secondary stats. He leveled Ranger once out there, that¡¯s why he¡¯s off to cook. Bringing Cook to 6 should bring his racial level to 6, which means he gets our human bonus to all stats from that.¡± ¡°Is there no other way to raise your stats?¡± Mitchell asked, worried. ¡°Just doing some math, 5 agility a level means he¡¯ll be ten times faster than me in ten levels, if I don¡¯t get agility too.¡± ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen you¡¯ll get some kind of defender class.¡± Mitchell scoffed. ¡°Sure, I like shields, but not that much. Besides, that means you should get Canid Wrestler or some crap like that.¡± John raised his arms and flexed. ¡°Probably comes with Strength, so I¡¯d be down.¡± Mitchell couldn¡¯t help but laugh, though it quickly died when the movement caused him to drop the small bundle of branches he was carrying. John looked at him with pity, which didn¡¯t settle well in Mitchell¡¯s mind, and grabbed the branches off the forest floor. ¡°Just do the hatcheting, I¡¯ll clean up. At least until lunch.¡± Mitchell nodded, his throat tight as he got back to work, swinging the hatchet awkwardly and taking multiple blows to take off branches he now suspected John could just snap off with his bare hands. Lunch was not more than an hour later, and the group reconvened around juicy rabbit meat. Mitchell, desperate for distraction, asked Miriam how her spellcraft was coming. She laughed, a bright smile on her face. ¡°I haven¡¯t started! That book in my kit has the rules of magic. I haven¡¯t made any spells yet, but we did develop a new one for Sarah. Who wants to be a guinea pig?¡± Mitchell raised his stumpy hand with a shadow of hope. ¡°Always ready to be healed.¡± His fiance shivered. ¡°Not me. Feels like mini slinkies moving through my muscles. Besides, this isn¡¯t a heal. Sarah, hit ¡®im.¡± ¡°Aye, teach!¡± Sarah stood from her stump and twirled her staff, whacking it against Mitchell¡¯s shoulder lightly. ¡°Ouch.¡± Mitchell said absently, even as what felt like a cottonwood fire burnt outwards from the point of impact. Not burning, but a quick flash of heat spreading in a wave over his skin until it reached the opposite fingertips and faded. ¡°So, uh¡­ what was that supposed to do..?¡± Miriam glared at him. ¡°It¡¯s a cleaning spell. Both visible and disinfecting, while not sterilising beneficial bacteria. The cleaning part was easy, but to have it spread and not kill a layer of skin required much more work than I thought it would.¡± True to her description, Mitchell felt the dank moisture of his sweat wick away into nothing. He gave himself a sniff as Miriam kept talking. ¡°We¡¯re still working on it, I want to add scents but I can¡¯t seem to figure out a way to make the scent without using a material component. It should be possible, but it¡¯s like I¡¯m missing some law or rule that would let me bridge the gap.¡± ¡°What about your own spells?¡± John asked, concerned. Miriam waved it off. ¡°I can make a spell later. This is good for me to learn foundations, and we were both curious if Sarah could make her own spells anyways. She can, she just doesn¡¯t get the help that I do.¡± Sarah scoffed. ¡°Yea, I just got an automatic medical doctorate downloaded into my head. So unhelpful.¡± ¡°Compared to the actual laws of Arcanum? Nah, I win. How¡¯s the wall going?¡± Mitchell grumbled guiltily. ¡°Slow.¡± ¡°Quick.¡± George said at the same time, the two looking at each other confused. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve already marked the perfect trees for the wall, measured and scored them, and cleared out a path to drag them back.¡± John nodded. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be more than a few days. It¡¯d be quicker-¡± he coughed with a glance in a certain person¡¯s direction, ¡°but we don¡¯t have a proper axe.¡± Mitchell kept quiet, knowing his contribution was small and almost irrelevant, and simply listened to the group as he nibbled on the rabbit leg George had cut for him. It turned out well, and he even gave a half-hearted cheer with the rest of the group when George announced that he had hit level six in his Cook class and the Human class had gone up too. If his maths were correct, George had over 25 agility, giving him the highest stat so far. He¡¯d thought himself prepared. He¡¯d trained for a week, bringing all of his stats up above 7, with most of them being at 10. He¡¯d thought long and hard on which items to bring, and the guy who brought a bow but no arrows was currently in the lead. He only hoped Nimbus didn¡¯t share the stat bonuses. Mitchell didn¡¯t think he could stand being overpowered by a cat.
John didn¡¯t know what to do about Mitchell. He was acting down, and self-pitying. It made sense in the context of it all but they needed him to stop bringing down the general mood. It was almost miraculous that morale had kept up, though it was only the second day. He knew why. There wasn¡¯t time to think. It worked for him, and the girls had their hands full studying magic- actual, true to life magic. George had Nimbus, and the pleasure of being the most capable and useful of the group. John himself had work to do, and so he wouldn¡¯t be thinking about classes and such until it was done. Mitchell was stuck in his head. He¡¯d thought that giving him the branch work would help, but by the time he got back he could tell that was far from the truth - the time alone had only eaten away at his confidence. After he¡¯d eaten and spent some time with Sarah, he would see what he couldn¡¯t do to help him out. Sarah didn¡¯t know what to do either, though she had more ideas, having gone through a crisis counselling program. Or rather, her medical knowledge also contained information on psychology, including crisis counselling. ¡°It¡¯s a classic example of reduced capabilities in a situation that calls for capability. He¡¯s a soldier who runs out of ammo before the enemy makes a big charge. I¡¯d be listless too.¡± That helped John understand. ¡°Then¡­ can¡¯t we just give him some ammo?¡± Sarah glared at him. ¡°What do you think we¡¯ve been trying to do? Leave the boys to build the wall while us women sit around with our books? No, Miriam thinks that if I can teach her more about my spells, she can help me develop some way to regrow the hand.¡± John almost dismissed that as impossible, but Sarah had said it with complete confidence. ¡°You think that¡¯s actually feasible?¡± ¡°Check Mitchell¡¯s fingernails next time you see him. They should have grown about an inch by tonight.¡± John¡¯s eyes opened wide. ¡°Sarah!¡± She smirked at him. ¡°John.¡± ¡°I.. You just..¡± John floundered for a moment, unsure why it upset him so much. ¡°You can¡¯t just do that to someone without telling them.¡± ¡°He literally said ¡®I¡¯m always down for some healing¡¯! What, so if you¡¯re bleeding out and unconscious you don¡¯t want me to cast Hemoregeneration? I¡¯m adding blood to your body after all, it could violate your autonomy.¡± John didn¡¯t like the prickly attitude. ¡°It¡¯s not about autonomy! It¡¯s about saying you were going to do one thing and doing another.¡± Sarah raised her hand, listing off points as she raised each finger. ¡°First, it was Miriam that got permission and told me to, but I¡¯m not saying I was following orders, just that you¡¯re misplaced in placing blame - assuming we agree something wrong was done. Secondly, we never told him what we were going to do, he just agreed to it and we told him that it was a cleaning spell after. Which it is, by the way, it¡¯s just that the cleaning was a byproduct of what we were trying rather than the point. I could explain the theory behind addition of matter and how my Disinfect spell was the only one that interacted with that aspect of Arcana, but I won¡¯t bore you. Finally, I¡¯d lie straight to his face, because he¡¯d still thank me once he woke up and was whole again.¡± John listened, his face growing more stern until she finished. ¡°I understand your reasoning, and I don¡¯t want you to pass me over for healing. I still feel like it was wrong, though.¡± Sarah threw her hands into the air in exasperation. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll go tell him what¡¯s up, and you can go lug entire trees around in front of the man who¡¯s currently struggling to collect branches.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. John didn¡¯t have time to respond before she left the cool shade of the ruins and headed for the treeline. After a brief moment of guilt and frustration he made to follow her, but Miriam quickly stole his time as he had distracted her study partner.
Sarah was understandably riled up, even though nobody had really done anything wrong. Quickly she realised the source of her frustration - she¡¯d worked all morning with Miri on that spell, and while it wasn¡¯t done yet, it was still good work. With no reference, she couldn¡¯t tell if it was below or above average time for a spell but a part of her suspected creating spells at all was beyond most people. Without Miriam, she¡¯d not have been able to, and would be stuck with her suite of a dozen various medical spells. She didn¡¯t want a lecture on the ethics of it. She wanted John to look at her with that proud gaze on his face and give that little nod he gave, telling her she''s done well. She¡¯d expected that to happen. Ducking under a branch in the general direction that Mitchell had been working, she started some deep breathing exercises to cool down and get into a mindset where she could help him. In her knowledge, she would eventually be able to regenerate limbs, but that was an ability of a higher tier, and her spells didn¡¯t even touch on the concepts involved so she was largely left to hypothesise on how it worked or if it even existed. For now, the main injury was mental. She imagined the increased Willpower from the system was what even allowed him to get up this morning. She¡¯d read stories of people wasting away after a maiming, losing purpose in life. She wouldn¡¯t let that happen to him. Cooled, she began going through what she recalled on disabled people, or persons with disabilities depending on what they prefer. The key was to treat him as a person first. Her Strength was poor, so she could go and ask him for help, offering her own in return. That would be a good way to start a conversation. She knew she had to tell him about their attempts to fix him, though she wouldn¡¯t put it that way. She¡¯d put it as ¡®If it were me, I¡¯d want to have my body whole¡¯. That might work, though that only solved her own problem. She knew she was supposed to encourage his independence, so she pre-committed to helping him if he asked. She already knew she would, but the pre-committing might help her react quickly enough where he¡¯d see it as an ¡®of course¡¯ rather than a ¡®oh, I have to help the cripple¡¯. She¡¯d make sure she complimented him on his reaction to the injury so far, noting that he was barely limping at all anymore, to draw his attention to his strengths. Goals helped, realistic ones, so when she helped with the branches she¡¯d measure their pace and set a point to finish at. Getting to that point should provide a confidence boost as well, and get him back to making goals and plans to achieve them. She knew there was more she could do, but she didn¡¯t want to throw the entire book at him. It took her the better part of an hour to find him, and when she did it was because she¡¯d heard a loud crash and a whoop of joy. The first thing she did was cast the new cleaning spell on his prone form. He was conscious, but his chest was heaving with the effort to regain his breath, and the cause was clear - an absolutely mangled tree stump with the hatchet stuck into the base. The three foot thick tree trunk lay on the forest floor, completely cleared of branches for the first ten feet, and Mitchell pushed himself up on his elbows beside it, face red and drenched with sweat but face split wide in a grin. ¡°Oh, hey there Sarah. Thanks for the clean, though I¡¯m still probably going to go for a swim later.¡± Her brain short-circuited. ¡°No problem.¡± Her mouth seemed to say of its own accord. ¡°Did you want a hand?¡± He stared at her, and her brain caught up with what she just said. Horror began to dawn on her face as she realised her words. After all the prep? All the study, I make a joke by accident? He raised an eyebrow as she waited for the response. ¡°With.. swimming? I think I can manage.¡± ¡°The tree. Would you like a hand with the tree?¡± She screamed in her mind. Why?! Why did I say it again? He coughed. ¡°If you think you can, then by all means. I was gonna mark it and get John to do it though.¡± She sighed, glad nothing came of her faux-pas. ¡°Good, I don¡¯t think I could¡¯ve carried that.¡± Mitchell went quiet for a moment, before reaching his good hand out to the sky. ¡°Help me up?¡± She did, noting that he seemed heavier than he should be for his size. This time, though, she declined to comment, as she noticed her brain running through hand-related words to avoid. The one-handed man turned about, gazing into the forest. ¡°So, did you just come out here to make hand jokes?¡± Sarah sighed again. He¡¯d noticed. ¡°No, I came out here to talk to you.¡± Brushing off the fallen trunk, Mitchell dropped down, pulling a water bottle from a small pack she¡¯d not seen tucked behind a tree. Taking a deep drink, he cleared the trunk next to him and offered the water. She took a seat, but declined the drink. ¡°Well, talk. What¡¯s got you?¡± She sighed in frustration. ¡°Honestly, Mitchell, it¡¯s you. What the hell¡¯s going on in your head?¡± A look of puzzlement and offence flashed across his face for a brief moment before he schooled his features. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You lost a hand. You were moping for all last night and the morning. Now you seem fine.¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s life. Always been that way. You do your best to roll with the punches, but sometimes you duck when you should¡¯ve weaved and end up clocked in the jaw by the long arm of life. Yea, I lost a hand. Did you know that my stomach is fixed though?¡± ¡°Your stomach? What¡¯s wrong with your stomach?¡± Mitchell paused, taking another drink. ¡°Work and talk? I want to get one more tree felled before dinner, and with you here I think we can go for a bigger one. I wonder what George caught this time?¡± ¡°He¡¯s just making the rabbit into stew, I think.¡± Sarah recalled. ¡°¡®Just making stew,¡¯ she says.¡± Mitchells stomach growled, and he smiled. ¡°Sounds delicious. C¡¯mon, the harder we work the hungrier we¡¯ll be and the better it will taste.¡± Sarah began to regret coming out here. The two walked through the forest, Mitchell inspecting trees and declaring them ¡®not right¡¯ or ¡®not today¡¯. She couldn¡¯t tell what metric he was using to determine that, but eventually he came across a tree that had a small score in the trunk, and he moved towards it, pressing his palm up against it and closing his eyes. Not five seconds later, they snapped open, and where was once easy-going banter she found solid, cold determination. ¡°This one.¡± With a thunk, the hatchet buried itself into the trunk, Mitchell¡¯s one good arm holding the handle. With another, wood chips sprayed out from the impact, and he began working the hatchet. It¡¯d be a while before he was through. Without preamble, Mitchell starting speaking between swings of the hatchet. ¡°When I was younger, maybe 15 or 16, my family went to church every week. Baptist. It was a funny religion. Dunk yourself into a tank, and all your sins are washed away and you can get into Heaven. ¡®Why not just do a dunk right before you die?¡¯ I always thought, ¡®then you can do whatever you want.¡¯ But my youth pastor, he said that in order for Baptism to be real, you have to truly mean it. You have to regret your actions and be ready to atone for them, which meant if I did evil with the intent of saying sorry later, I would never truly be able to regret such an action in the eyes of God.¡± Sarah nodded along, unsure why he was bringing this up. ¡°That checks out. It¡¯s like the rich evading taxes. They just pay them when they get caught and say sorry, but we all know they¡¯re just gonna do it again.¡± Mitchell paused for a chuckle. ¡°Yea, that¡¯s a good one. Anyways, so we went to church every Sunday. Well, that part of my family did. I was with my dad every other weekend, so I only went to church half of the time.¡± ¡°Divorced parents?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know that? Huh. Yea, my parents divorced when I was around 7. Pa was a cheater and Ma was a manipulator, so I¡¯m surprised they even made it that far. They were nasty to each other and didn¡¯t do much to keep me or my brothers out of it.¡± ¡°But that wasn¡¯t your fault.¡± Sarah at least knew what to say here. Mitchell looked at her with - was that pity? ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t my fault. I knew that from the start, even when one or the other would get drunk and say it was.¡± Her heart raged at that. She knew all too well what an effect on a kid something like that could have. ¡°You were talking about church.¡± She supplied, hoping to get him back on track. ¡°Right. Well, it was hard to truly be a part of the community when I was only there half the time. My mother had remarried, see, and her new husband was very much into the church, though was very much not a practising Christian outside of it. There was tension. Eventually I found the hypocrisy to be too much when he was accepted as an elder, and I left the church.¡± ¡°That must have been hard.¡± ¡°It¡­ wasn¡¯t. Not really. I¡¯d always thought the grass was greener on the other side, and I dove in. Drugs, girls, fights, you name it, within a year of leaving the church I¡¯d done all three. With so much being different, I started to change too. Less sure. Less trusting. Less compassionate. Then eventually my mental health started to slide, and I fell into depression.¡± ¡°Did you..?¡± ¡°Yea, I did. The night before an easter service, I stayed up until 2 in the morning. When everyone was asleep, I snuck into my mom¡¯s medicine cabinet, grabbed the bulk bottle of extra strength painkillers and took them all, 4 pills at a time. When the doctors pumped my stomach, they said it was at least 54.¡± ¡°Ibuprofen¡­¡± Sarah couldn¡¯t decide wether to sigh or hug the man beside her, but he moved on. ¡°Yea. Turns out, Overdosing means different things for different drugs, so all I got was trip to the hospital, a stay in the psyche ward, and further isolation out of it. Oh, and a severely damaged stomach lining. Spicy foods would make me puke, milk never sat well, and whenever I drank any drink with fizz, the shock of it sent me into hiccups. Every. Single. Time.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound too bad.¡± ¡°No, it really wasn¡¯t. Not compared to what could have happened.¡± ¡°And you say¡­ it¡¯s fixed now?¡± Mitchell took a break and beamed at her. ¡°It is! I can¡¯t wait to find or make some kind of beer so I can drink it in peace. Tonight''s stew would¡¯ve been too rich to eat, but now I¡¯m looking forward to it. If life gets back to normal, I¡¯ll be able to take oral medicine again without specific dosages. My mind is clear, my depression a memory, and all I had to do was lose a hand? The only thing I¡¯d change is which hand, that one was my favourite one. I hope it at least tasted good.¡± He returned to chopping, and she couldn¡¯t think of any other way so she just blurted it out. ¡°We¡¯re working on a spell to fix it!¡± The rhythmic thunk of the hatchet was replaced by a skitter as the hatchet failed to bite into the trunk and buried its head in the dirt at its base. Mitchell stared at the hatchet. ¡°Thanks for your help, Sarah, but I think I want to finish this tree alone.¡± ¡°Are you sure? I could stick around, just to lo-¡± ¡°Alone is good.¡± He answered, gaze not wavering from where he stared at the small axe. Sarah ran through multiple objections in her mind, the main one being that she didn¡¯t want to leave a cripple out in the woods when there were wolves about. Other than George, the rest of them really should be travelling in pairs. It tended to dissuade lone attackers. George just killed anything that attacked him, if Nimbus didn¡¯t get there first. She only found one that would make any sense and have a chance of working, but if she was wrong it could damage things irreparably. Like his hand? She went for it. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re planning, I want in.¡± Mitchells gaze snapped from the hatchet to her face and his eyes were heavy with consideration. Apparently he found what he was looking for, because he nodded. ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± He finally answered, and internally she let out a cheer. She¡¯d been right! Sarah spit onto a nearby bush, something she¡¯d not normally do but felt right in this situation. ¡°You don¡¯t get to tell me what I do and don¡¯t want.¡± ¡°Fine. You can come if you promise to stop distracting my fiance with this stupid ¡®fixing me¡¯ bullshit. She has precisely one combat ability. ONE! She¡¯s in more danger than I am!¡± Sarah grit her teeth. ¡°It¡¯s not a waste, but fine. I¡¯ll let you tell her yourself when we get back though.¡± He nodded. ¡°Deal. Did you forget anything?¡± She gestured at herself, wearing the robes and carrying her staff. ¡°Like what?¡± He pried the hatchet out of the tree. ¡°Then come on.¡± ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going out, and I¡¯m not coming back until I have a class and can carry my own weight.¡± ¡°So¡­ nowhere?¡± He shrugged and gave a half-hearted gesture into the woods away from camp. ¡°I have a good feeling about that way.¡± ¡°A good feeling¡­ You¡¯re lucky I already agreed.¡± Half-felled tree left behind, the duo made their way into the forest, one in search of adventure and the other trying to keep the first safe. Neither of them saw the hooded figure retreat back into the forest in the other direction, face pale from the close call where that woman had almost spit on him. 8. Reckless I Survivors Remaining: 4685/5000 Miriam shut the dialogue she¡¯d been habitually checking since the start of the Tutorial. Over 300 dead. It was tough to reconcile that with their own experience. The flight from the forest creatures had been deadly and dangerous, yes, but it looked like whatever force had placed her in the middle of a coyote pack had been merciful today. She watched as John dragged another tree into place, the pair of him and George working quickly to place a new tree every hour and a half. At this pace, they¡¯d at least have a barrier to denote their space, which should prevent at least some intrusion by animals as they took the path of least resistance. The afternoon sun was hot, and she lifted her hair off the back of her neck - thick black waves trapped the sun''s heat a little too well for her liking. Enjoying the brief break, she again bent over the tome that had been granted to her as a part of her class. It was written in odd, geometric symbols, with esoteric diagrams, but she read it like a picture book, the language barrier non-existant to her. Currently she was studying up on mental spells, as even the book said it was the hardest: Of the eighteen forms of magic, mind magic tends to be the most complicated and least useful to the average practitioner. Mind magic is not inherently weak, rather, it is strong. However, the principles of mind magic require that aspect to be channeled with precision, not volume. Using the third YYzik Equation, arcane energy is aspected in accordance with the target: Severity, Flow, Resonance, and Intent must all be carefully balanced in order to create any sort of personal or specialized effect - rather, the most common usage of mind magic is to overwhelm an enemies defenses or to guard your own mind against hostile influence. Knowing the eleven attributes of your target, one can begin performing the required calculations to create the framework of the spell. Taking the Hertz Physical Coefficient, utilize a Gantz-Neumman array of radius c where c is the total Constitution score of the target multiplied by their Fortitude, then divided by their Leveled Weight Average. Note that this does not apply to multi-levelled species, and¡­ Miriam managed to keep at it for two entire hours, taking a brief break to watch the next log get placed, before she started gaining a bit of a headache. She had to constantly flip back and forth to the glossary at the back and her spot, and was finding that mind magic was going to be very difficult, but she kept at it. She was on a timeline, after all, and after tonights dose she would be out of medication. She had to heal herself before then. As the sun began to set, George went off to look for the other two. Miriam wasn¡¯t too worried - Mitchell knew his limits. Giving herself a break, she flipped back to the front of the tome, thin sheets of paper fluttering in the miniscule breeze. Another reference had her flip to the third chapter, which was about spell modifications. She decided she wanted to have at least a little bit to show for her day of effort, besides for a headache and a mind full of equations that made no sense. Maybe that''s why mind magic existed? To help you cope with learning mind magic? With the wand in her hand, she cast a dart at the river, sending a small plume of water a few inches into the air and rejoicing at the reminder that she was an authentic acolyte of the arcane. Not a minute later she could be seen with a frown on her face. She invoked the instrument again watching as the arrays formed around the tip and as the energy accumulated in the lines and power crackled in the spaces. She squinted, noticing a large amount of the gathered energy - mana, maybe? Magicka? Her status just said ¡®MP¡¯- dissipating when the dart left the confines of the array. A new problem on her mind, she dove into her study once more, squinting through the fading light.
¡°Are we going back soon?¡± Sarah asked for the third time, meticulously untangling her robe from a bramble that had caught her. As the light faded, it was getting harder and harder for her to follow the path Mitchell was setting. ¡°Not without my class.¡± Mitchell answered easily, as he had twice before. He waited patiently for her to untangle herself, then continued leading the way deeper into the forest. With the shadows growing longer and the sounds of creatures loud in her ears, Sarah was jumping at the slightest rustle. She followed closely. ¡°Did you even bring a torch?¡± Mitchell¡¯s step hitched. ¡°I¡­ may have thought it wouldn¡¯t take this long.¡± ¡°When you said that this direction felt good?¡± She teased. ¡°Honestly, Sarah? I was just going to walk through the woods until the animals got me or I got a class. Either way, burden removed.¡± Sarah resisted the urge to whack him with her staff in frustration. She thought he was doing better, then he went and said something like that. While true, in the most disgusting and inhumane way, it was also wrong. ¡°You¡¯d just leave Miri behind because you feel bad about yourself? You honestly so bad at math that four and a half is less than four?¡± ¡°When the half is only propped up by the four, then yea. It¡¯s less. Or, mathematically, if we each contribute one person to the group, and I contribute half of a person, that makes our average drop lower. Now we all provide, what, like four-fifths of a person?¡±Mitchell pushed under a branch and stopped so quickly, Sarah stumbled in an attempt to not run into him and ended up on the forest floor. Grumbling and casting, the dirt once again fell from her body in a wave as she stood. ¡°What gives, jerk?¡± Sarah knew, in the back of her mind, that the whole purpose of this was to help him, but couldn¡¯t help herself. His attitude was grating on her. Mitchell took one more step forward and promptly vanished into thin air. She took a step to follow, only to flinch when a bright blue screen popped up in front of her face. You have discovered the Burning Building Cave System (Dungeon Level 10) Warning! Advancing in this location will place you in the dungeon. Dungeons may not be escaped until they are completed. Completing a dungeon grants substantial rewards, and can even affect class evolution or acquisition. ¡°Oh balls.¡± Sarah swore as she dashed after him without a second thought, her perception of the forest swirling into shadows and darkness until she stumbled, hitting her knee against rough stone in the confines of a cave. The cave was rough, clearly not manmade, though it seemed there was some sort of lichen in sporadic patches on the wall that glowed with a faint amber light. Without that, she¡¯d have been blind. The sound of screeching metal interrupted her observation, and turned her head up to the source. Before her, Mitchell held his shield steady against a pair thrashing mandibles each the size of a machete. Her face paled as a second creature skittered over the first, ignoring Mitchell and scuttling straight for her. With her knee already dropped, she kicked out her leg and pushed herself to the side in almost a daze. Later, she would tell everyone it was like instinctively dodging a bus you saw out of your peripheral, but in the moment she just acted. Rolling to her feet, she shot the end of her staff out to Mitchell, dumping him with an Adrenal Response spell. The spell itself wasn¡¯t too hard, just a quick breath and a flick of the wrist and the golden orb sped off to phase into Mitchell¡¯s back. That was all she had time for before her own staff was the only thing keeping the snapping jaws of the ant - that did appear to be what it was, though it was still hard to tell in the dim light - away from her face. Unbidden, a scream rose from her throat as she felt the wood in her staff begin to creak and groan, and the mental image of the mandibles locking around her skull and squeezing panicked her even further. Her legs kicked out and scrambled against the smooth, tough chitin of the insect, and for each leg she pushed away, there were two more landing to hold the creature steady. Her arms strength started fading, being driven to its limits by the jerking and thrashing, and just as the tip of one of the mandibles scratched her cheek, the pressure released. Sarah didn¡¯t look at the cause. Sarah scrambled back until her back hit something hard and held out the staff at arms length, brandishing it like a pistol. That was too tiring, so she propped the back end against the wall and held the blunt point outwards, eyes wide and breath coming in ragged gasps. It was then that she saw him. Mitchell, the same look on his face as when they were walking through the forest, was manhan- er, anthandling the thing. A quick glance saw the other carcass stuffed up into the hole they¡¯d come through, and as she watched, he kicked the live ones leg from underneath it and slammed his shield downwards with the one arm he could use. Connecting right where the legs met the body, there was a wet crunch and the leg fell to the floor. Mitchell didn¡¯t react to the success. Coldly, almost methodically, he moved around the ant and removed its legs, making her flinch with each crunch. By the second leg, the ant had clearly gone from attacking to trying to flee. By the fourth, it had curled in on itself, and Mitchell had to pry the legs out to get at them. When he finally removed the last, the ant shuddered in on itself and went still. Silence reigned over the small cavern, broken only by the dripping of ichor from the shield and the duo''s ragged breathing. Mitchell broke it first. ¡°So¡­¡± Sarah, as if responding to the confirmation of safety, threw up. Mitchell sighed. ¡°Yea, pretty gross.¡± He idly kicked the legless corpse, which slammed into the wall. ¡°But really, they¡¯re light as a feather. How did that one manage to keep you down?¡± She continued retching against the wall. ¡°Right, well, I¡¯d be pretty terrified of the bites too, but these are carpenter ants. No venom strong enough to get us, in fact if we could dilute it down we¡¯d make vinegar. The bite is literally the only thing to worry about, and if you¡¯d kicked it, it would¡¯ve hit the roof. Even with your Strength.¡± Sarah spat repeatedly, trying to get the taste of half-digested rabbit out of her mouth. ¡°Well, I might as well try and get those glands then. You wouldn¡¯t happen to know how to process an ant carcass would you? No, I suppose you wouldn¡¯t. Shame it wasn¡¯t George that followed me. Speaking of, did he get a forced study session too?¡± Sarah wiped her mouth with the back of her robes sleeve, stood to her full height, and glared at Mitchell. To her credit, he appeared to flinch. ¡°You irresponsible, smooth-brained boor. You byproduct of a monkey with a brain and a dead stump. You-¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t have to-¡± ¡°I am not finished.¡± She dared. Mitchel shut his mouth. ¡°You are somehow the stupidest person I have ever met, and I am going to marry John. You will not explain yourself, because I do not want any excuses! You will say ¡® I am so sorry, Sarah, this is all my fault.¡¯ and only then will I consider forgiving you.¡± ¡°For what?¡± He asked incredulously. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to come with me!¡± ¡°No, you just dragged me an hour away from camp and vanished into the woods, and when I tell John about that, he¡¯ll kick your ass himself. If I don¡¯t just let you get eaten by ants!¡± Spitefully, she knocked her staff against his shoulder a bit harder than necessary. A mandible had gotten around the shield, and a cut was oozing blood. Yelping in pain, he stumbled back from her, his anger fading quickly as the magic soothed the pain. Thinking for a moment, he sighed and nodded. ¡°I am so sorry, Sarah. This is all my fault.¡± He muttered something to himself afterwards and kicked one of the severed legs of the ant, which went crashing into the carcass that still plugged the tunnel. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Good.¡± Sarah rubbed her forehead to push off the incoming headache. ¡°Now, I¡¯m not certain if you noticed, but we¡¯re stuck down here and neither of us has a weapon.¡± Mitchell looked around for a moment, before he moved over to the legless carcass and gave a kick, then swore. After another kick, he bent low and picked something up. ¡°Well I can solve that problem, for one of us at least. Ants fight ants. Ants have mandibles. Therefore mandibles go through ants.¡± ¡°Not going to grab the venom?¡± Mitchell winced. ¡°I¡­ well thinking about it, I don¡¯t want to end up with a secondary class of Antkeeper or something.¡± Sarah hit him with her staff again, this time just for fun. It helped soothe her frayed nerves.
When the sun truly set and Miriam could study no longer, she looked for Mitchell and became worried when he was nowhere close by. She could see all of the clearing from the door to the ruin, and it was empty, save for the firepit where George cooked something on sticks over the fire while John watched. No Sarah, no Mitch. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, Miriam''s heart began to race with worry. The absence of Sarah and Mitchell was like a gaping hole in the fabric of their small community. She had tried to keep her fears at bay, focusing on the arcane symbols and complex equations of her tome, but as the light faded, so did her resolve. She approached the firepit where George and John were gathered, the orange glow of the flames flickering across their faces. "We need to talk," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the quiet of the encroaching night like a knife. John looked up, his brow furrowed with concern. "What''s wrong, Miri?" "It''s Sarah and Mitchell," she replied."They''ve been gone too long. We need to decide what to do." The three of them sat around the fire, the crackling of the wood the only sound in the otherwise silent forest. They each knew the dangers that lurked beyond the wall they had built, the unknown threats that had already claimed the lives of so many. George, ever the pragmatist, was the first to speak. "We should send out a search party. We can''t just leave them out there. Mitch doesn¡¯t have a chance." John nodded in agreement, but his eyes were filled with hesitation. "We need to be smart about this. We can''t risk more lives. Maybe we should wait until morning, see if they come back on their own." She could tell the suggestion pained him. Miriam shook her head, her black waves catching the light of the fire. "We can''t wait. Every minute could mean the difference between life and death. I say we go now, but we go carefully. We stick together and we don''t take any unnecessary risks." The debate raged on as the night grew darker and the stars began to peek through the canopy of leaves above. Each suggestion was weighed and considered, from using homemade animal repellant to ward off creatures to using Miriam''s newly acquired knowledge of mind magic to dig through their memories and see if either had said when they would return. She suggested it, and was secretly glad when they seemed uncomfortable with the idea. Miriam wasn¡¯t sure she could pull it off without irreparable damage, as she¡¯d need to develop the spell here and now. As they finally reached a consensus to form a search party, a voice called out from beyond the wall, halting them in their tracks. "Hello? Is anyone there?" The three of them exchanged glances, the tension palpable in the air. Who could it be? Friend or foe? The voice sounded human, but in this strange and deadly world, nothing could be taken at face value. By unspoken agreement, they stayed silent. ¡°L-Listen, if there¡¯s someone there, I¡¯m in a lot of trouble. My wife is dead, my sons are dead, and I haven¡¯t slept in two days. Please, if you have any humanity left after all this, please just let me come sleep in safety.¡± An old, haggard voice shouted over the small barrier, and to the east George could see a small stick with a scrap of white fabric attached to the top waving back and forth. ¡°Search after rescue.¡± John stated immediately, getting up to go check the wall.
¡°That¡¯s gross.¡± Mitchell shrugged, absolutely covered in the inner parts of ants, dropping the leg he had ripped off of the last living ant. ¡°It¡¯s working.¡± Sarah rolled her eyes and hit him with the regeneration and cleaning spell, which she was still trying to name in her head. The brutish man had taken to stomping the ants and ripping off legs until they died, as they had quickly learned the mandible lacked the weight and reach to be any help as a weapon against these creatures. Given they¡¯d come across at least 10 of the ants, she was at least happy he had some way to deal with them. She did not relish the thought of holding off 10 giant ants with just her staff. ¡°Yea, it¡¯s working. You all good?¡± Mitchell stretched, rolling his shoulders and bouncing up and down with a wince. ¡°Knee. Must have impacted it with that jump.¡± She whacked him with the staff again, dropping a trio of spells that should fix the problem. She was getting more used to her spells, finding it almost trivial at this point to weave the casting together so she could complete them all simultaneously. It was a bigger drain on MP and needed more concentration, but all of her spells cost miniscule amounts and she''d yet to go below half of her total. The spells, in this case, were Skeletal Mending to heal any hairline fractures, Flush Toxins to help with swelling and bruising, and Align Humours, because she still had no idea what that actually did and was adding it to most of her ''spell-suites'' as she liked to refer to them as. Mitchell stretched out his leg. ¡°There''s that itchy feeling again.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Between removing radiation and accelerating natural processes, I think I''m happy with the spells I''ve got.¡± ¡°Fair.¡± He replied. ¡°Shall we?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You want to keep going? First chamber had 2, the last one had 4, and this one had 8. You don''t need intelligence to see where this is going.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°The only way out is through.¡± Sarah understood, even if she didn¡¯t like it. Not the ants, because she could see that Mitchell was having no problem with them. Even surrounded, he¡¯d found it easy to hold the creatures at bay. It didn¡¯t hurt that a shield bash could push them back with ease, and that once an ant lost a leg it would be hesitant to continue fighting. ¡°We could wait for the rest of the group.¡± Sarah suggested hopefully, but she expected him to refuse and he did. ¡°No, we can¡¯t. We have no idea if or when they¡¯d come, and we don¡¯t have any supplies. I don¡¯t know about you but I¡¯m starting to get thirsty.¡± Sarah sighed. ¡°Just need to find a source of water, I¡¯ve got my straw.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s something.¡± Mitchell answered, flexing his leg and nodding. ¡°I¡¯m ready to keep going, are you?¡± ¡°No. No, I¡¯d likely have stayed in the first chamber.¡± Sarah answered honestly. ¡°You seem like you¡¯re enjoying yourself. You do know we could die down here, right?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mitchell answered easily. ¡°Yes I do, and I¡¯m going to do it anyways. That seems to be the new way of things.¡± ¡°Are you not scared of dying?¡± She asked incredulously. ¡°How does the thought of leaving Miriam behind sit with you at all?¡± Mitchell sighed and plopped down onto the carcass of an ant. ¡°You gotta understand Sarah: I¡¯m the one being left behind. We had to fight for our lives just to get to the mill, but as soon as George got his class, it went from a struggle to enjoyable. Don¡¯t you notice how much happier he¡¯s been since we got here?¡± Sarah hummed in agreement. She wasn¡¯t the closest with him, but the man had been downright chipper ever since he got his class. ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I left camp. George found his class in a fight, Miriam found her class in a fight, you found your class across multiple fights. If I just stayed close to camp and let everyone else do anything dangerous, I¡¯d not get a class any time soon, which would mean I need even more protection while you all are out gaining levels and slipping further and further away. It¡¯s a slippery slope and I¡¯m still at the top, with a chance to not fall down. Of course I¡¯m going to take it. Of course I don¡¯t want to be a burden.¡± Sarah nodded. He had a point, even if she didn¡¯t like it. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get you up to speed then.¡± He dared look at her hopefully. ¡°Really?¡± Sarah shrugged, a mischievous smile on her face. ¡°Sure. It¡¯s just some ants.¡± True to her prediction, the next chamber had 16 ants, though there were a few differences. One of the ants stood much taller than the others - the size of a cow, not a dog - and its mandibles were serrated and sharp. Beyond that, rather than a dark cave lit by lichen, this room had multiple recesses in the walls filled with some sort of thick luminous liquid that was being fed on by the ants. This distraction let the pair stealthily creep into the room to a rocky outcrop and observe their quarry. Giant Carpenter Ant Worker (Minor) Level 3 Giant Carpenter Ant Worker (Major) Level 5 ¡°A level 5¡­¡± Mitchell muttered lowly. ¡°What was the bear again?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone scanned it.¡± Sarah answered. She¡¯d wondered that too, almost right after the fight, but George¡¯s attempt to identify the body didn¡¯t grant anything about living level. ¡°Well, it¡¯s only two extra levels. Still, this may get messy. You might want to hide somewhere until I can thin them out.¡± She looked at him. Despite the lack of weapon, despite the lack of class, despite his clothes being torn and tattered, he looked calm and confident. ¡°Each one that¡¯s coming for me isn¡¯t coming for you, right? Go get the big guy, but please be quick.¡± Jabbing her staff into his chest, she pushed him over, the crouch he was in not enough balance to resist. At the same time, she channeled a Adrenal Response spell, one of her more expensive casts, and then she stood. ¡°Hey ants! Come and get me!¡± The response was more due to the sound then the actual words, but she succeeded in grabbing their attention, and she started running. The chamber was larger than the last, so she could make a lap every 30 seconds or so, but avoiding over a dozen dog-sized ants during that time made it a bit tougher. For his part, Mitchell didn¡¯t waste much time lamenting her plan, because it actually did make his life much easier. He rolled with his fall to his feet and took off running out the other side of the outcropping. The liquid fire of adrenaline poured through his veins, and he put on a burst of speed. The sooner he killed the Major, the sooner he could go bail Sarah out. With a wordless shout, he channeled all his momentum and strength into an edge blow aimed right for the base of the head, hoping with the extra strength he¡¯d be able to finish it in one hit. He was wrong. The metal disc violently reverberated on his arm, and he even saw the slightest deforming of the edge where it impacted. The Major turned, it mandibles clicking open and shut menacingly, and lunged. The creature moved faster than its brothers, Mitchell noted as the mandibles clanged against the shield. Stronger, too. His weight low and arm aching, he began to circle the ant, who seemed content to guard its food while observing him in turn. ¡°You know, mister ant, this isn¡¯t personal. I just need a class, and the system is making me kill things for it. You just happened to be here.¡± The ant skittered to the side, then back to its spot. Mitchell frowned and lifted himself halfway out of his stance, muscles trembling from the adrenaline. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t speak ant, but if you can understand me: Get your workers, get your food, and leave. Else, die.¡± The ant screeched, a grating, scraping noise that resonated in Mitchells skull, and over that sound, he heard Sarah¡¯s muttered curses and exclamations be replaced with a ¡°What in the¡­¡± The Major stood before Mitchell as if guarding against him while the Minor workers scurried over and plunged their heads into the orbs of liquid in the wall recesses. One by one, each of the Minors took a small globule of the liquid and left down the next hallway until only the major was left, still staring Mitchell down even as Sarah came over, limping lightly. ¡°What¡¯d you do?¡± Mitchell himself was not daring to stop making eye contact with the Major, as it had done the same, but not a couple of seconds he had realized that ants lacked eyelids, and he felt an acute itch in his eye. ¡°I don¡¯t know? It looked like it could hear me when I was trying to psych myself up, so I offered to let it surrender and it just¡­ did.¡± Sarah scratched her head. ¡°You can do that?¡± Mitchell gave an exasperated sigh even as fatigue fell over him. ¡°Apparently.¡± The Major moved slowly, but it bowed its head to the side, breaking the eye contact but waiting for something. Mitchell, running off of some instinct he didn¡¯t understand, did the same, though he could still see the creature in his peripheral vision. Being larger than he was, it was hard to miss when it too grabbed its own globule of food and made for the exit, leaving the pair in a silent room with orbs of thick liquid nestled in the walls. ¡°Gross.¡± ¡°Yep.¡±
In the darkness of a night untouched by light pollution, three figures stood, barely illuminated by the flickering light of a torch. A man, dirt-smudged yet with eyes that gleamed with alertness, broke the silence. ¡°I think we¡¯re being foolish. Why not simply request to join them?¡± The woman, shorter in stature and armed with a spear that spoke of elegance despite her disheveled appearance, replied with a scoff. ¡°Singh is handling that as we speak.¡± A third figure lingered in silence, his features obscured by a hood, an unstrung bow resting against his back. His stance suggested a readiness to follow the group¡¯s lead. The first man muttered in agreement, though with evident reservation. ¡°Yet, I¡¯m not convinced Singh¡¯s approach is the right one.¡± The woman¡¯s voice carried a sharp edge as she recounted their grim history. ¡°Every encounter has ended in bloodshed. Three strangers crossed our path, and each time, violence ensued. Can we truly afford to debate morals?¡± Her challenge was met with a reluctant nod from the man, whose hands were clean but whose mind was haunted by the ghosts of those they had encountered. Meanwhile, the hooded figure slipped away, blending into the forest¡¯s embrace. The act of taking lives seemed to weigh less on him, a fact mirrored by his growing prowess. 9. Reckless II ¡°Hold there!¡± John called out over the wall, turning back to the other two. Blinking, he realised George had vanished. ¡°Uh.. okay, Miri could you grab a couple sticks out of the fire? Something torch-like.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± She answered easily, walking to the fire with no rush in her step. John envied her calm, for he himself was growing more anxious by the second. Of course there were more people, he had known that as soon as the dialogue of survivors had opened when they had first arrived here. Stupidly, he realised he had never expected to come across any. He berated himself: Of course they would, it was only a matter of time. Humans were curious, social creatures. Miriam returned, cradling the makeshift torches, while John scrambled up a branch to peer over the thick trunk. He brandished his torch, thrusting it into the light-starved night. The figure beyond the wall remained elusive, hooded and just beyond the torch¡¯s reach. The stick with the white fabric had vanished. ¡°Who are you, and what do you want?¡± John demanded. ¡°My name is Singh,¡± the voice replied, tinged with an accent that betrayed English as a second language. ¡°I seek shelter. Please, kind sir, allow me passage.¡± John hesitated, firing off more questions. ¡°Alone, or do you have companions?¡± ¡°Only me. My family¡ªthey were lost the day before.¡± Singh¡¯s words came in a rush, his form shifting but refusing to step into the light. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give for a flashlight¡­ Listen buddy, you mind moving forward a bit? I can¡¯t see you barely at all.¡± Singh shuffled back and forth on his feet again. ¡°Ah¡­ but no, I cannot. Apologies, good sir, but I¡¯m not sure of your intentions.¡± John frowned, peering into the darkness around the stranger. ¡°Yea, well, same buddy. Let me talk with our guards for a second.¡± ¡°I shall wait as long as I must.¡± The well-spoken man settled and stopped shifting, and John turned back to Miriam. ¡°Thoughts?¡± ¡°He¡¯s full of shit.¡± Miriam said with confidence. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Listen, the man lost his,¡± Miriam mimed air quotes, ¡°¡®family¡¯ just yesterday. Now he¡¯s using their memory as a guilt-trip to breach our defences. Ask to see his wedding ring. Either he¡¯s a grieving psychopath or a perpetual liar, but either way, don¡¯t let him in.¡± ¡°He¡¯s clearly suffering.¡± John retorted. ¡°Is it clear? Huh. I thought it was dark as shit and we couldn¡¯t see anything.¡± She scoffed. ¡°John, you can¡¯t have a bleeding heart for people. Not a day ago we were almost killed by wolves. My fiancee is missing. Our healer is missing. Our wall isn¡¯t done. The-¡± Their exchange was cut short by the dull thud of an object striking the earth beyond the wall. John clambered atop the barrier to investigate. Singh regarded the bloodied pelt at his feet with bewilderment. ¡°Take it and go.¡± A voice called harshly from the treetops. Startled, Singh recoiled as his hood fell away, revealing a visage marked by alarm. ¡°You move with the silence of the grave! May I¡ª¡± A soft twang resonated, and an arrow embedded itself ominously close to Singh''s feet. ¡°Take it if you want. Food. Water. A cloth to use as a blanket. One more step closer though, and the next one finds your favourite limb.¡± Singh grabbed the bundle and scampered into the forest. Minutes later, George descended from the canopy, his expression grim. John rounded on him, noting absently that Miriam didn¡¯t appear to be backing him up. ¡°What the hell, man? You could have shot that guy.¡± George scoffed, catching Nimbus in his arms as the cat jumped up. ¡°Probably should have. Prick.¡± John¡¯s disbelief grew, but Miriam¡¯s question cut through. ¡°What did you find?¡± George looked pleased with himself, and he could almost imagine Nimbus putting on smug airs as well. ¡°A few trees back, Singh left his sword hanging. Too alert for someone on a two-day journey with no sleep. Cloak, boots, vambraces, sword¡ªthe man had four possessions.¡± ¡°Meaning he had four items, not three. I wonder which he took?¡± Miriam pondered, and John couldn¡¯t believe her either. ¡°Where¡¯s your humanity? Trauma does weird things and so does shock, he could very well be about to collapse but look wide awake. He left his sword behind, which should be a sign of wanting to be diplomatic, and he could¡¯ve gotten the extra item from his dead famil-¡± ¡°His class was Con Artist.¡± George provided, his smugness rising to a crescendo. John stopped, worked his jaw, and eventually set it with a frown. ¡°You could¡¯ve led with that. Either way, I say we spend the night building the wall higher. I thought it was good, but actually having someone on the other side and imagining the wall being our defences, I was disappointed.¡± A few minutes of lamenting and argument ensued, and soon the three got to sharpening branches, making fires, and digging trenches.
¡°Asshole tried to shoot me!¡± Singh exclaimed, accent gone and English fluent. The Swashbuckler/Con Artist was particularly grumpy. His class features hadn¡¯t failed him yet, so this was a major annoyance. ¡°Rich of you to call someone else an asshole.¡± The dirty man said darkly. Singh scoffed. ¡°Okay Jacob, whatever helps you sleep at night. Oh wait. That¡¯s me. I help you sleep by doing all the dirty work.¡± Jacob rolled his eyes in the darkness. ¡°Whatever. What¡¯s the situation?¡± Singh fell out of the banter and gave a proper report.¡°They¡¯re missing their healer and some dude named Mitchell, but I couldn¡¯t get any class info out of the guy I was talking to. Either he¡¯s high level, or has some ability to hide his details. They have some sort of archer that was hiding in the trees like Zeke does, and there was another person behind the wall but I didn¡¯t get a look at them. They tried to lie and say they had guards, but my Instinct triggered on that so I bet it¡¯s just the three of them.¡± The woman with the spear groaned as she got to her feet. ¡°5 against 3 seems like our win-¡± ¡°Four.¡± Singh interrupted darkly. ¡°Four against Three.¡± Jacob felt the tension in the air thicken. Singh¡¯s late wife had been with them when they entered the Tutorial, and had gotten some sort of Priest class that had allowed her to heal their wounds. She¡¯d been killed by a trap laid out by another group and they had been forced to leave her body behind to evade the ambush. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. I¡¯m sure Kyla didn¡¯t do it on purpose.¡± Singh rubbed his cloak between his fingers. In the darkness, it was very hard to see that it was spattered with blood. ¡°Alright. An hour to let them fall back into security and then we go. Where¡¯s Zeke?¡± ¡°Where do you think?¡± Kyla muttered. ¡°Hunting.¡±
¡°One ant, two ant, red ant, blue ant!¡± Mitchell grunted rhythmically as he faced off against another pair of majors, smashing mandibles aside with his shield and doing his best to not be bowled over by their charges. For her part, Sarah was hitting him consistently with cleaning and adrenaline spells, targeting actual wounds as they appeared. ¡°You best hope you didn¡¯t just summon red and blue ants!¡± ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna be no summoner!¡± Mitchell called out, finally getting one ant in between him and the other. In the seconds of having only one opponent, he dashed forwards, swaying aside from the mandibles and hammering away at the front leg with the edge of his shield. The dent in the shield grew, to Mitchells growing dismay, but the attack tore the leg free from its socket. He pushed back before the two reset their formation, and the dance began again, sans one leg. ¡°You ain¡¯t nothing yet!¡± Sarah called back, her nerves slightly settled. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was the constant forward motion, the steadily growing difficulty of the ants, or the fact that she hadn¡¯t once seen Mitchell doubting his course. Whatever the cause, she was steady, and was almost starting to find it fun. She was there to look for problems, and when problems came up, she solved them using a combination of her spells. It was like getting hit with a puzzle every 30 seconds or so, and she was getting much better at solving them. ¡°Well that¡¯s just rude- owowOW!¡± Mitchell started screaming as his caught leg was slowly crushed by the mandibles. For the second time, Sarah ran forwards and whacked the ant across the antennae with her staff, fracturing one and causing the ant to rear back with a squeal of pain. She ran back before the second ant could avenge its disoriented brother. ¡°Do that thing again!¡± Sarah called out as the second ant ignored Mitchell and followed her. ¡°I don¡¯t know how!¡± He called back, limping his way through the fight. A minute of running in circles - ants couldn¡¯t turn well at high speeds - and another minute of healing and cleaning Mitchell later, and two more carcasses decorated the ground of this odd, arbitrary cave system. The pair sat atop the relatively intact one for a brief moment of silence to catch their breath, and Mitchell coughed drily as Sarah started to work on his leg wound. The itching feeling of muscle reknitting was incredibly uncomfortable, so he sought distraction through conversation. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna make sure to carry water from now on.¡± Sarah looked over at him incredulously. ¡°That¡¯s your take on this?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Yea, I guess? I mean, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll come across a cave full of ants again, but another dungeon isn¡¯t impossible.¡± He let out a hiss as the surface of the wound closed up. ¡°Ugh that feels so weird.¡± With a final cleaning spell, Sarah let out a breath. ¡°I feel that. Mana doesn¡¯t make any sense. I feel¡­ well, beat down, like I just spent a long day at a crappy job.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Wanna take a quick break to recharge?¡± Mitchell offered. She slumped in relief. ¡°Oh thank goodness. You had me thinking you were just going to keep going and going and going.¡± He shrugged again in response. ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong, but that doesn¡¯t mean I need to be stupid about pushing myself. If it were just me, I¡¯d likely have fallen long before now, so I recognize that we need to keep at our best.¡± He pulled at the tattered fabric of his cloak. ¡°I could give my gear a bit of time, too.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Mitchell unstrapped his shield and held it out so she could see. ¡°You see that dent in the front edge there?¡± She had to really look, but she eventually saw where the rolled steel had bent inwards. ¡°Sure..?¡± ¡°It was bigger in the last chamber. My systemized gear is fixing itself. A couple tears in my cloak have mended, too.¡± With excitement, Sarah checked on her First Aid kit that she barely had to use anymore, but it hadn¡¯t replenished anything. ¡°Not mine.¡± Mitchell hummed. ¡°It might just be armour, which would kind of make sense from a game design standpoint¡­¡± They fell into a silence for a moment before they urged their tired bodies to the next chamber. Quickly, they dashed into the chamber and took cover behind a rock outcropping. A new sight awaited them. This chamber was much bigger, and much more full than the others. Across the left wall, a deep pit stretched down into the darkness, an incredibly steep ramp switching back and forth across the grade. In a procession moving up the ramp, worker ants travelled with small globules of what Mitchell knew as food, with a warrior positioned every so often as if to guard the procession. Against the right wall was a series of small recesses that appeared like the ones they had seen previously filled with the liquid food, but they were instead stuffed with the corpses of dead worker ants, with a few majors. Taking up the entirety of the far wall was a massive archway carved with some sort of relief that was impossible to make out from the distance, but standing before the archway were a trio of smaller red ants that guarded their own procession of smaller workers. Giant Fire Ant Worker (Minor) Level 5 Giant Fire Ant Worker (Major) Level 7 The black ants approached the archway and presented the food to the trio of red ants, who would then transfer it over to one of their own fire ants. A particularly small ant approached with a small globule of food. It dropped the food before the red ants and almost appeared to shake, then violence erupted. The trio of ants darted forwards, mandibles clacking furiously, and two of the ants held the large black worker still as the third moved forwards and clamped its mandibles on the workers front leg, shearing it off with a spurt of the insectile blood the pair had grown intimately familiar with. Not a second later, the leg was discarded and the red ant reared back and with a slam onto the ground, a gout of fire erupted from between its mandible. A hideous screeching sound erupted from the injured ant as its wound was cauterised and the surrounding chitin burnt. Almost disdainfully, the two that were holding it still lifted it up, and cast its still twitching body down into the pit. Searching, they could see many of the carpenter workers were injured - a missing leg here, a half-antenna there, a burst eye bringing up the rear. Sarah held back revulsion. Mitchell held back unbounded curiosity that was only exacerbated when one of the fire ant workers picked up the leg and shoved it into the nearest alcove with space. See, he¡¯d recently done some research on carpenter ants, which was how he knew about the acid spit. Their house had an infestation, in the pre-System time, and no matter what they had done, it had been impossible for them to locate or destroy the colony. Until they used the delayed action poison. The ants would bring back the food the trio had laid out, and gradually share it with the hive. Rich in all the things ants like, they would send more workers to collect more food and bring it back, but then about a month later the ants would start getting sick. The queen would become infertile, and the colony would die out slowly and terribly. What a carpenter ant would never do, under any circumstance, is give away collected food. Nevermind that, but give away collected food to another hive of a different species that looked like they were performing a combined eugenics-farming program on the hive. The two tucked back behind the rock outcropping. ¡°Too many.¡± Mitchell agreed with her before she had even spoke. She¡¯d seen about 15 carpenters on top of the three fire ants, so she agreed. ¡°Yea¡­¡± She let out as her brain tried to solve this puzzle. She could try to heal the ants, but they appeared largely healed, save for the one she¡¯d seen cast into the pit. Even then, would they help her get through the arch, or just run away? ¡°Well, hold on. For once, we have a situation we can exploit.¡± She sighed. ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to realise I didn¡¯t really know you that well?¡± ¡°You¡¯re just realising that now?¡± Mitchell snarked, but in a tone that she knew he was joking. ¡°Be a little serious, please.¡± She retorted, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that I know what John would do here. I can guess about George, and to a degree Miriam as well. John would want to save the carpenter ants from whatever is going on here, so he¡¯d probably go fight the fire ants.¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°We¡¯d be screwed if any minors joined in on that fight. Three versus one is already difficult without them being two more levels up and able to spit fire.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Sarah admitted. ¡°George, at least with his new class, would find somewhere they can¡¯t reach him and shoot arrows until everything here was dead. Then he¡¯d stay for a bit to find out which tasted best.¡± ¡°Fair, but we don¡¯t have any ranged options. I bet it''s the fire-ants. They look spicy.¡± Sarah bit back a giggle. ¡°Miriam would want to set up some elaborate ambush, possibly collapsing part of the cave or forcing the workers down so we could slip by.¡± Mitchell raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wow. Wait until you hear my plan: It¡¯ll blow your mind.¡± Five minutes later, they started. The crippled warrior agreed with the thoughts that Sarah had shared, because all of them had been ideas he¡¯d had as well while he watched the maiming of the carpenter ant. However, he was here to exploit, not solve, and so saving the ants didn¡¯t occur to him. Helping them revolt, on the other hand, was a bit more possible. With that in mind, Mitchell dashed into the chamber, Sarah hot on his heels and already weaving the starts of several spells. They were quickly spotted by the ants, and rather than the usual response, the fire ants let out a screech and skittered forward, while the carpenter ants scattered down into the pit. The lead fire ant reared back and briefly, the image of his own flailing, burning body flickered across Mitchell¡¯s imagination, but he pushed through. That would only happen if he failed and there was no time to think about failure when it was the moment for action. Sarah couldn¡¯t help him. She dashed past the burgeoning battle, spinning out of the way of a flicking leg. The fire ant crept closer, then with a squeal it was yanked scrambling back. ¡°Go, go go! I can¡¯t keep this up for-!¡± Mitchell roared in pain, shaking out his smouldering pant leg. Sarah managed to slip an Adrenal Rush and Calm Mind on him, only realising a beat later that those spells might conflict, but then she was past the skirmish and dashing for the food alcove. Mitchell frantically patted out his pant leg, absently taking a step back out of the range of the mandibles of the next attacker only to have it keep charging and slam its head into his chest in an impact that drained the breath from his lungs. With a panicked step he retreated back, trying to suck in a breath, but then the panic left his mind and he dropped his foot an inch short of the pit''s edge. With fire running through his veins, his roar of pain morphed into one of anger and he pushed forwards, keeping an ant between him and whichever of them was readying their fire. Sarah didn¡¯t see how her Calm Mind spell had saved Mitchell from a terrible fall, as she was grabbing bits and pieces of ant and throwing them into the pit. After she had emptied the first alcove, some sort of signal passed between the remaining fire ants and they turned away from Mitchell as one. Taking the opportunity, he grabbed one lagging leg and dragged the ant back, spinning and throwing it into the pit. It screeched on the way down, then a thump signalled its landing and the screeching got more and more frantic until suddenly, it cut off. Sarah was too busy dodging at this point to notice. She scrambled back and away from a set of swinging legs, shoved her staff in between her and a set of scissoring mandibles, and then fell over in a panic when she saw one of the ants rear up and prepare to fire. ¡°Up, up, up!¡± Mitchell shouted at her, coming in at speed and bodily slamming against the one that had prepared to cook her alive. The force of his impact slammed both him and the creature into the wall. The ant didn¡¯t let up, tilting its head down to where Mitchell pressed its thorax against the stone and unleashing a gout of fire. Lifting his shield to block the brunt of it, Mitchell still let out another shout as his cloak caught aflame. She heard a sizzling sound that made her sick to her stomach, and would have traded every spell in her arsenal for a Stop That Poor Man Burning spell in an instant. The fire sputtered out, a few stray sparks floating from the ants mouth, and Sarah waited for it to fall and eat Mitchells body. The ant fell, and Mitchell collapsed to a knee, panting and sobbing in rasping agony. His shield glowed cherry red, and he held his handless arm away from his body to keep the hot metal away from himself, the sizzling of his arm gradually fading. A black mandible clattered to the ground from his hand, followed soon after by a spray of blood from the ants thorax. Sarah couldn¡¯t spare the time to help him, for her own enemy had pressed its assault. She was smart and managed to slip around it when it tried to roast her, and the fire splashed ineffectually against the cave wall. She swung her staff with all her might at the thing''s face, and her staff bonked off with an almost comical sound. Her heart dropped at the result and she almost dropped with it. This was it. She¡¯d been stupid to follow Mitchell on his suicide mission and now she¡¯d end up - what, burnt to death? Chopped up into bits to be eaten later? Her mind flashed to John, his easy grin and strong body a solace in her growing panic. She breathed a quick, hitched breath of realisation, and hit the ant with the staff again, remembering what she and Miriam had been working on. ¡°Inverting an effect isn¡¯t as easy as it might seem.¡± Miri had explained, even as her eyes flicked across the book¡¯s words - symbols? Sarah couldn¡¯t read the tome, no matter how she tried, so it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°WIth something like a levitation spell, it¡¯s not as simple as countering it with a downwards force. The levitation spell has multiple components that all come together to create a cohesive effect. It would take me 13 differing arrays to cast that spell - and don¡¯t even get me started on how often that number comes up - yet a force mage could cast it as one of their most basic abilities. Do you know why?¡± Sarah lay on her back, panting. ¡°No.¡± She spat, her Mana exhausted as low as she could get it without passing out. ¡°Because it accounts for everything! Gravity, wind, air pressure, everything! I could cast it with 12 arrays, and it would gradually accelerate towards that mountain over there, because one of those arrays takes into account the momentum of the spinning planet!¡± She¡¯d said excitedly. ¡°Yet instead of those arrays, I¡¯m starting to understand a force mage would just cast it, like you do with your own spells.¡± ¡°Inverting, though?¡± Sarah knew, at least, that she had to have some sort of offensive ability. If she were caught out without her party, even by a single wolf, she¡¯d be done for. Miriam slapped the book shut. ¡°Sure. We just need to design an inverse array for each aspect of one of your spells, then sequence them in the proper order with the proper conduits. That should leave us with just radii to do by trial and error, but that shouldn¡¯t change the effect too much. Which spell do you want to start with? I think I need to know more before I can finish that regen spell, anyways.¡± Sarah vaguely recalled the ¡®arrays¡¯ that Miriam talked about, but she never saw anything when she cast her spells. Sometimes, if she really focussed, she could see the faintest of a warm glow when she cast, but it was easy to miss. What she could do, which Miriam had claimed as unfair, was feel the various eddies and whirls of the energy within her own body. How it gathered, warm and soothing in her stomach before flowing out her arm along the bones and through the staff. She could feel the way that the magic was shaped, how she drew in the ambient energy and flavoured it to work with her own spells. So she just¡­ did it in reverse. Where before it would swirl counterclockwise in her wrist, now she had it swirl clockwise. Where it would travel through various points in her body that did something to it, she reversed the order. The more the spell progressed, the more wrong it felt, but she held on and continued casting, hoping against hope that it would work. When her staff impacted, the build up of energy spiked into the chitinous form of the ant and she let herself gain a savage grin. I did it, She thought to herself, it worked. That was all she had time for before she staggered, a wave of MP leaving her body. She would later find that her inverted version of Skeletal Mending, called Breaker of Bones by the System, cost many magnitudes more MP than its more benign version. Especially when it was cast at the entire skeletal structure of a giant creature. An ant fell to pieces in front of two prone forms with its own last thoughts being those of confusion and panic. It had always had such a strong exoskeleton. 10. Settled Two hours of hard labour followed before Singh returned, and when he did, it was not with any sort of payment for the charity given. No, he arrived with torch in hand and threats upon his lips. George scoffed to himself, knowing instinctively that full volume would have him revealed before he was ready. From where he perched up in the branches of a tree not 5 metres outside the wall, he had an easy shot at the liar. However, he had allowed John to set the general response for any intrusions during the night, and so he would follow the orders he was given. Stay hidden, but if any of them touch the wall, shoot to kill. George found himself idly reaching up and scratching underneath Nimbus¡¯ chin. He was not as opposed to the thought of killing someone as he thought he would be, nor as much as he thought he should be. An odd sense of detachment had settled over him at the idea, but not nearly enough where he had protested. At the end of the day, he knew what a sufficiently depraved human being could do, and would not subject his friends to even the chance of something terrible. The cat rubbed its cheek against his face and leaped off his shoulder silently, likely off to go find his own perch. That was fine by him. So far, during their hunts Nimbus had been more useful than not, scouting out tracks when he lost the trail, never impeding his shot, and providing a target for when he needed to mutter and piece something out. He trusted his feline companion to do what was best for the hunt. Stifling a yawn, he perked up as Singh¡¯s voice grew frustrated and he threw away all pretence. ¡°Listen to me now, you pile of goat droppings! We do not care if you have 10 guards behind that wall, we¡¯re coming in! Now move aside!¡± ¡°No.¡± John answered, steel in his voice. ¡°You could have waited and returned in the light of day, but you chose to come back tonight after being told what would happen. Not only that, you¡¯re implying you have a party prepared for violence when we have done nothing to you and yours. Begone, and never return.¡± ¡°Come and make me.¡± Singh taunted, throwing his arms wide. George slowly nocked an arrow, his breathing low and steady. ¡°Miriam!¡± John called out, and George cursed, slipping around the tree to another branch on the other side of the trunk. ¡°Light ¡®em up.¡± Singh dove for cover as the esoteric syllables of a cast spell echoed out through the woods, and George noticed as a branch out the corner of his eye shuffled, the leaves moved just barely. Found ya. He was just in time to avoid the effects of Miriam¡¯s first created spell - one she lovingly dubbed Flare Gun. With a screaming whistle, a projectile soared up into the sky, casting a dim white glow around it before it exploded at the height of its arc into a beautiful starburst of light, flickering like it was a firecracker from the Before. Unlike those firecrackers, though, these streamers of light didn¡¯t burn out, but rather hung in the sky, providing an eerie, flickering white glow across the clearing and piercing into the shade of the forest. A stone''s throw back from Singh, George spotted a woman hiding behind a bush, the glint of the light of the blade of her spear the only thing that gave her away. ¡°Should I cast the fire-aspect one next?!¡± Miriam called out with a hint of laughter on her lips. George took a particular bit of pleasure at noting the way that Singh¡¯s jaw seemed to drop as he stared up at the sky, and reminded himself to gift Miriam the prime cut of their next hunt. She¡¯d said she could make light, but this was an absolute wonder of magical development. At least, it was to George. He didn¡¯t use magic, so for all he knew she added two and two together. Either way, the twinkling lights spread across the sky were more than impressive. That pleasure bloomed into full joy as he saw Singh scramble to his feet and go running back into the forest. The woman with the spear reluctantly followed, and George saw branches shake in their trail. At least three, then. He clicked his tongue to inform Nimbus, then leapt his way back inside the wall, tucking the arrow back into his quiver. He could¡¯ve just dropped it, but then he¡¯d have to use his meagre MP to create a new one so he typically just stored them. Miriam and John were back by the fire near the ruined mill, smiles on their faces. The firelight didn¡¯t seem quite as safe with Miriam¡¯s light hanging in the sky, but the warmth was still pleasant. George touched down next to them, taking a small amount of mirth at the way they jumped. He always seemed to be able to sneak up on them, even if he wasn¡¯t trying to. ¡°Do you think he actually has anyone?¡± Miriam asked, ¡°Don¡¯t see why he¡¯d run like that if we were outnumbered.¡± John¡¯s smile turned to a frown. ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t see why he would antagonise us if he didn¡¯t have the advantage, though.¡± Miriam rolled her eyes. ¡°Is it stupidity or malice, is what you¡¯re asking?¡± ¡°Malice.¡± George answered. ¡°I saw a woman back in the tree line, and she was armed. Also had someone moving through the branches with me, though that could¡¯ve been a pet. Minimum 2, more likely 3.¡± John sighed in frustration. ¡°Miriam, can you actually do one of those with a fire-aspect?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Probably, but I¡¯d have to figure it out first. That spell was just the addition of a delayed array to perform the detonation, and some application of the various levitation arrays. Then I just channelled some MP into the¡­¡± she trailed off at seeing the two confused expressions looking at her. ¡°No, I can¡¯t do it with fire right now.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t know that, at least.¡± John supplied, hopeful. ¡°Ideally that¡¯d keep them away for the night, but we still don¡¯t know where Mitchell or Sarah are.¡± George nodded and took off into the night, Nimbus hot on his heels. He had a fellow sneaker to track.
It would have been impossible to find them without Nimbus, but George soon followed the faint sound of raised voices and was able to track them the rest of the way on his own. ¡°Nobody told us there was magic!¡± Kyla all but screamed at Jacob, as if blaming him. ¡°My wife was a Healer.¡± Singh reminded her darkly. ¡°Clearly there was some magic, fool.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see you standing there against some sort of freaking wizard!¡± The woman shot back. Jacob raised his hands to forestall any argument. ¡°Alright guys, I think we need to rethink things at this point. Surely you can¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to what, storm the gates? Did the wall even have gates?¡± Kyla shifted in place. ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell. Singh left early and I had to follow. I wasn¡¯t gonna hangout there.¡± Jacob frowned. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s fair. Singh, did you get any more information?¡± ¡°Other than them having a mage at their beck and call? Nope, I didn¡¯t want to get roasted by fire-rain.¡± He shot back scathingly. The larger man grit his teeth. ¡°So if they¡¯re clearly packing some heat and have defences, why do you want to antagonise them! We could at least wait for Zeke to get back so we have the advantage.¡± Kyla stepped up to him. ¡°You forgot that they have people out too, two of them. We either do three on three now, or four on five later.¡± ¡°Or we could just keep hiking. There has to be something else for us. Hell, why don¡¯t we just go up or downstream and make our own wall?¡± He pleaded, but his suggestions didn¡¯t take root. ¡°Why, so they can pick us off at their leisure? No, we need to settle this soon.¡± Singh declared, and with Kyla¡¯s nod of agreement Jacob was outnumbered. ¡°I found the other two.¡± A voice emerged from the darkness, and George barely stopped himself from startling as a figure emerged from behind the very tree he was hiding in. Shrouded in a dark, hooded cloak and with a bow strung across his back, George pieced together that this was ¡®Zeke¡¯. Settling his rapidly beating heart with a few shallow breaths, he continued eavesdropping. Just in case, though, he started using his upgraded version of Analyze, Identify. Kyla Level 6 Human HP-Medium SP-High MP-Low ¡°You did? How?¡± Ezekiel Level 8 Human HP-Low SP-High MP-Medium ¡°Tracked them.¡± Singh Level 7 Human HP-Medium SP-Medium MP-Medium ¡°So we can go ambush two with four, then go after the guys behind the wall. Jacob, are you going to help this time or are you going to keep dragging us down?¡± Jacob Level 5 Human HP-Very High SP-Medium MP-None A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The large man sighed again. ¡°Fine, Singh. Only if we try to kick them out without killing first, though.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t work. Two are indisposed. Kill the three at the mill, ambush the rest when they come home.¡± Ezekiel said plainly. George, a sinking feeling in his gut, snuck away through the branches as quiet as he could be, unaware of Ezekiel¡¯s eye tracking his movements. Curiously, though, the hooded man didn¡¯t say a word about the intruder to his companions.
George ran the entire way back to their small, walled area, feeling a sense of relaxation as soon as he crossed the wooden barrier. John was tired enough that he didn¡¯t even jump when George melted out of the shadows behind him. ¡°Four total.¡± George reported, ¡°And they found Mitch and Sarah, but aren¡¯t going after them.¡± ¡°As long as they¡¯re safe.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ one of their guys just said they were ¡®indisposed¡¯, whatever that¡¯s supposed to mean. How¡¯s Miriam doing?¡± John grunted. ¡°Apparently she¡¯s too tired to do more than a minute of study at a time. What she¡¯s got is what we¡¯ll be working with.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no ¡®apparently¡¯ about it, I literally get slapped with ADHD when I try to study right now. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to reread a sentence eight times, with focus, only to forget it a few seconds later? I¡¯m not doing it anymore. I can shoot flares and shoot people just fine, I¡¯m not worried about some guy with a sword.¡± John stared at her. ¡°You¡¯re not afraid of the guy with the three foot long knife? That doesn¡¯t concern you?¡± She laughed. ¡°No. We have a wall, and unless he plans to throw his sword at me, I¡¯ll drill him full of darts before he ever gets close. Same for the spear lady.¡± ¡°What about Big Guy and Sneaky McGee?¡± George challenged. ¡°Who¡¯s Sneaky McGee? Is that you?¡± Equal parts pride and revulsion spread through George¡¯s chest. ¡°No, they had another guy, who had a hood and a bow.¡± Miriam''s face fell slightly. ¡°Alright, so an arrow would suck to get shot by, I¡¯ll give you that. What does Big Guy have?¡± ¡°Other than being a head taller than John? I couldn¡¯t tell, but he looked too bulky for just clothes so I suspect armour. His HP was rated as Very High, as well, so I imagine he¡¯s a tank of sorts.¡± The mentioned man nodded. ¡°That checks out. Rogue-type, tank, spear would be their striker, and a Con Artist for support. So¡­ now what? Do we know they plan to attack? Just so we¡¯re all clear, the only thing they¡¯ve actually done is try to get to safety in the middle of the night.¡± John fidgeted under the glares of his companions. They looked between each other, then George asked. ¡°John, when they said they were coming inside regardless of our wishes, did you think they just wanted to get inside? Like, literally?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know that¡¯s not the truth.¡± He protested. ¡°If I had 100 matches and that Singh fellow was freezing to death, I¡¯d throw 99 into the water and use the last one to set his ass on fire. I do not trust him. I therefore do not trust anyone willing to have him ¡®negotiate¡¯ on their behalf.¡± George continued. ¡°Also, their Sneaky Guy was straight talking about ¡®killing the three at the mill¡¯ so the time for words has come and gone.¡± John grumbled. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m going to start reinforcing the wall. Someone keep watch and hopefully we make it to dawn without any more trouble.¡± They did not make it to dawn without any more trouble. An arrow thudding into the log he was hauling sent a surge of adrenaline through John¡¯s tired body, and he quickly let out a shout of alarm, ducking and weaving as he sprinted back to the wall. The whizzing sounds of arrows passed overhead multiple times as he ran with his head ducked down, and he just managed to scramble over the piled wood before George started muttering to himself. He was firing arrow after arrow into the darkness. ¡°Miri, light!¡± Silence met his ears and his heart sank as he glanced over to the mill, seeing the light of a torch within and shadows being cast out the open door. ¡°George, they got through!¡± The man was also silent, bow held at full draw. ¡°Three seconds.¡± ¡°George!¡± John screamed, hopping up onto the wall with a small bundle of sticks he had sharpened earlier. With only moonlight, the shadowed forest could have held hundreds and John cursed. Screw the effort, he wanted that treeline cleared out as soon as possible. The Ranger released his arrow and a pained grunt sounded from the forest, followed by the snapping of a branch and the shaking of trees. A short pause, then a heavy thud. George was already sprinting back to the mill. ¡°Two more coming, archer¡¯s down! I¡¯ll go get Sleazeball!¡± With that, John was alone atop the wall, well aware that with the firelight behind him, it would be much easier for him to be seen than for him to see. True to George¡¯s declaration, a large man with - was that plate armour? - and a woman in leathers with a long spear were running for the wall. He was less worried about the armoured one than the one with the spear. Should she thrust, the blade could easily reach the height of his perch. He would have to be smart. John steadied his breath, clutching the sharpened sticks with a grip that turned his knuckles white. The spear-wielding figure advanced with a predatory grace, her silhouette a ghostly blur against the flickering shadows. The armoured behemoth was slower, but his presence was like a rolling boulder, unstoppable and inevitable. The woman reached the wall first, her spear poised to strike. With a quick faint, she lunged towards his throat, only to divert and sink the spearhead into his left shoulder as his arm came up to block. It was fast, almost too fast to track. John hissed in pain as she removed the spear, knowing he had to act swiftly even through the pain. He waited until she drew back her arm, then, with a swift motion, he thrust one of his sticks through an opening in the wall, aiming for her weapon hand. The stick met its mark, knocking the spear off its deadly course even if it didn¡¯t pierce her glove. The woman recoiled, a hiss of pain escaping her lips as she clutched her injured hand. The stick had shattered, though. The armoured giant was now at the base of the wall, searching for a foothold. John couldn¡¯t let him climb. He dropped another stick, aiming for the man¡¯s helmeted head. The stick bounced off harmlessly, but it caught the giant¡¯s attention. With a roar, the man began to ascend the wall, his fingers finding purchase in the smallest of crevices. John had only moments to act. He grabbed the second last of his sticks and waited, eyes scanning the plate for any sign of weakness before the obvious answer struck him. As the giant¡¯s head crested the wall, John struck, driving the stick down into a gap in the armour at the neck. The giant¡¯s roar turned into a gurgle, and he slumped, his weight pulling him back to the ground with a heavy thud. The spear-wielding woman shouted a name, but John couldn¡¯t hear her. He was encased in a swirling cocoon of light that swept his body from top to bottom. Then, he could see. Picking up a hard scrap of wood in one hand and one final stick in the other, he marvelled that his shoulder no longer hurt. His head felt fuzzy, as if he had studied for hours on something, but he could not figure out what. As the flash of light faded, John¡¯s demeanour shifted palpably. His stance became more grounded, his eyes more calculating. The woman, Kyla, had recovered from her initial shock and was circling the base of the wall, her movements those of a cornered predator, desperate yet deadly. John observed her with the cold detachment of a commander who had seen countless battles, his mind racing through strategies and manoeuvres that felt as natural to him as breathing. Kyla launched herself at the wall again, her spear aimed at John¡¯s heart. But he was ready. With a deft movement reminiscent of a testudo formation, he used the large scrap as a shield to absorb the impact, the sound of wood against wood echoing through the night. She was relentless, attacking again and again, but each time John countered with the precision of a man who had commanded legions. The dance of death continued, Kyla¡¯s ferocity clashing with John¡¯s newfound martial prowess. Then, seizing an opening, John feinted, drawing Kyla into overextending. With a swift thrust, he drove a sharpened stick, his gladius in this desperate fight, into her side, piercing through the leather and into flesh. Kyla gasped, her eyes wide with shock and pain, her strength fading as she stumbled back. John did not celebrate; there was no joy in this victory. He knew that without medical attention, Kyla¡¯s wound would be fatal within hours. His duty was clear; he had to ensure the safety of his companions. With one last look at the fallen warrior, he turned and rushed off to aid George and Miriam, his mind already on the next threat, his spirit in line with the class that he had just acquired. Later, he would reveal to the group what he had gotten, but for now he pressed to relieve his comrades. George, on the other hand, had arrived just barely in time to see Singh dancing back from darts of arcane light, nimble enough to dodge the projectiles without giving up ground. He could see, in the brief moment before he joined the fray, the look of indignant anger on Miriam¡¯s face as she brandished her wand. So far, she had been lucky to manage to block with her staff, but she was growing tired and desperate, where Singh appeared to have not broken a sweat yet. In the dim light of the ruined mill, George¡¯s silhouette appeared, a torch in hand, its flames casting an eerie glow on the battle within. The bow, useless in the cramped space, was abandoned for the makeshift weapon he now wielded. As he entered the fray, the torch¡¯s fire seemed to dance with the same cruel mirth as Singh, who was toying with his opponents like a cat with a mouse. ¡°Oh, so close!¡± He called as he stepped back, to the side, and forth, almost square-dancing as he avoided Miriam¡¯s darts. ¡°You know, I think we¡¯ll take you once we kill the big guy out front. You¡¯ve got that magic in you.¡± Singh ducked low under one dart, swiping his sword out at George¡¯s grip. George pulled his hand back to avoid losing fingers, and was made off balance for the brutal front kick that snapped into his stomach. Singh¡¯s sword was a blur, each movement calculated to inflict pain but not to kill. He manoeuvred with a grace that belied the sadistic intent behind each strike. George¡¯s attempts to land a blow were met with swift and precise counters, the torch doing little more than illuminating Singh¡¯s mocking grin. Even with his back turned, Singh never lost track of his two opponents. ¡°Even with a friend you two can¡¯t hit me! What are you, level one?¡± Miriam, her energy waning, fought with a desperation that only the cornered know. Her spells, once bright and forceful, now flickered like the dying light of her hope. The cuts and bruises they sustained were testament to Singh¡¯s cruel expertise, and as the stinging of lacerations spread across her body, Miriam''s mind went to a panicked place that for some reason seemed as clear as crystal now. ¡°You can¡¯t be level one, you have gear! Well, I have gear, you just don¡¯t know it yet. Be a good girl and die, would you?¡± Miriam¡¯s true survival instincts surged, shaking off the dust from the Before. With a final, desperate act, she cast her Flare Gun spell. The mill erupted in blinding light, engulfing friend and foe alike. Temporarily blinded, they seized the moment; George and Miriam¡¯s retreat was hasty and pained, but driven by the realisation that they were no match for Singh in those close quarters. They emerged from the mill, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of battle. With Singh¡¯s footsteps echoing behind them, they knew they had to find John. John found them first. ¡°Down!¡± A voice commanded in the night, and the pair obeyed, the Acolyte falling to her knees while the Ranger dove to the side, rolling quickly to his feet and breaking for the shadows of the wall. A blade whistled overhead, finding nothing to cut except for the air, and a grunt followed, driving a form back. Singh coughed from where John had him pinned up against the wall of the mill, the man steady and firm against the struggling attacker. Miriam felt tears spring to her eyes for the briefest moment before wiping them away - she wouldn¡¯t admit it, but she had been absolutely terrified when the sword-wielder had shown up. That Flare Gun had cost her the last of her MP, which more than anything had told her that she was done for. George had distracted Singh long enough for her to cast the new spell, but John was the real hero. ¡°What about the rest?¡± She panted out from the ground. ¡°We ha-¡± Singh spit, before the meaty thwack of a fist changed his words to blood. ¡°Silence. Civilised people are talking.¡± John asserted, glaring down at the shorter man he had pinned. After a moment of searching, John nodded. ¡°George claims one archer down. I took down the heavy-armoured fellow, and spear-lady won¡¯t live through the night without medical attention.¡± Miriam scrambled across the ground, picking up the dropped sword and giving it to John. ¡°Ezekiel¡¯s not down.¡± Singh said with a savage, blood-filled grin. ¡°He¡¯s hunting. He won¡¯t stop until you¡¯re all dead.¡± John¡¯s gaze whipped back to his prisoner. ¡°Miriam, get some ropes. We¡¯ll see if this Ezekiel fellow will trade his party mate for leaving us the fuck alone.¡± ¡°Nope! He¡¯d rather spill you-¡± The sharp clanging sound of John¡¯s horsehair helm slamming into the prisoners face echoed through the night. A stolen sword found its blade against its previous owner¡¯s throat, and said owner finally forced to be silent for the first time in his life. ¡°What a nuisance.¡± John mumbled, shaking his head after dropping the unconscious man. ¡°Tell me about it. You know we don¡¯t have ropes, right?¡± Miriam provided with a quivering voice. Looking at her, John could see her a second from falling apart, and sighed again. Where was Mitchell? Where was Sarah? 11. Boss When Mitchell came to, at first he thought he was dead, for he could see nothing. Shortly after accepting that it was over for him, a faint golden glow suffused the area, just enough that he could see Sarah¡¯s bloody face leaned over his torso, poking and prodding at something he couldn¡¯t feel. The room spun and his head felt fuzzy. Sarah said something, but it didn¡¯t sound clear. She grimaced, then gained a glint of determination in her eye, casting another spell on him. The pain caused by the state of his body pierced through the haze like a blinder had been ripped away from his sight, and Mitchell screamed. He hadn¡¯t felt pain like this before, as if a million blades were scraping away at the very tips of his nerves, mainlining sheer agony into his brain, and he passed out. When he woke up again, there was a faint bit of ambient light, and still Sarah leaned over him, bags under her eyes and sweat pouring down her face. When she spoke now, it was not clear, but he could still piece together some words. They were words he didn¡¯t like, the semi-rational part of his brain said, words like ¡®third-degree¡¯ and ¡®skin graft¡¯. The pain was muted, and he realized that the scraping from before was a light breeze that now felt cooling against his skin. He breathed in, and pain sprouted from deep in his throat, commencing a coughing fit. Sarah lifted an oddly shaped bowl and pushed it to his lips, tilting it back to force him to drink. The scent was nasty and dank, but Mitchell knew he needed water and so he took a large gulp. The liquid was immediately spit out as its acrid, vinegary taste filled his mouth. Sarah looked at him in disapproval, lifting the bowl again. Mitchell eyed it with fear, still trying his best not to look - he was okay with cuts, but for some reason burns made him queasy. Eventually, though, he relented and allowed her to raise the bowl again. Despite the taste, Mitchell chugged the substance back and felt it course down his throat, past what had to be burnt tissue and into his stomach. From there, a cold feeling spread outwards, and with a popping sound, his hearing returned in full. He could hear Sarah mumbling under her breath. ¡°Please don¡¯t die, please don¡¯t die, please don¡¯t die, please don- oh!¡± Mitchell had managed to raise an arm to nudge her, only to realize that it was the one with no hand. Sarah quickly stood up, wiping at her bloodshot eyes and activating her new, upgraded Analyze skill: Diagnose. Mitchell LeFleur HP: 24/40 Conditions: Burned (Major) Amputated (Left Hand) Shock (Minor) Determined (Remaining TIme: -:--:----) She breathed a sigh of relief. Over the past 4 hours, she had been working on him non-stop, slinging her spells as soon as she had the MP for it and using the First Aid kit while she waited for the points to regenerate. Now she could finally focus on the battle going on around her. The carpenter ants exhibited profound levels of intelligence for their species. They appeared to hold some sort of gratitude towards the pair, and had stood guard over Sarah while she had healed Mitchell. It was good, as soon enough the fire ants had sent reinforcements, and there was fierce fighting at the tunnel leading further into the dungeon. One fire ant worker fell for each 3 of the carpenters, but the warriors were closer to an even match. The fire ant warrior had much hotter flames, but the carpenter ants carapace let it cut through those flames with enough time to kill the fire ant before itself succumbing to the burns. The stench in this chamber was rancid and horrid, the nooks and crannies starting to pile up with carcasses. She¡¯d gathered up the equipment, the melted remains of Mitchell¡¯s shield gradually reshaping itself, and had set about trying to fix burns that covered an entire body. With a small, sharp mandible and liberal usage of her disinfectant spell, she¡¯d cut away the skin that couldn¡¯t be saved, and used a suite of three spells to rejuvenate the skin then mend it back together where it had grown tight and cracked. She could only do about a square inch each minute, and the conundrum of dealing with what lie underneath his clothes was a minor point of hesitation for her, but her Diagnose had let her know he was still going to be losing HP over time so long as the burns remained Severe. That had pushed her past any thoughts of prudishness. Finally, the terrible oozing wounds were labeled as just Major, and she could relax, taking back the bowl from her patient. The ants had pushed the bowl full of the odd, viscous liquid towards her multiple times until she¡¯d diagnosed it as some form of natural medicine her skill was too low to get the details of. It smelt like death and tasted like the most curdled vinegar, but its healing and nutritional effects could not be denied. Sarah blinked her vision back into focus upon hearing a sharp intake of breath, and to her absolute shock, Mitchell was actively attempting to get up. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± She let out without thinking, and even after a moment didn¡¯t apologize or take it back. That was warranted. Mitchell turned to speak, but something must have caught because instead he curled up and began coughing. Dirty hacks echoed through the cave, a final hawking revealing a coagulated mass of blood that he spit up. He lay on the cave floor, groaning, even as the black carpenter ants scuttled past him to the front line of their battle. ¡°I can¡¯t stop trying.¡± ¡°Yes, you can. In fact, it would be much smarter to start thinking of a way out.¡± Mitchell turned to her with a glare. ¡°No, I can¡¯t. I got a quest this morning.¡± Sarah frowned at him. He¡¯d had a quest all day, and told nobody. ¡°What kind of quest?¡± Mitchell spit again, clearing his throat. ¡°The kind I¡¯m forced to do, let¡¯s just leave it at that.¡± She scoffed. ¡°No? You¡¯re forced into a qu-¡± ¡°The System Chooses. That¡¯s the name of the quest.¡± Sarah stopped in her protest, as Mitchell genuinely looked on the verge of a breakdown. ¡°What¡­ what is the quest, Mitchell?¡± He snarled, animalistic, and pushed himself to his feet through the knives of agony that scraped across raw skin. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, Sarah! I¡¯m not going to do it!¡± She placed a hand on his shoulder, not pushing, but stopping him from rising. It wasn¡¯t subtle, but she cast a Calm Mind, and his shoulders visibly slumped. ¡°You might not plan on doing it, but it clearly bothers you. Give me ten more minutes to keep working on those burns after a break, and then we¡¯ll push through and beat this dungeon - or find a way out? Either way, we¡¯re going to talk about this. I want to know why we¡¯re risking our lives. That¡¯s only fair.¡± He grunted, and the two of them sat in silence for a moment. Eventually, Sarah began to work on the wounds and after a couple minutes of hissed breath and twitches, Mitchell spoke. ¡°¡®Integration is a tumultuous time, but also one of great opportunity. Be the last one standing at the end of the tutorial, and be rewarded greatly.¡¯ This system wants me to kill thousands of people.¡± Sarah was quiet for a moment. ¡°You could just¡­ not.¡± ¡°¡®Rewards: Class Potential Boost, 50,000,000 XP, 500 C-Coins(500,000,000 Coins), Settlement Stone, -REP All.¡¯ So It would make me rich, powerful, and hated. ¡®Penalties: Class locked, 0XP, 1 Coin, Settlement Stone, permanently crippled.¡¯¡± Mitch growled out. Sarah¡¯s mouth gaped for a moment. Even with her most basic of ethics classes, she could tell that was no choice at all. ¡°That¡¯s why you came out here?¡± The injured man nodded slowly. ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidding. I¡¯d rather be dead than be the last one left. We do this together, or not at all.¡± ¡°Together, then.¡± Sarah nodded blankly, knowing that showing her lack of worry about the revelation was the best way to heal an injured heart. He looked at her with genuine surprise, then a grateful smile, before leaning his head back against the cool stone and closing his eyes. Sarah did worry, though. She worried for herself, in this dank cave with a horde of ants standing between them and a fiery end. She worried for John, the big optimistic man, quick to trust and slow to anger. She worried for Miriam and for George, and for all of the people they¡¯d yet to meet. She worried about the System, and what it might mean for them that it saw human life so cheaply. She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the jagged rock next to Mitchells remaining hand, and debating whether she should use it on him before he used it on her. She hadn¡¯t noticed it until he had shared his quest. Troubling.
It took roughly two hours for Mitchell to become ambulatory, which was essentially a miracle by modern medical standards. Sarah zapped him with a disinfect spell every five minutes or so, and soon the skin had actually grown back, rendering Sarah¡¯s skin graft attempts less medicine and more¡­ well. ¡°I didn¡¯t torture you.¡± ¡°Is that what you¡¯re going to say in court?¡± Mitchell jested, in a much better mood than previously. ¡°Your honour, I swear on my life, nuh-uh!¡± ¡°Court doesn¡¯t exist, Stumpy.¡± Mitchell whirled about with his mouth gaping like a fish. He tried multiple times to respond, but he couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d actually- Oh. She was laughing. He let himself chuckle uneasily, but turned forwards to keep following their guide - or honour guard? - of carpenter ants. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed, filled only with the occasional drip of moisture in the cave and the scuttling of ant chitin against the stone. Eventually, though, Sarah broke the silence. ¡°Mitchell, I¡¯m sorry. With how you were acting about it, I figured it didn¡¯t bother you that much.¡± Mitchell pointedly waved it off with his handless arm. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it later, when there¡¯s less at stake.¡± He thought to himself in silence for a moment before speaking again. ¡°Why do you think they¡¯re protecting us?¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you,¡± Sarah replied honestly, keeping her focus on their path ahead. The carpenter ants led them deeper into the labyrinthine dungeon, a large warrior leading the way with others flanking them on each side. The chamber echoed with the occasional drip of moisture and the steady scuttling of ant chitin against stone. The journey through the dungeon had taken its toll on both of them. Sarah¡¯s spells had exhausted her, and Mitchell¡¯s injuries still lingered, despite the initial treatment. He leaned on Sarah for support, his steps hesitant but determined. As they proceeded, a fire ant suddenly scuttled out of a nearby tunnel. Before they could react, the carpenter ant guards surged forward with surprising speed. In a blur of mandibles and chitin, they overpowered the intruder and left its carcass behind, its mandibles ripped off as if in a ritualistic manner. ¡°It¡¯s odd,¡± Mitchell remarked, watching the ants with fascination and unease. ¡°Why would they go to such lengths to protect us? Why remove the mandibles?¡± Sarah shook her head, equally perplexed. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but we should be cautious. There¡¯s something deeper going on here. They¡¯re clearly smarter than ants from Before.¡± They continued deeper into the dungeon, the air growing warmer and more oppressive with each step. Soon, they arrived at a vast chamber with a ceiling that seemed to stretch into darkness. The walls were lined with intricate tunnels, some emanating faint glows from within¡ªsigns of the fire ants¡¯ nest. As they approached the center of the chamber, they spotted a contingent of fire ant guards guarding a large tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern. These ants were larger and more menacing, their fiery carapaces pulsing with internal heat. They stood in formation, mandibles clicking and antennae twitching as they assessed the intruders¡ªMitchell and Sarah. The carpenter ants halted, forming a protective circle around the humans. The large warrior ant in the front chittered loudly, its antennae waving in what seemed like a signal to the fire ants. There was a tense standoff, neither side moving to attack nor retreat. Sarah gripped her staff tightly, readying herself for whatever would come next. ¡°Mitchell, be ready. We might have to fight our way through.¡± Mitchell nodded, his gaze fixed on the fire ants. ¡°Or negotiate. Maybe they¡¯ll listen to reason.¡± Before Sarah could respond, the chamber echoed with a high-pitched chittering. From one of the tunnels to the side, a figure emerged¡ªa massive carpenter ant, easily three times the size of the warriors. This was undoubtedly the carpenter queen they had guessed about. The queen moved with a regal grace, her antennae twitching as she surveyed the scene. Her eyes settled on Mitchell and Sarah, and she emitted a low, rumbling chirp that seemed to reverberate through the chamber. Giant Carpenter Ant Queen Level 15 Conditions: Determined (00:000:060) Malnourished (Minor) Resplendent (Major) ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± Sarah whispered, awestruck by the sight of the queen. Mitchell stepped forward cautiously, raising his hand in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. ¡°We come in peace,¡± he called out, his voice echoing faintly against the chamber walls. As the noise faded, he swallowed his fear and bowed his head. The queen approached slowly, her mandibles clicking in a rhythmic pattern. She stopped a few feet away, her compound eyes fixated on Mitchell and Sarah with an intensity that was both unnerving and curious. Sarah took a tentative step forward, keeping her gaze respectfully lowered. ¡°We seek your help,¡± she began, choosing her words carefully. ¡°We need to reach the fire ant queen¡ªto end this conflict.¡± The queen¡¯s antennae twitched, and she emitted another low chirp. The carpenter ants around them seemed to relax slightly, sensing their queen¡¯s approval. The queen reached forward with one of her forelegs and rested the hard material under Mitchell¡¯s chin, lifting his gaze. Mitchell glanced at Sarah, then back at the queen. ¡°Will you help us end the tyranny of the flames, your highness?¡± The queen paused, considering their request. Finally, she emitted a series of chirps and clicks, a language that neither Mitchell nor Sarah understood¡ªbut the intent seemed clear. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ agreed?¡± Sarah whispered, relief threatening to wash over her. Mitchell nodded, a weight lifting from his shoulders. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly, bowing his head slightly to the queen once more, this time in genuine thanks. With a final chitter, the queen turned and led the way deeper into the chamber, her warriors falling into formation around Mitchell and Sarah. They followed cautiously, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they approached the lair of the fire ant queen. As they ventured further, the chamber opened up into a massive cavern¡ªthe heart of the fire ants¡¯ domain. Lava pools bubbled at the edges, casting an eerie glow over the scene. And there, at the far end, seated on a throne of obsidian and molten rock, was the fire ant queen. The fire ant queen sat upon her seat of power, her presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure. Her fiery carapace pulsed with channels of internal heat, casting an ominous glow across the cavernous chamber. Her mandibles twitched with anticipation as she assessed the intruders¡ªMitchell, Sarah, and their unlikely escort of carpenter ant warriors and the massive queen. Sarah felt a surge of apprehension but kept her composure, her fingers tightening around her staff. Mitchell stood beside her, his gaze steady despite the tension that permeated the air. The carpenter ant queen led the way, her massive form moving with deliberate grace. Her warriors formed a protective circle around Mitchell and Sarah, ready to defend them if needed. The fire ant guards eyed them warily, their mandibles clicking in agitation. Without warning, one of the smaller fire ant guards screeched and lunged forward, intent on attacking Mitchell. But before anyone could react, the fire ant queen raised her foreleg and with a swift flick of her antennae, unleashed a bolt of searing fire. The fire ant guard convulsed as the fiery projectile pierced its head, leaving a glowing, smoking hole between its large eyes. The carcass skidded to a halt, a stark reminder of the power and ruthlessness of the fire ant queen. Mitchell and Sarah exchanged a quick, tense glance, silently reaffirming their resolve. They had come too far to turn back now. The fate of their quest¡ªand the lives of their companions¡ªdepended on their ability to negotiate or, if necessary, to fight. At the least, this was proof that the fire ant queen was intelligent enough to punish a lack of decorum. She could be considered civilised. The fire ant queen regarded them with a mix of curiosity and hostility, her antennae twitching as if weighing their presence. Sarah took a step forward, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. ¡°We seek to end this conflict peacefully,¡± Sarah declared, her tone respectful yet firm. ¡°We wish to speak with you, Queen of the Fire Ants, to find a resolution that benefits both our peoples.¡± The fire ant queen¡¯s mandibles clicked in response, her eyes narrowing slightly. She emitted a series of chitters and clicks, a language that resonated deep within the chamber. The carpenter ant queen beside Mitchell and Sarah responded in kind, her own clicks carrying a sense of urgency and diplomacy. Mitchell held his breath, watching the exchange intently. He knew that their fate hinged on the outcome of this negotiation. He hoped against hope that their plea for peace would be heard. After what seemed like an eternity, the fire ant queen emitted a final, decisive chirp. The tension in the chamber eased slightly as she gestured with her foreleg, indicating that she would allow them to speak. Sarah took a deep breath, her mind racing with the weight of their goal. ¡°We believe that our conflict is not necessary,¡± she continued, choosing her words carefully. ¡°There are greater threats beyond these tunnels that we must face together. Let us find a way to coexist peacefully, for the sake of our survival.¡± The fire ant queen regarded them silently for a moment, her antennae twitching as if considering Sarah¡¯s words. Then, with a deliberate motion, she emitted a single, resounding chirp¡ªa signal that echoed through the chamber. Even Mitchell could translate the meaning of that one. ¡®Not ours.¡¯ The fire ant guards around them shifted uneasily, their mandibles clicking in uncertainty. But before anyone could react, the carpenter ant queen stepped forward, her clicks and chirps carrying a sense of urgency and alliance. From this distance, Sarah could finally recognize that they were getting hit by the pheromones that ants used to communicate. ¡®All!¡¯ The carpenter queen protested. ¡®We are stronger. Must build stronger. Think stronger.¡¯ The fire ant queen hesitated for a moment longer, then emitted another chirp¡ªa subtle gesture of defiance. ¡®Not strong enough.¡¯ The carpenter queen almost vanished in Mitchell¡¯s sight, its legs pumping fast enough to be blurs, and its mandibles crushed the back of the recently occupied throne. With a screech, the fire queen fell from where she had jumped, unleashing a stream of fire at the carpenter queen that missed but left the stone glowing with heat where it had impacted the cave floor. That was all Mitchell had time to see before flares of flames and screeching, thrashing bodies surrounded him, and even Sarah was yanked away from him in the commotion. He was jostled back in forth like he was in a hard, smelly mosh pit - so a normal mosh pit - until a flash of red was in front of him, distractedly trying to avoid the snapping of a nearby mass of black, and Mitchell roared forwards, slamming the shield down on the joint and detaching a leg. Sarah, on the other hand, was having a very easy time. She only had to cast one spell to heal one of her allies, though unfortunately if anything got through the chitin, she was unable to help. Either way, she was soon swept onto the back of the first guard she had healed, and that guard scuttled up and down the slowly forming line of battle, getting her to injured ants and bringing them back into the fight. From her vantage point, she could see the absolutely brutal battle between the queens. All semblance of dignity, grace, and poise had been thrown off as soon as the battle started. They screeched and tore, burnt and slammed, and flickered around the room with the speed of their fight. She saw Mitchell leap forwards, a snarl on his face as he systematically removed the legs from the guard that was against his part of the line. When that one fell, two carpenters were able to gang up on one fire ant, and soon after that one fell, the line began to crumble and individual fights broke out. Rather than assist with the mop-up, Mitchell sprinted forwards towards the throne. Another ant guard tried to intercept him, removing yet another fire-ant from the line, and Mitchell gave a malicious grin, bellowing something into the cavern she couldn¡¯t make out past the sheer noise. For a brief moment, she imagined being down there, face-to-face with something that was trying to kill her, and determined she would not be able to smile.
Mitchell couldn¡¯t keep the smile off his face. He could feel it. If they could do this, he would get his class. He just had to push through. He had to endure. Burns built up behind his metal shield. Scratches and scrapes turned to bleeding cuts and bruises. Yet through it all, Mitchell had lost himself in the heat of battle. At some point he had picked up a mandible and was using it to gouge eyes out, leaving the blinded ants behind for his comrades to finish off. After breaking through the initial defences of the fire ant guards, Mitchell forged ahead towards the chaotic centre of the chamber where the two queens battled fiercely. The air crackled with the scent of burning chitin and the intense heat from the lava pools nearby. Sarah, mounted on the back of a healed carpenter ant guard, kept her staff at the ready, casting healing spells whenever she could to aid her allies in the skirmishes around her. She scanned the battlefield for Mitchell, her heart pounding with worry as she saw him darting through the fray towards the throne where the fire ant queen had sat. Meanwhile, the battle between the two queens raged on. The carpenter ant queen fought valiantly, her larger size and strength giving her an advantage in the melee combat. She lunged and slashed with her mandibles, aiming to cripple her fiery counterpart. The fire ant queen, undeterred, retaliated with bursts of searing flames and swift strikes of her razor-sharp mandibles, forcing the carpenter queen to abort attacks and dodge. It was largely a stalemate, but with each passing moment, the carpenter queen got more wounded. Mitchell¡¯s path to the throne was not unchallenged. He clashed with fire ant guards along the way, using his makeshift weapons¡ªbe it a discarded mandible or his own sheer strength¡ªto disable them swiftly. Each step brought him closer to his target, closer to delivering the decisive blow that could turn the tide of the battle. With a final burst of speed, Mitchell broke through the last line of guards and stood before the throne where the fire ant queen reigned. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing with fury as she recognized the threat he posed. Mitchell gripped his shield tightly, sweat mingling with the grime and blood on his face. ¡°You will not stop me!¡± Mitchell shouted, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. He lunged forward, shield raised to deflect the queen¡¯s fiery attacks. The fire ant queen unleashed a torrent of flames, aiming to engulf Mitchell and force him back. But he pressed on, using his shield to deflect the worst of the heat and pressing closer with each step. He could feel the searing heat against his skin, threatening to overwhelm him, but he pushed through the pain. He knew, deep down, that it was temporary. Sarah would fix it. Sarah, from her vantage point, saw Mitchell¡¯s determination and courage. She focused her magic, sending a wave of healing energy towards him, bolstering his strength and resolve. Mitchell felt a surge of renewed energy, his muscles tensing with determination and magically provided adrenaline as he closed the distance between himself and the fire ant queen. With a swift, calculated move, Mitchell swung his shield low, aiming for the fire ant queen¡¯s legs. The impact was jarring, knocking the queen off balance and causing her to stumble back, her mandibles clacking in surprise and pain. Mitchell seized the opportunity, pressing his advantage. Dropping the heated shield before his chest, he pushed forwards. An uppercut pushed the fire queen¡¯s head skywards, the torrent of flame still searing his skin from this distance. Lashing out with a leg, Mitchell was flung back by the queen¡¯s strength, and Sarah heard an audible crack echo throughout the cavern when he landed with a groan of agony. The fire ant queen shot forwards to follow up and Sarah''s heart leapt into her throat. This would be it. The charge had failed. A clanging sound and a burst of movement later saw the battered carpenter ant queen bodily check Mitchells assailant, a broken black antennae falling limply to the ground. ¡°C¡¯mon buddy, we gotta help them!¡± She rapped her staff against the back of her guard, anxiety flooding her veins even as she cast Adrenal Response. She was no tactician, but she knew that without him and his reckless aggression, it was only a matter of time before the fire queen killed them all. They need to break formations and scatter plans. With a screech, the ant powered forwards, another pair of guards flanking her. They reached the battle line, and the guards advanced, tying up a pair of fire ants long enough for her to punch through. She looked on the floor for Mitchell, only to hear a heavy, pained screech. She looked on in horror as the fire queen finally landed a solid hit on the carpenter queen, an almost inconspicuous bolt of fire sinking into its abdomen. The form of the queen shuddered, then fell still. ¡°No!¡± Mitchell cried out, and she was shocked at the loss and pain she could hear in his voice. He staggered to his feet, limping forward - towards the fire ant queen. ¡°You- Fuc- RAAAGGGHH!¡± Loss turned to rage, and his limping gait sped up even as his shielded arm swung injured at his side. ¡°I will KILL YOU!¡± He bellowed. The fire queen sat back on her throne and looked down at him imperiously. With a dismissive wave of its hand, another small bolt flew out and- Mitchell¡¯s eyes glowed with a pale blue light, and his shield rose, slamming out against the bolt. Rather than splashing against and heating the shield, the bolt skimmed off to the side, slamming into the back of one of the fire ant warriors and piercing it from end to end. He did not stop his advance. With a confused chirp, the fire queen shot two bolts of fire out. With a grunt of pain and a still limp arm, Mitchell rolled off to the one side to dodge the first and slammed his shield out again, sending another fire bolt unerringly towards a fire ant warrior. ¡°That won¡¯t work on me, tyrant!¡± Sarah just gaped. Those fire bolts should be melting his arm, yet Mitchell¡¯s eyes continued to glow with that pale blue, and when she focussed, she saw a flash of the same colour around his shield when it hit the attacks. The fire-queen stood, almost looking insulted. Raising four of its legs towards the sky, it raised itself to two legs, and an orb of fire began to grow above her head. Even from here, she could feel the roiling waves of heat, so she could only imagine what Mitchell felt, even as she saw the blood from his wounds steaming. In his mind, Mitchell was singularly focussed. A small part of his brain was screaming at him to stop, because he was causing too much damage to his body. Another small part was telling him to back off, to regroup with the carpenter ants and come up with some sort of trap or ambush. The last small part reasoned that even if he killed the queen, who knew how large the colony was? The majority raged. How dare she kill his ally? How dare she stand in the way of him? Of his goals? Of the survival of humanity? Something clicked in his mind, and thoughts bubbled to the surface unbidden, his lips moving and words emerging almost automatically. "We had conquered fire long ago. When famine came, we planned and endured. When tyrants conquered and killed, we defied. When disease ravaged the land, we persevered. When the very essence of the heavens themselves were laid on paper for all to see, mankind had looked at it and asked ¡®are you sure that¡¯s right?¡¯" "We built stronger metals than any in nature. We created containers and parts that would live long after our civilization had left its cradle. We discovered the secrets of space, the eternal presence of time, the unassailable force of gravity. We took dangerous plants and ate them for flavour. We are mankind, and we will move onwards, ever onwards, until the dark either takes us or is itself defeated." A bolt of fire shot out from behind, not at him but above, dislodging a stalactite that he blocked with his shield. A red-hot wave of pain shot up his arm, and he almost felt his bones creaking in protest, but he mustered the strength to push the rock aside. ¡°You call yourself a Queen?!¡± With a yell of effort and the crunching of an ignored injury, Mitchell slammed his shield with both hands into the fire queen¡¯s face, shattering one of the dangerous and sharp mandibles. He felt sizzling on his head as his hair caught fire from the ball of flames above, but that pain was forced down like so much else. He was more than himself now. He was the vengeful spirit of those who spat defiance at nature, at the way things were in favour of the way things should be. ¡°You try to hinder our path?¡± The words spilled out of his lips unbidden, some force in his mind guiding him through some ritual of combat and death. ¡°We refuse! In the name of mankind, of all of our species, step aside!¡± The Queen screeched, and slammed its raised limbs down with a malicious motion. Rather than raise it to protect himself from the impending, Mitchell reared his shield back. Even as he felt the skin on the back of his neck bubbling, and his eyes drying out, he felt even more the rush of power and knew how to succeed. A million varied voices echoed over his in a chorus of angry determination. ¡°You shall not stop the March!¡± The shield crunched forwards even as the fireball hit the ground, and the cavern exploded into a conflagration of light and heat. Smoke filled the air, choking and unmoving in the dank air of the cave. A figure stood among two gigantic carcasses, briefly surrounded by a golden light before the gold faded and all that remained were the flickering fire-lights of burning ant parts. The figure collapsed, burying his face and sobbing gently. Sarah felt more than saw a glow around herself as well, but disregarded it as she made her way forwards. She could check out any levels later. Sarah moved forward, slowly, diagnosing him once she could see him and sucking in a breath at the result. Mitchell LeFleur Page of the March, Level 8 HP: 3/150 Conditions: Burned (Major) Blessing of the Condemned Queen (000:00:003) Even as she watched, the timer ran out and Mitchell stiffened in pain. ¡°Help. Please.¡± He sobbed through his hands. Both of his hands. Sarah rushed forward. ¡°No!¡± He shouted, voice hoarse. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Her. Please.¡± With a wavering hand, he pointed over to the queen. She turned back to protest, but even as she watched, his health ticked up by one point. With a growl, she listened to him and began her first foray into veterinary science.
BLOOPER!! Amid the chaos of battle, the two queens fiercely tore at each other with no regard for the rest of the conflict. Each blow was calculated and powerful, a stark contrast to the messy brawls happening among their soldiers. Suddenly, a piercing screech echoed through the cavern as the fire ant queen landed a decisive hit, an almost inconspicuous bolt sinking into the carpenter queen''s abdomen. The form of the carpenter queen shuddered, then fell still. Mitchell''s cry of despair cut through the din, but Sarah''s attention was drawn to something unexpected. Mitchell, despite his injuries and pain, was laughing¡ªa deep, almost maniacal laugh. ¡°Mitchell, what¡¯s so funny?¡± Sarah shouted over the noise, her voice edged with concern and confusion. Mitchell, struggling to catch his breath between bouts of laughter, managed to choke out, ¡°Guess she just couldn¡¯t... handle the heat!¡± Sarah groaned and whacked him with her staff. BLOOPER!!! Narrator: As the fire ants swarmed closer, Mitchell frantically looked at his guidebook. Mitchell: flipping pages Uh, excuse me, these ants aren¡¯t in the book. Fire Ant: tiny voice That¡¯s because we¡¯re on page 404¡ªwe¡¯re the error page! BLOOPER! After what seemed like an eternity, the fire ant queen emitted a final, decisive chirp. The tension in the chamber eased slightly as she gestured with her foreleg, indicating that she would allow them to speak. Sarah took a deep breath, her mind racing with the weight of their goal. ¡°We believe that our conflict is not necessary,¡± she continued, choosing her words carefully. ¡°There are greater threats beyond these tunnels that we must face together. Let us find a way to coexist peacefully, for the sake of our survival.¡± The fire ant queen regarded them silently for a moment, her antennae twitching as if considering Sarah¡¯s words. Then, with a deliberate motion, she emitted a single, resounding chirp¡ªa signal that echoed through the chamber. Even Mitchell could translate the meaning of that one. ¡®Fuckin¡¯ nerd.¡¯ 12. Reunion ¡°Can we gag him? I vote we gag him,¡± George said idly, his sarcasm a familiar shield against the rising tension. The crooning sounds of Singh¡¯s voice emitted from the ruins of the mill grating on everyone''s nerves. ¡°No, we won¡¯t gag him,¡± John declared as he rolled his eyes at the obvious banter, still wondrous at his new abilities. Even beyond the apparent ability to fight with scutum and gladius, his words carried weight, and his goals had a sense of surety. John found he was second-guessing himself less, and with that came a weight of confidence that was only slightly hampered by his less than ideal sunrise. The morning had been spent on clean-up, and it had been gruesome. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m gonna do a patrol. Can¡¯t stand this.¡± Almost as if to emphasise his point, Singh¡¯s song rose to a high, undulating pitch, and George cringed. ¡°C¡¯mon, Nimbus!¡± The two strolled to the edge of their walled area casually, but once they got there, Nimbus hopped up into the trees and George bounded over the fortification like it wasn¡¯t there. John shook his head, still coming to terms with the sheer impossibility of the feats that they could now perform. Speaking of the fortification, John had yet to examine where he had held the wall. He knew there would be blood that he had spilled himself, but outside of the hot-blooded rush of combat, he was easily able to admit he was afraid of seeing the mess. That would make it real, instead of- ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Miriam screamed out from the river, right as Singh had begun another high-pitched, keening solo. The voice faltered, then began even louder if possible. She groaned in frustration, then moved as far down the river as she could without being outside the barricade. John closed his eyes and sighed, considering the situation and trying not to listen to the captive. The sneaky archer had escaped, and by the looks of things, had dragged off the spear-wielding woman. Without medical care, she was doomed. With Singh captured, and the larger man dead, their gear had been distributed. Singh had only had his sword, which would work for George for now. A rapier wasn¡¯t ideal for the woodsman he was turning into, but it beat a knife. The plate armour, however, wasn¡¯t causing any issues in his class. In fact, part of him rejoiced, if he could just fit his troops with armour of this quality, none could stand again- John shook his head at that thought. He didn¡¯t have any troops, nor a campaign to equip them for. He was still getting used to the sheer amount of knowledge that had been crammed into his head, even as he adjusted the tools at his belt. His Centurion chest had contained a basic set of leather armour with small metal reinforcements. Complete with the skirt. John had opted for the plate armour. Other than the armour, The chest contained a quiver with 5 of the pointed javelins designed to bend and hamper the enemies shield - a pilum, his class helpfully supplied. Finally, it held a full body scutum shield, and a chipped but serviceable gladius. Meanwhile Miriam was by the river, practising her wand-draw. Every so often, he saw her screw up her face in concentration, but the end result didn¡¯t seem to change. With a sigh, he gathered up the pieces of armour and brought them over to the rushing water. Miriam drew her wand, blasting a bolt of magic at the river before holstering it again in a loop she¡¯d fashioned from some improvised cord. She then made the drawing motion again, and John faintly saw one of those glowing geometric patterns start forming in the air before it crumbled into dust and faded. It was not hard to piece out what she was trying to do. ¡°Good morning, Miriam.¡± John started awkwardly. ¡°John,¡± She responded curtly. ¡°Sent George out to find the others?¡± He cursed internally, being focussed on the encampment. ¡°Yea, he¡¯s going off on a patrol.¡± She gave him a side eye, then jammed her wand back into the holster and turned to him fully. ¡°So. Centurion. All I know is it''s some Roman soldier.¡± ¡°Sergeant would be closer, but yes. My first skill was Weapon Mastery, like George, but it looks like it only applies to weapons a Centurion would have used. Javelins, short swords, large shields, and it seems heavy armour counts too.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Miriam said. ¡°Mitchell always went on about how Romans made the best roads and concrete, even with modern methods. You get any of that juice?¡± ¡°No, I hav-'''' John faltered as a flood of images went through his brain of materials, procedures, tools, and slave workers performing manual labour. ¡°Well, I guess I do, but I ain¡¯t using slaves, that¡¯s for damn sure.¡± He cringed, as the song being sung turned to almost a screaming sound. ¡°You sure? We could tie Singh to a tree and move him once he¡¯s past each section.¡± ¡°No.¡± John answered with finality. ¡°Working prisoners is not how I want our group to do things. Makes us no better than that- Would you excuse me for a moment?¡± John picked up a gauntlet off the ground and hefted it in his hands, before slipping it on. Miriam waited patiently as John strolled over to the ruined mill and ducked inside. A dull thud sounded, and the singing voice cut off. John emerged from the mill with a satisfied smile on his face and returned to the river. ¡°Thanks. Where was I?¡± Miriam held back a chuckle. ¡°Before talking about fair treatment of prisoners, you were talking about walls and roads.¡± John grunted. ¡°Can¡¯t do it proper yet. I mean all I need is logs and axes for the wall, but we need at least three people if we¡¯re going to build it like that.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your Strength?¡± Miriam asked. ¡°Huh? Oh, lemme check¡­ Looks like a 16. Why?¡± ¡°Do you know that 16 Strength isn¡¯t enough to lift a tree? Do you even know how much you can lift?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t lift a tree, Miri, that¡¯s some superhero shit.¡± Miriam shrugged. ¡°I guess I can¡¯t cast magic, and George can¡¯t hop through trees, and Sarah can¡¯t heal people by bonking them with a bloody stick. That¡¯s a shame, I guess I must be going crazy.¡± John huffed. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll go try and lift a tree if you clean the armour for me.¡± ¡°Like hell! I wanna see this.¡± Miriam picked up her tome and hurried after him. Ten minutes and a short walk later had the two looking at the same sight, astounded. ¡°Huh,¡± John said, surprised. ¡°Huh,¡± Miriam agreed. ¡°Huh,¡± George deposited from up in the trees. ¡°I wondered what you guys would get up to.¡± John slid the tree trunk into the pit they had dug for it, and marvelled at the solid beam of wood protruding 20 feet into the air. ¡°Turns out, I can lift a tree.¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a small one,¡± George muttered. ¡°Sure.¡± John replied proudly. ¡°You probably couldn¡¯t do that one over there.¡± ¡°Probably not!¡± A golden glow surrounded John, and George cursed. ¡°Damnit! What is it, logger? Lumberjack? Carpenter? Wallbuilder?¡± John let out a beaming smile. ¡°What was it you said about lifting another tree?¡± Name: John Forrest Race: Human (*) Primary Class: Centurion 5 Secondary Class: Carpenter Apprentice 5 Analyse: Briefing I Race Level: 5 HP: 90 MP: 25 SP: 60 STATS STR 22 FOR 10 AGI 10 REF 14 VIT 12 CON 12 INT 5 WIL 10 INS 12 CHA 14 Human Skills: Common Ancestor Duality of Man Species Progenitor Class Skills: Weapon Mastery I The next few hours were spent cutting down trees using the axe found in John''s new chest, and when it began to get dark, he moved from cutting logs to stripping branches and bark. During this time, he was continuously gaining experience in his new Secondary class. Miriam had shortly grown bored of John¡¯s single-minded work and had gone off to study by the river. She was determined to figure out how to cast the dart spell without needing the wand. Everything she knew said it should be possible to do so, but for some reason the array wasn¡¯t staying manifested for long enough. It was significantly more complex than those she¡¯d worked with before, and she just couldn¡¯t trace it all in the time she had before the first shapes started to unravel. George returned to where Nimbus was watching their prey, the injured party of attackers. Through some miracle, they¡¯d managed to stabilise Kyla, though none of them looked fit for combat. The ranger found that surprising, considering they were waiting by an odd path in the forest, and made multiple sounds about ambush. Given what he¡¯d heard, deduction said they were waiting for his own companions. So, George waited for them to wait. He had to say, thanks to his new Willpower, he found it much easier to sit in one spot and focus on a task. So when Mitchell and Sarah pushed through the forest, he was ready and heard them long before the ambushers did.
¡°Oh, the big bad wolf had a big bad bite, and that big bad bite chomped some big bad knights!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, the big bad knights!¡± ¡°The big bad knights found a big bad fright, and drew their big bad swords in the dead of night!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, the dead of night!¡± ¡°In the dead of night with a big bad wolf, the big bad knights began a big bad fight!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, the big bad fight!¡± ¡°Way, hey! The big bad knights had a big bad fright, and one by one, they fell from the big bad height!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, the big bad height!¡± ¡°With a big bad roar and a flash of light, the big bad wolf vanished from their sight!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, the blinded knights!¡± ¡°They discovered too late, in the morning light, the big bad wolf was a dame all right!¡± ¡°Lo, ho, a dame all right!¡± ¡°The big bad bite followed near and far, the poor knights sword got a weeping scar!¡± ¡°Way, hey, near and far!¡± Mitchell and Sarah burst out into laughter, the once imposing and deadly woods seeming more like a pleasant park after their ordeal down in the caves. Between the two, they carried a small but heavy chest. Mitchell had already opened his class chest and had found what was - to him, at least - a standard set of adventuring gear. There was a longsword with a sheath, which Mitchell had happily strapped onto his waist with both of his hands, pleased that the hilt was long enough to two-hand, but still balanced to be used in one. There was a small pack, filled with odds and ends like a wax stamp, a length of braided cord, and a pile of parchment. Finally, there was a beautiful steel breastplate, with a basic embossing depicting an infinite road. Fitting, now that he knew what the March truly was. The March wasn¡¯t even about humanity, though his was devoted to that. Rather, the March was the symbolic representation of progress, which in humanity led to adaptation, defiance, and ingenuity. His Weapon Mastery had reflected that, only showing him moves, blocks, or manoeuvres that ended up with him moving forwards, and he imagined further skills would rely on surety and aggression. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Oddly enough, though, most of his tips in Weapon Mastery were defensive. As he had swung his sword a few times, before they had left the charnel house that the dungeon had become, he¡¯d almost sensed different ways he could twist and flourish the blade to riposte or feint, but never with any sort of retreating motion. They were all-or-nothing attacks. Then there was the stat increase. STATS STR 25** FOR 25** AGI 10 REF 10 VIT 20* CON 10 INT 10 WIL 33*** INS 9 CHA 8 Clearly, he was getting mountains of Willpower with his Page levels, though Strength and Fortitude were not far behind, and without that Vitality boost he would have died down in the queen¡¯s chamber. That final fight was a blur. He¡¯d felt some sort of rush when the carpenter queen had fallen, and from what Sarah said, he¡¯d had the tail end of a buff pushing his health back up after the fact, so he could only deduce that in her last moments, the carpenter queen had cast some sort of magic on him. The thought sat oddly in his stomach, and he opened his mouth to begin the song again when a figure emerged from behind a tree 20 paces ahead on the trail. Covered in a heavy cloak with its hood drawn, the figure held a bow and arrow at ready, though lowered and not drawn. He stood shorter than Mitchell, though the recent Page did not allow that to get his guard down. He was elated at first, seeing someone that clearly was not a part of their group, but the clearly hostile demeanour soured that emotion quickly. Were they protecting their own territory? Ambushing travelle- ¡°Oi! You best not be thinking to use that bow on us or Mitch¡¯ll cave your skull in!¡± Mitchell started at Sarah¡¯s proclamation. The figure called back. ¡°We have your friend back at our camp. We know you¡¯re a healer - heal one of us, and you all go free.¡± Sarah looked over at him, her nerves betrayed on her face. Mitchell couldn¡¯t find it in himself to really care all that much. He¡¯d been through hell, he¡¯d figured he¡¯d never get out of that dungeon - now all he wanted to do was get back and curl up with Miriam. ¡°Up to you, but he¡¯s full of shit about having one of our people. Guaranteed.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you willing to bet on that? Bet Miriam¡¯s life, potentially?¡± ¡°Yep. Should I tell you what my new Analyze does or will you trust me for now? They do really need healing.¡± Human - Low Level, F-grade Disposition: Desperate, Afraid Sarah hummed. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s see what they need.¡± She called out to the waiting figure. ¡°We don¡¯t believe you have any of our friends, however I am willing to heal in exchange for trade!¡± Mitchell raised an eyebrow at her incredulously. ¡°Trade? Trading what?¡± She shushed him, waiting for the figure''s response. ¡°What do you want?¡± They eventually spat out, and from the low voice Mitchell placed it as a him. ¡°Your name, for one!¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you jus- ugh, fine! My name¡¯s Ezekiel. Just a tip: you can get names though Analyze, Sarah.¡± Sarah glowered. ¡°Well I was taught when you meet someone, you introduce yourself. My name is Sarah, and this here is Mitchell. If you don¡¯t mind, Ezekiel, we¡¯ve had a really rough day, so I want to get back before night falls and I need to spend another night out here. How about I come drop some of my healing magic on whoever needs it, and we¡¯ll give you directions to our camp? Then you can come by and pay me back.¡± ¡°Deal!¡± Ezekiel shouted, losing control of his volume for a brief moment before clearing his throat. ¡°Ahem. You have a deal. This way.¡± ¡°Good choice.¡± A voice said from up in the trees, and Mitchells heart stuttered. ¡°George?! Is that you?!¡± Sarah all but screamed into the canopy, and the mentioned ranger was soon visible as his feet tapped against tree branches on his way down, bow held drawn at Ezekiel the whole time. He hit the ground with a slight bending of his knees, but didn¡¯t take his eye off the other archer. ¡°Yep. Just so you guys know, the reason they got injured is because they attacked our camp.¡± He muttered under his breath. Ezekiel flinched at George''s appearance, and tilted part of his body behind a nearby trunk. Mitchells entire mind focussed. ¡°John and Miri. They alright?¡± George nodded. ¡°Miriam¡¯s a little shaken up, and John¡¯s acting dour, but he got a cool class in the fight. Got a secondary, too, though it was a bit aft-¡± ¡°Boys, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to get home before sunset.¡± Sarah reminded them, to which George shrugged. ¡°Sun rose not more than two hours ago, so I think you¡¯re fine. Hey Ezekiel! Lead us on back to your camp. Just know two things: First, I already know the way. Second, we still have Singh, and John¡¯ll be removing a finger for every hour after dark that I¡¯m not back for. So lets make this quick and above board, yea?¡± ¡°He¡¯s alive? I figured since you had his sword¡­¡± George looked down to where the rapier hung from his waist. ¡°Oh, yea, I suppose I do. Yes, he¡¯s alive, but if he keeps up the singing then we¡¯ll probably just kick him out into the woods next time a bear shows up.¡± Ezekiel bit back a laugh, and looked horrified at his reaction. ¡°But he¡¯s alive?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± George answered lazily, bow still drawn. ¡°George.¡± Mitchell said, putting his hand on the ranger''s shoulder. ¡°I think he gets it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think he does. He still hasn¡¯t put down his weapon.¡± Ezekiel immediately slung the bow back over his shoulder. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s not systemized, so I¡¯m trying to keep it as clean as possible. You guys can take the quiver though. I use it to trade-¡± ¡°Mana for arrows?¡± George finished. ¡°Yea, how¡¯d- Are you an Archer too?¡± ¡°Nope. Ranger.¡± George gestured to a branch above the Archer, where a silent black form waited, staring down with hunger in its eyes. Nimbus sat quietly, piercing yellow eyes watching Ezekiel avidly. Mitchell let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn, he¡¯s getting bigger.¡± It was true. Where before he was the size of a housecat, now Nimbus stretched long. Closer to one of those Savannah cats than the domestic longhair he was. He still looked the same, though, impossible to see his body beneath the poofy fur. ¡°Levels on levels, dude. This System is nuts.¡± Ezekiel fidgeted. ¡°Look, can we hurry? I don¡¯t know how much longer Kyla¡¯s got.¡± Mitchell got an urge, and acted on it. ¡°Keep your weapons. More important to get to healing.¡± George balked. ¡°You serious? He tried¡­ Well. Kyla tried to kill John! And Singh went after Miriam.¡± ¡°Is John dead?¡± Mitchell ground out. ¡°No, I already told you everyone is fine.¡± ¡°Then why the hell does it matter? What were you even fighting over?¡± ¡°They wanted our wall.¡± ¡°Not much of a wall, shoulda just gave it to them¡­¡± Sarah muttered. ¡°And did you even consider that they also must have been fighting off the wildlife?!¡± Mitchell¡¯s anger flooded through him. He couldn¡¯t believe this. He¡¯d known that humans could disappoint but this¡­ Everything in his class, all the knowledge in his mind said that they had to do better. They had to prepare, and they couldn¡¯t do that fighting each other. ¡°You know what? This is stupid. Ezekiel!¡± ¡°You guys done your chat?¡± The archer asked sarcastically. ¡°Shut up and lead us to your camp.¡± Mitchell ground out, deep breaths heaving his body. Something about his new combat proficiency mixed with the experience down in the dungeon allowed Mitchell to push past the tension. ¡°I do-¡± The archer started, but Mitchell was having none of it. He wanted to see Miriam again. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like someone leading us to their camp.¡± Mitchell intoned as he began stepping forwards. The archer baulked, and scurried into the brush, not too far to vanish but enough to lead. ¡°Finally.¡± Sarah muttered. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d be more enthusiastic about healing.¡± Nimbus hopped down from his branch as they walked underneath, and rubbed up against her leg. A quick scritch of his head, and Sarah found herself surrounded with a golden light. George scoffed, but didn¡¯t say anything more as Sarah excitedly told everyone nearby about her new Animal Handler class, and the first non-Mastery skill that anyone in the group had gotten: Animal Empathy. Mitchell was just happy it wasn¡¯t ants.
Kyla was unconscious, so the healing went fairly smoothly, even if Sarah had to stop and regenerate before she was finished. An Adrenal Response would wake her right up, but Sarah figured it would be better to let her wake up naturally. Ezekiel had offered some nuts and berries for lunch, but the group had declined. They clearly needed the food more. The camp wasn¡¯t much more than a half built lean-to and a pitiful collection of stones denoting the firepit. A stench permeated the area. Sarah recommended that they dig a latrine further from camp and go to the stream to stay clean, then the trio left the pair behind, making their own way to the ruined mill. With George leading the way, it wasn¡¯t long before they came across a towering, wooden wall. The wall was 20 feet tall, made of sharpened trunks reaching towards the sky. In between the trunks moss packed the spaces tight, and Mitchell saw that it dripped with water as if it had been soaked. He smiled. This was good progress. George scaled the wall easily, with Nimbus scrabbling over the top behind him. He called out behind him. ¡°Go around to the right side, there¡¯s a gate!¡± Shouting back his affirmative, Mitchell began jogging around the fortification, Sarah right behind him. Part of him was nervous - after all, hadn¡¯t he just abandoned his friends to go and get a class? Now that he had one, the idea was stupid. He should¡¯ve gone out with one of the classed people, let them watch his back so he could be relatively safe in combat. Not dove head-first into a meat-grinder. If anyone other than Sarah had followed him, he wagered they¡¯d have both died. But he wasn¡¯t dead, food for thousands of giant ants, nor was he coming back with terrible news. No, he was coming back a Page of the March and as they moved around the wall, Mitchells hunched shoulders straightened in pride. That lasted until they neared the ¡®gate¡¯, a series of sharpened branches stuck into the ground in scattered bunches, making Mitchell have to walk carefully through the path to avoid getting stuck in. There was no dignified way to scoot between pointy sticks. Then he saw Miriam, dirty from construction, and all thoughts of pride and dignity fled, as did his grip on the chest he was carrying. The chest thudded to the ground, forgotten. Comments from his friends blurred in his ears, and he missed John holding up a hand for a high five. His eyes found one thing, and he did not stop until it was his. Mitchell sprinted over and wrapped her up in his arms, ignoring the muffled voice of protest. His body vibrated with shaking gasps as the sheer weight of everything he¡¯d gone through finally sunk in. He buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her amidst the dirt and sweat. Miriam¡¯s arms came around him hesitant at first, then tightened, her fingers threading through his hair. "Mitchell, it''s okay. You''re safe now," she whispered, her voice soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. She wanted to ask about his hand, but that could wait. He clung to her as if she were a lifeline, his body shaking uncontrollably. Tears he hadn¡¯t realised he was holding back spilled down his cheeks, dampening her shirt. Miriam¡¯s own eyes glistened with unshed tears as she held him, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It''s over," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You''re here, with me. We''re together." Mitchell''s grip loosened slightly, but he didn¡¯t let go. He couldn''t. The reality of their situation crashed over him in waves¡ªeverything they¡¯d survived, the dangers they¡¯d faced, the loss and pain and blood - the friends? Allies? Miriam pried herself out of the embrace just enough to take one of his arms over her shoulder and begin leading him towards the river. She guided him gently, her steps steady and sure despite the exhaustion etched into her features. "Come on, let¡¯s get you cleaned up," she said softly, her voice a mixture of firmness and tenderness. "You need to wash away all this." He nodded weakly, allowing her to lead him, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. The river''s cool, rushing water came into view, a small sanctuary of calm amidst the chaos of their lives. As they reached the water''s edge, Miriam helped him down to his knees. She cupped her hands and brought water to his face, wiping away the grime and the tears. He shuddered at the coolness, but it was refreshing, grounding him back to the present. ¡°First thing, we get you washed up.¡± She murmured, her previous anger at him well hidden. ¡°Then some food, then you can sleep. We can talk in the morning, my love, you¡¯re safe now.¡± Mitchell shook with quiet sobs, and both Sarah and John felt uncomfortable watching and so moved further away. They were still in view, but not close enough to eavesdrop. Sarah continued staring down John, who was staring her down in return. Mitchell deserved some rest, as much as she¡¯d helped it was his incessant pushing forwards that got them through. She could only imagine the mental toll that living in the shadow of death for so long would cost. She gestured at John¡¯s outfit, eager for normalcy. ¡°Nice suit.¡± John shrugged, the plate armour rattling. ¡°Best we¡¯ve got. I¡¯d prefer something a little lighter. Seems like Mitchell had a rough time.¡± ¡°He did. I was exhausted. He was exhausted and had burns covering over 50% of his body. Twice. The second time I¡¯d have said closer to 80%.¡± John¡¯s face paled. He vaguely remembered being burned when he was tripped as a kid and landed on a barbeque. The recovery was almost as painful as the burn itself. Imagining that across his entire body - he felt a nausea develop in his stomach. ¡°Good thing he had you there.¡± She scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s right. It was only me. All of us saw how he was acting, and I know you saw me leave just after he did. Nobody else thought that letting him go out alone was a bad idea?¡± ¡°We¡­ Well, we got attacked too!¡± ¡°George told me. That was well after we left, though. Please, don¡¯t get me wrong - I¡¯m sorry that happened to you, and I wish I was here to help. But that¡¯s a separate issue. Why didn¡¯t you follow me?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t have a class either, Sarah! As it stands, between Mitch, Miri, and you, you don¡¯t even have your secondary classes! How are you going to get any stats?¡± Sarah grumbled. ¡°I do too have my secondary, I¡¯m an Animal Handler.¡± ¡°Okay fine, then at least you have something.¡± ¡°Yep. Came with brushes, barding, hoof picks, you name it. But still, John¡­ Mitchell went out there with literally nothing other than his own gear. I couldn¡¯t let him go alone.¡± John sighed, wiping his hand across his face. ¡°I know! I know¡­ It was just hard. We didn¡¯t know what happened. I¡¯d figured you¡¯d go talk to him then come back.¡± Sarah sighed, her instincts telling her that John was honest with her. ¡°In a way, I did. It just took a while.¡± ¡°Well, you heard about our issue while you were gone?¡± Sarah coyly smiled. ¡°Oh, of course. Y¡¯know, George told me something on the way back. Something about your class chest and a certain leather garment? From what Mitchell said, the plate will suit him better.¡± John flushed, gesturing towards the gate and the dropped chest. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s pants in there for me?¡± Sarah looked around, realising that the dungeon chest was dropped as soon as Mitchell saw his fiance. She sighed. ¡°Go get it then, I- whoa.¡± John grinned, holding the chest easily over one shoulder. ¡°What were you saying?¡± ¡°Build us a house with a door that locks. Immediately.¡± Sarah said, her eyes locking on John¡¯s bulging biceps visible even through the chain under-layer of the armour. With a wink, he set down the chest and told her about his secondary class, and soon Sarah was breathing deeply to keep herself calm. Her dream of a house built by her man''s hands looked to be coming sooner than she thought. Then John dropped the ornate furniture and opened the lid and a crystal floated out of the container, hovering at chest height. The crystal was a pale green and carved into a diamond shape. A pop-up came into her vision as Sarah examined it, thoughts of hunky lumberjacks tossed aside quite quickly. Settlement Stone (Untethered|Unique) Grade F Must be used by rewardee. Conditions: Settlement must have at least three (3) functioning structures Settlement must have a population of at least five (5). Settlement must have access to two (2) or more Basic Resources Settlement must have at least one (1) rare class among its population. Conditions Met! Secondary Requirements: Settlement is within range of Regional Capital (Not met) Settlement is within range of one(1) or more dungeons (Met) Settlement is above a subterranean settlement (Not Met) Settlement is below an aerial settlement (Not Met) Settlement is %&$##_X a Celestial settlement (Not Met) Settlement has a Very Rare Class citizen (Met x 2) Location eligible for upgrade to Basic Settlement - F3! To obtain secondary permutations, Settlement must be created by VR Class citizen. To remove secondary permutations, activate with a Rare-or-lower class citizen after clearing the local dungeon. Tether Settlement Stone? (YES|NO) 13. Settling Down ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± Mitchell said again, his throat¡¯s rawness already healing up. He wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that - the feeling helped, and he almost wished it would heal slower so he could use it as a distraction. Even so, in the dim light of the early morning, with the water of the river burbling gently along, he was finding it difficult to feel anything other than peace. He knew objectively that he had been through a terrible, terrible ordeal, yet here he knew he was safe and had people to watch his back. Further, now he could contribute and not be left behind. It was bittersweet. ¡°I know.¡± Miriam replied softly. She was also uneasy - Mitchell was typically her rock, her safe place to land. To know that he¡¯d essentially walked into the forest to die¡­ Her breath caught, and she blinked the starts of tears from her eyes. It would do no good to think of what could have been. ¡°Even so, you should have told me.¡± Mitchell nodded in agreement. ¡°I should¡¯ve.¡± The pair sat quietly on the banks of the river for a moment, until Mitchell spoke his mind. ¡°I thought I was holding us back.¡± He began. ¡°You know me. You know I have some¡­ less than popular takes. It was hard to see a way forward that didn¡¯t involve charity.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with charity, Mitchell?¡± Sarah rubbed sleep from her eyes as she strolled over. Miriam looked up in surprise. She wouldn¡¯t have thought anyone else as early a riser as Mitchell was. Even she wasn¡¯t one to be up at the crack of dawn, but given the circumstances she didn¡¯t want him to be alone. ¡°Huh, you¡¯re up early.¡± ¡°Dreams,¡± Sarah waved off, looking expectantly at Mitchell for his answer. ¡°Plenty. Even beyond the mess that charities were in the Before, the very concept doesn¡¯t sit well with me. It¡¯s an active suppression of natural selection. It¡¯s part of why so many kids are being born with terrible issues, being consigned to a life of suffering just because some bleeding heart couldn¡¯t make the tough call.¡± Sarah glared at him. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re advocating for the killing of babies with problems.¡± ¡°No! Really? Killing babies?¡± Mitchell fell back and sighed, running his hands through his hair. Then he did it again, just because he could. ¡°I¡¯m not saying we kill off the babies, but maybe don¡¯t subsidise people with genetic issues into being able to pass on those genetic issues. Like, for a minor example, my mum had psoriasis. I had psoriasis - until I hit my class, at least. Psoriasis could be just some itch, or it could penetrate deep and cause debilitating arthritis. Sure, I wouldn¡¯t have been born if my mother couldn¡¯t have kids, but I¡¯m not so selfish to consider that a bad thing.¡± Miriam frowned, having heard this before, but Sarah was paying avid attention. ¡°Really. You don¡¯t believe in medicine, is that it? Or is it just reproductive rights?¡± ¡°Not- It¡¯s more complicated than that! Stop boiling my views down. I could do the same to you and make you sound bad.¡± ¡°Oh really? So when I say I want to do my best to ensure everyone around me is happy and healthy?¡± ¡°Would you consider the average mood of someone with that brittle bone disease happy and healthy?¡± ¡°That depends on their support group.¡± ¡°Charity. What about broke meth addicts who can¡¯t afford a re-up?¡± ¡°Safe consumption sites.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t even start on those, but also charity. What about the old and infirm who can¡¯t last a week without some procedure or another? Are they happy and healthy?¡± ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, that¡¯s not even medic-¡± ¡°Charity! If you want happiness and healthiness, why allow the sad and sick to even exist? If you can¡¯t ¡®fix¡¯ them, what do you do?¡± ¡°I keep working!¡± Sarah shot back. ¡°That¡¯s where we differ. You seem to think that there¡¯s problems that can¡¯t be fixed.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I think that until we can fix it, patching it in a way that expands the issue is the most idiotic tactic, but we can¡¯t see that because the problem is people and we have empathy.¡± Sarah frowned, and Mitchell continued. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m saying that since there¡¯s no cure for cancer, let them die. It¡¯s things like psoriasis which is genetic and nobody stopped my mother from bringing three more diseased people into this world. If we have kids-¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± Miriam finally barged back into the conversation. ¡°If we have kids? Would you like to talk about that statement, Mitchell, or are you going to keep arguing philosophy?¡± Mitchell whirled about on her. ¡°It¡¯s not arguing I just need to be sure she doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m some crazy sociopath who¡¯s going to murder anyone who gets a cold! Why are you laughing?¡± Sarah shook her head, doing her best to stifle it. ¡°You know, it¡¯s really not a stretch to say that I could cure most diseases. Easily, too.¡± Mitchell sputtered, and Miriam went to go shove her fiance into the water for being silly. With a grin on his face, he whirled about in time to grab her sleeve, and even as she toppled over after him, she couldn¡¯t help but give a mental sigh of relief. At least he was smiling again.
It was at least an hour before George got up and crawled out of the mill, and an hour after that before he returned from the forest with a pair of rabbits to cook up for breakfast. A third hour passed before John returned to the camp, to confused questions. He carried a pair of tree trunks that he dropped beside the river, then lumbered over to the growing camp they had set. Between John¡¯s carpentry and George''s cooking, they were starting to build some aspects of comfort. Crude wooden benches surrounded the firepit, and a frame around the pit allowed George to slowly roast the rabbits on a pair of spits he¡¯d crafted from wood. The hunter was engrossed in his cooking, and let out a quiet cheer when he got himself his next level, bringing his race level to 7. John waited until they were all sat around eating food, before he spoke. ¡°We have a decision to make.¡± Sarah continued, her voice curt. ¡°We opened the chest last night. Mitch, this is yours.¡± With an underhand toss, she threw a piece of jewellery at him. Not wanting to make a fool of himself, Mitchell inspected it. Pendant of Health and Sustenance Disposition: Not available Mitchell sighed. ¡°Can someone Analyse this for me? My upgrade sucks.¡± ¡°10% boost to total health and rate of healing.¡± Miriam offered before anyone else. ¡°It can also let you go for longer without food.¡± Mitchell looked once more at the chain. It was a basic silver chain with a small, heart-shaped pendant embedded with a small ruby. He shrugged, and slipped it over his neck. The change felt minor, but he couldn¡¯t pin down exactly what it was. ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± George asked, excited. ¡°Not you. You already got a sword.¡± John pointed. ¡°Yea, and you got armour.¡± ¡°Actually, that¡¯s going to Mitchell as well.¡± Sarah answered easily. ¡°John and I were talking, and we think his class is more suited towards being the ¡®tank¡¯ type than John¡¯s is. Besides, he¡¯s already got armour. I got these, though!¡± John and Sarah both analysed the item, and then Sarah held them up for everyone to see. ¡°One sec¡­ There.¡± John muttered as he poked through his screens. It was a pair of gauntlets that shone with an odd, red light. They caught the light in an almost iridescent way, shimmers of ruby crawling across the black chitin. The impressive thing was the small window that appeared above it, showing much more than Mitchell¡¯s Intuit skill could grasp. Chitinscald Gauntlets Requires Vitality of 12 to wield. Invoke to cast the spell Flame Spray without utilising arrays or materials. Damage and range scale with Vitality. ¡°It¡¯s short ranged, and recharges every 5 minutes or so, but it gives me damage to deal where I didn¡¯t have it before.¡± The centurion described his ¡®Briefing¡¯ skill, saying that he could share analysis in aggregate with his allies, so all of their analysis would be useful in creating a greater picture. In regards to the items, nobody had an issue with the distribution and so they moved on. John pulled the chest into the middle of the group, and kicked open the lid, revealing piles and piles of wooden discs, each etched with a small, triangular symbol. F-grade coins (500) But Mitchell¡¯s attention was drawn to the small crystal that hovered its way out of the box, drifting up to his eye level. It might have been his imagination, but was it floating towards him? Without thinking, he analysed it. Settlement Stone (Untethered|Unique) Grade F Must be used by rewardee. Conditions: Settlement must have at least three (3) functioning structures Settlement must have a population of at least five (5). Settlement must have access to two (2) or more Basic Resources Settlement must have at least one (1) rare class among its population. Conditions Met! Secondary Requirements: Settlement is within range of Regional Capital (Not met) Settlement is within range of one(1) or more dungeons (Met) Settlement is above a subterranean settlement (Not Met) Settlement is below an aerial settlement (Not Met) Settlement is %&$##_X a Celestial settlement (Not Met) Settlement has a Very Rare Class citizen (Met x 2) Location eligible for upgrade to Basic Settlement - F3! To obtain secondary permutations, Settlement must be created by VR Class citizen. To remove secondary permutations, activate with a Rare-or-lower class citizen after clearing the local dungeon. Tether Settlement Stone? (YES|NO) Mitchell accepted the offer, and the scene around him froze. The fire paused in its chaotic licks to the sky, the river''s motion ceased - briefly, Mitchell recalled that any stopped body of water would require an absurd amount of power, as it contained more force than expected, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He briefly panicked when he tried to turn his head and it didn¡¯t work, but another pop-up soothed his rapidly panicking heart. Tutorial paused during Settlement Creation. Primary prerequisites met! Secondary prerequisites partially met! Tertiary prerequisites pending! Settlement Level Up! Settlement Level Up! Parameters must be set at activation of Settlement Stone. Levels will be delayed until Settlement is established. Please set your Settlement¡¯s basic political system: -Dictatorship -Democracy -Socialism Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. -Monarchy ¡®Well, at least that one¡¯s easy.¡¯ He selected Dictatorship, reasoning that one strong leader was necessary for now. Democracy was just a popularity contest, and if people came to a settlement with enough supporters, they could lose everything. Maybe once their settlement was established, they could let people with actual ties to the settlement vote, but for now, he would have one leader. Not one with any sort of familial ties, which was why he didn¡¯t bother with monarchy. Please set your Settlement¡¯s Core Cultural Value: -Earth Derived (May recreate an existing culture from previous home planet) -Core Group (Culture is based on the actions and decrees of the Core Group) -Core Values (Culture is based around a document created upon inception of Settlement) -Valueless (No unifying cultural aspect) For a brief moment, Mitchell considered, but quickly dismissed the idea of rebuilding an old country. It¡¯s not like he was some sort of political science student, or government employee. He was an IT worker. Given it was the most able to be changed later, he went with the Core Group. Then, whoever was in the core group could change the culture if they needed to. Please set your Settlement¡¯s interaction stance: -Isolationist -Expansionist -Cooperative -Hegemonic -Neutral -Defensive Now Mitchell had to think. He could easily write off isolation and defensive stances, as he knew his class would not abide by sitting and hiding in his own little corner of the world. Expansionist seemed like it could cause issues, if their neighbours- Mitchell stopped himself. Neighbours? They¡¯d met a grand total of one group, and that group had apparently tried to kill his own friends. What was hegemonic? Something to do with religion, he thought, so that was out. It was really between Neutral, Expansion, or Cooperation. Mitchell knew he wasn¡¯t the most diplomatic, but he chose Cooperative regardless, as it lead well towards advancing humanity. Please set your Settlement¡¯s Priorities in order from most important (1) to least important (7): Expansion Research Theocratic Works Magocratic Works Martial Prowess Quality of Life Economic Strength Diplomatic Prowess Mitchell was lost here, so he just did what he would have done back when he played games - make it for him, and hope people showed up.. With a sigh, he made his selections and got ready to tell his friends, but there was more: Please set your Settlement¡¯s Core Group Structure: -Homestead -Tribal -Council -Colony (N/A, requires other settlement with diplomatic ties) -Senate ¡®Homestead¡¯ Mitchell thought, ¡®works perfectly. I hope.¡¯ Please set your Settlement¡¯s Core Group and Roles: With a smile, Mitchell easily placed each of his friends and himself. Patriarch - Mitchell LeFleur Master Hunter - George Lopez Surgeon General - Sarah Forrest Master of Law and Order - John Forrest Master of Magic - Miriam Agnello Please set your settlement¡¯s Guard makeup. Connecting to Master of Law and Order¡­. Connected ¡°What the f- why is everyone sitting still? Why has the fire stopped? Wh- Mitchell? Damnit, did you activate it?¡± Mitchell blinked. That sound wasn¡¯t coming from John, it was more like it was coming from the screen. In his peripheral, John still seemed frozen. ¡°Sorry, busy, making a settlement. Congrats, you¡¯re the chief of police.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have police.¡± ¡°Well, we might. So you¡¯re officially the Master of Law and Order. Enjoy.¡± ¡°So¡­ why are we stuck?¡± Please set your settlement¡¯s Guard makeup. ¡°Oh! I get to choose our guards? Hmm.. Full time, part time, or militia?¡± ¡°I mean, full time would be best, I just don¡¯t know how much-¡± Mitchell thought out loud. ¡°Nope. We need income to offset wages with, and I¡¯m getting told we have no sources of income. Part time is out too, so I¡¯m plugging in the militia option, cool?¡± ¡°Uh, sure? Where did you see all that?¡± ¡°Looks like I get my own Settlement screens. Oh, if it¡¯s not too late, go from Dictatorship to Monarchy. You can switch it later, and you don¡¯t actually have to have it be descendant based. Dictatorship reduces immigration by 1 until you offset it with Deeds, and we only get one immigration to start with. So - militia. Do you approve?¡± Mitchell tried to go back, but the screen still stared into his face, unchanging. ¡°Yea, I guess?¡± Guard Makeup - Militia Please set your Settlement¡¯s immigration options. ¡°John, do your screens say- Oh. He¡¯s gone. Uhh..¡± Mitchell paused for a moment, suddenly regretting his decisions to fly through the creation process, especially considering the array of numbers before him, complete with sliding scales and pie charts. Mitchell swallowed, and dove into it. It turned out to be a bit easier to understand than he had expected. As a level one settlement, their location gained about 1 xp per day. Every 100 population would increase that xp by one. At higher levels, that number was greater, but until they had a hundred people - and wouldn¡¯t THAT be weird - they would keep their 1 xp per day. Or however much a level three settlement got. For each xp they got, there was progress towards convincing the next immigrant to come to their settlement. As he moved the sliders and toggled options, Mitchell pieced out two things: Firstly, Immigrants were categorised. They were either skilled, semi-skilled, or unskilled. Skilled workers had a relevant crafting class that was levelled at least to the settlements level, at minimum. Semi-skilled workers had a modest class, and so were gaining stats that allowed them to perform work unrelated to their class. This meant that in a village with lots of clay, a potter would be considered a skilled worker, but in a dry, mountainous village, they would only be considered semi-skilled. Then finally were the peasants, or the unskilled. These only cost a single XP, so they could have a person showing up every day, but the new person would just be a drain on resources until they figured out something for them to do. Then there were various parameters he could choose from, like loyalty, heartiness, cultural compatibility, species deviation, or even directly recruiting for a specific skill, all of which would influence the gain rate of experience for the town. For now, Mitchell set it to start working on finding them a semi-skilled, loyal human who was fine with their culture. The screen flashed red for a brief moment, drawing his eyes to the bottom: Current gain rate: 1xp/day -Level One Settlement (1xp/day) Current Modifiers: -2xp/day -Loyal (-1xp/day) -Cultural Primer (-1xp/day) Current Cost: Base (Semi-skilled): 1xp/day Modifiers: -2xp/day Surplus gain rate: -2xp/day INCOMPATIBLE Mitchell cursed. This would be absolutely fine once they hit level 3, which was already guaranteed by the System, but it wouldn¡¯t let him start in the negatives. What would even happen then? Would the settlement disappear? He didn¡¯t know, and a headache was starting to develop, so he swapped some parameters around until the system was happy. Current gain rate: 1xp/day Current immigration policy cost: 0.5xp/day Semi-skilled (1xp) x Monospecies (.5x) Surplus gain rate: .5xp/day COMPATIBLE Hopefully this could be changed later, Mitchell thought to himself, or else it would just be random humans showing up. He spared a brief thought for how it was going to actually happen. Would someone just show up at the gate every morning or something? It was interesting to think about. He locked in the setting and proceeded to the next. Due to lack of housing, level-up rewards are being automatically allocated towards Basic House (x5). Due to lack of suitable housing for a Patriarch, level-up rewards are being automatically allocated towards Basic House->Clan House Due to the existence of a higher-tier structure (Sturdy Wood Wall) in the settlement area, resources are refunded. 500 F-Coins added to Settlement Treasury. 50 coins are removed to bring the structure up to standards. Congratulations! For creating a settlement with the Homestead/Dictator combination, you have been granted the Aspiring Clan Leader secondary class! This class must be taken and retained in order to continue having ownership of the settlement. Please name your Settlement: Mitchell¡¯s headache was building, so he wasn¡¯t as imaginative as he could¡¯ve been. Settlement named! Your settlement will now be referred to as Old Mill Town. Building Options: Mitchell¡¯s headache was growing, so he backed out of the screen before choosing anything, and the world roared back to life. ¡°-splitting up these co- Whoa.¡± George was cut off by the sudden appearance of shade over their gathering point, which was odd considering the height of the sun in the sky. There was a new building in their clearing. Made from sturdy logs that matched their wall, this giant wood cabin could be better considered a lodge, or even a longhouse. Mosscovered stone acted as a foundation, making it look like the building had always been there, and a pair of solid slabs acted as barn doors on the side facing the river. The roof was half-logs covered in more moss, and small holes in the walls acted as windows. Small awnings covered the openings to keep the weather out, and the awnings could be put down to act as shutters. The lodge was easily double the size of the mill¡¯s ruins. Mitchell didn¡¯t take as close of a look as the others were. Mitchell was busy, being surrounded by a golden glow as his secondary class took hold. Muscles rippled and tightened, the world got just a bit clearer, and he felt a surge of energy run through him, as if he¡¯d just awoken from a long, restful sleep. Almost subconsciously, he let out a whoop that shattered the stunned silence. ¡°All hail the clan!¡± Mitchell announced boisterously, gesturing to the group. ¡°All hail the Clan¡¯s Core Group!¡± ¡°All hail- wait, clan? Whoa!¡± George gained that mid-distance stare, eyes flicking left to right, that showed he was checking out a menu. Soon, everyone but Mitchell was checking out their new ¡®Clan¡¯ menu. Leaving them to it, Mitchell went to go check out the new building. He imagined he would get some questions on choosing to create a dictatorship, but his reasoning was simple - in the currently evolving situation, speed of action was likely to become the order of progress. Democracy, when inflated, would be too slow to react to a situation. Monarchy could have worked, but he didn¡¯t want to immediately resume the class conflict that had threatened to erupt in the Before. Socialism was just¡­ no thanks. Maybe they could change to it when they could afford to do so, but right now they had no way to print money from out of nowhere to make it work. So, dictatorship. Besides, with his primary class gaining experience from pushing mankind forwards, he imagined it would be much easier for him to gain experience that way. He dove back into the Clan menu, swapping out the immigration policy to account for the 3 xp per day they were now receiving as a level three settlement. With that budget, Mitchell was able to get what he had originally wanted. Current Income: 6xp/day -Level Three Settlement (3xp/day) -Regional Capital (x2 xp/day) Current Modifiers: -4xp/day -Loyal (-1xp/day) -Cultural Primer (-1xp/day) -Hardy Folk (x2xp modifier cost) Current Cost: Base (Semi-skilled): 1xp per day Modified: 5xp per day Surplus gain rate: 1xp/day COMPATIBLE Well, the Regional Capital designation was new, even newer than the rest of it. Either way, they should have a loyal, hardy, and culturally compatible settler show up tomorrow. Or today. He really wasn¡¯t sure at this point, but that change to the immigration had covered the time he needed to walk to the doors of the clan house. He quickly went back into the menu and added the Monospecies trait, taking up his last surplus xp but ensuring whoever showed up would be human. With that done, he backed out of the immigration menu and started poking around the Clan menu, not wanting to explore the house without the rest of the group. Or clan, he supposed. The menu seemed very limited, but Mitchell could tell it would expand along with the settlement. There was a list of buildings, both existing and available for construction. There was a list of settlers, though it lacked anything beyond their name. It even had a small tab for prisoners, though he was unable to interact with it beyond seeing the list, the menu locked until a suitable building was created. A whistle pierced through his musing, and he closed down the menu to see John standing there in front of him. ¡°There you are. We going to check out our new digs anytime soon?¡± ¡°Our? This is the clan leaders house, bub.¡± Mitchell shot back with a wiggle of his eyebrows. ¡°I suppose, as a core member, you could be entitled to sleep within range of my glorious presence.¡± John scoffed half-heartedly and pushed past, pushing the heavy door open with ease and pausing in the doorway. ¡°Does this-¡± ¡°Remind you of vikings? Yep.¡± Miriam finished for him, coming up behind the two and pushing her way through. The house was dark inside, the only light being from the sunlight streaming through the open windows, but as the door opened further and their eyes adjusted, more of the structure became clear. There was a small, stone room at the start, complete with iron hooks on the walls. Mitchell designated this the mud room. Further in, cobbled stone took over as the main flooring, and with the size of the firepit, it was clear as to why. Shelves adorned the walls, and counters were tucked away, able to be pulled out when needed. A ladder against the back well led up into a loft, but well before that ladder was a section of raised stone, wide and looking over the main hall. He imagined that would be where the chief would sit during feasts, and to his delight it appeared there was more than enough room for all of them up there. Floating towards the back, in the centre of the raised platform was the Settlement Crystal, rotating slowly in space. In the dim light, it seemed dull. Miriam had made a beeline for the ladder as soon as her eyes adjusted enough to spot it. ¡°I mean, it would but there¡¯s multiple floors. I don¡¯t think they built vertically.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s derivative? Did I use that right?¡± John asked, and Sarah¡¯s voice responded from close by. ¡°Yes dear, but let¡¯s talk more in our room, which-¡± ¡°Dibs!¡± Miriam¡¯s voice called from upstairs. Sarah sighed. ¡°Is not the best one anymore. Come, John. We can¡¯t let George get the second best room.¡± ¡°What? Why not? I only feed us every day!¡± ¡°Do you want healing for that damaged ego?¡± Sarah called over her shoulder, and George grumbled as he made his way in. Mitchell shrugged, letting them explore the house while he got started on moving the small pile of firewood they¡¯d accumulated inside, and preparing the wood in the centre firepit. He didn¡¯t have enough. The long fireplace was at least 8 feet long and two wide, and stone brackets on each side supported a cast iron spit that hung over the empty pit. With the wood they had, he was only able to fill about half of the pit. John was checking out the storage shelves on the wall, humming in approval at the carpentry, and with him distracted, Mitchell¡¯s eyes lingered on the raised stone as he tried to envision the future. A loud thunk disturbed his musing, as John dropped a 10 foot log into the firepit, only the first few feet hanging over the recessed stone. He grinned at Mitchell¡¯s quizzical look. ¡°Well? What do you think?¡± ¡°Uhhh¡­ nice log?¡± John shook his head. ¡°Not just a log. Our first tradition - when we build a house, we hold a housewarming party.¡± He gestured at the log. ¡°Literally. I think once we get there, it will be important to welcome people.¡± Mitchell nodded, mentally sighing in relief. He had been worried about even forming a culture for the culturally primed immigrant to be primed on. Now he was just curious if he was wasting a whole xp of the budget on a pun. 14. Earning Home John awoke a happy man. The room was warm and dry, despite the pattering sounds of rain against the roof. The bed left a lot to be desired, being not much more than a wooden frame with a ratty blanket, but it was better than hard ground and no blanket. The best thing, though, was that it was a big enough bed to share with Sarah. The door didn¡¯t lock yet, but John knew enough about his friends to trust they would knock before entering. As he lay there in the dark, wondering if it would be too difficult to build a window, he thought about the settlement he was now a part of. Mitchell hadn¡¯t explained much the night before, just following Miriam into the master bedroom and closing the door tight. They did not emerge, so Sarah and John had taken one of the other suites on the top floor. George took the last one, though spent most of the night preparing venison for everyone to eat for dinner. With shelter figured out and food and water present, everyone was starting to get tired of eating nothing but meat. A farm of some sort would be needed in the long run, but maybe foraging could work for now. He adjusted his weight on the bed, not quite comfortable but Sarah¡¯s warmth beside him led him to the realisation that he didn¡¯t care all that much. In fact, knowing what he did, he imagined he¡¯d be able to make a better bed frame, though obviously finding or making some sort of mattress would be the next project he undertook. A knock on his door startled John from his thoughts, and he felt a brief pulse of irritation as Sarah stirred. She still needed to rest, to recover. Sighing, he rolled out of his bed with a creak and made for the door. His back twinged briefly, but the sensation quickly faded. Opening the door up just a slit, he squinted at the light coming from the main landing of the second floor. When his eyes adjusted, he looked down to see Miriam. ¡°Mitchell¡¯s calling a meeting downstairs.¡± She told him. ¡°Dress up and come on down.¡± ¡°Is everything okay?¡± She winced. ¡°Not really. We have breakfast, though, so don¡¯t dawdle.¡±
John and Sarah made their way downstairs into a smokey main hall. The sounds of pattering rain intensified. Mitchell sat on the bottom step of the raised stone platform, and Miriam leaned against a nearby support pillar. George was humming happily, a pot over the fire bubbling away with some grey, lumpy substance. John took a whiff. Oatmeal. ¡°No way, where¡¯d you get that? And a whole pot!¡± Mitchell gave a pained smile. ¡°All part of the meeting, which we¡¯ll start after breakfast is done. I don¡¯t want to distract George.¡± Sarah nudged his arm. ¡°He looks like he didn¡¯t sleep very well.¡± John took his own look, and the circles under the Page¡¯s eyes confirmed it, though he¡¯d bring it up later when they weren¡¯t all together. For now, he found a spot on the firepits rocks far away from the small fire they had going at the other end, and kept stretching out his muscles. The room was quiet, and Georges humming fell silent as he spooned out the oatmeal onto the plates of carved wood John had made the day before, during one of his breaks in making the wall. The plates didn¡¯t hold much, but they were missing a lot of the essentials for civilization, including spoons, so John just scooped it up with his fingers - after getting Sarah to disinfect them, of course. Soon only the crackle of the fire remained, and with a pang of guilt John tossed his dirty plate into the firepit. The rest of the group followed his lead without question, and the fire flared brightly for a moment. A loud pop caused a shift in movement out the corner of John¡¯s eye - it looked like Nimbus was making himself a nest in the rafters. A pad? A lair? Whatever it is that cats made. ¡°So. Welcome to the clan.¡± Mitchell began, and immediately a chorus of questions launched forth from the others. John held his tongue, and soon enough the room fell quiet again, Mitchell waiting patiently for the questions to stop. ¡°Yes, this is a dictatorship. Yes, I am technically in charge of this place, and legally, you all as well.¡± George scoffed. ¡°Legally? From what I saw, you essentially started your own nation. What legal code do we have?¡± Mitchell winced. ¡°Well.. the one I¡¯ll need to create before the Settlement can Evolve to the next Tier.¡± More questions started pouring out, and John had had enough. ¡°Quiet! Maybe if you let him finish, your questions will be answered.¡± The centurion caught Mitchell¡¯s nod of gratitude, returning a meaningful stare. Mitchell seemed to get it, because he gave a more reserved, subtle nod. ¡°Thank you, Master of Law and Order. Please, everybody - this may be a new¡­ whatever it is, but we should still try to act with some sense of decorum. If I am reading things right, we may soon become responsible for actual, human lives.¡± That put enough of a damper on the mood that he continued. ¡°Now. In case anyone didn¡¯t know - John, you are the Master of Law and Order. Sarah, you are our Surgeon General. George-¡± ¡°Lemme guess, Ranger of the Great Leader?¡± ¡°Master Hunter. Just so you know, that will also be a cover for hunting information. Spies and such.¡± George''s grin grew as Mitchell continued, jab at his government choice forgotten. ¡°Miriam, you¡¯ll be the equivalent of a court wizard. It¡¯s a combination of advisor, engineer, and bodyguard. I will be the Clan Patriarch. No, I¡¯m not your dad, nor are any of us related. The system seems to view you guys as branch families, and since I have all the settings set to not differentiate between main and branch families, there¡¯s no difference.¡± Mitchell waited for an interruption and was pleased when none came. ¡°Now, we will make all decisions as a group, and I think our first decision should be how we come to our decisions. Do we need a unanimous vote? Majority? Divvy things up and keep out of each others business? There¡¯s a lot of ways to do it, but I¡¯m personally of the opinion that voting is the way to go. Any thoughts?¡± Miriam stood off the pillar. ¡°Nope. I know already that you all voting for me to do some magic stuff is going to end up with me banging my head against the wall trying to create magic toilet paper. I reserve the right to veto decisions that effect magic.¡± ¡°Sarah¡¯s likely the same.¡± John started, looking down to his wife for confirmation. She looked up at him and nodded. ¡°Yea, and I¡¯d probably be the same for the police stuff. How about vote, veto powers to most affected, and then veto-overrule with unanimous decision?¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°As per the System, I¡¯ll still be able to overrule that over-rule, but I promise I won¡¯t use that unless we really need to. Consider it done! So, with the first order of business out of the way, I have a few more points. Firstly, the oatmeal. I apologise for choosing for everyone. Would someone like something else?¡± A beat passed before Sarah spoke. ¡°Could go for a latte.¡± Mitchell winced as George laughed. ¡°I told you,¡± the Hunter said, ¡°I told you they¡¯d ask for something you couldn¡¯t buy yet.¡± ¡°Buy?¡± John asked. Mitchell stood. ¡°Yes. One of the functions of an activated Settlement Crystal is access to what is called the System Store. So, this morning, I traded 5 F-grade coins for a sack of oats.¡± Miriam frowned. ¡°You managed to trade some wooden discs for food?¡± At this, he smiled and gestured to the chest still against the wall, which was now overflowing with the tokens. ¡°I think you should take a closer look at those coins. They¡¯re a bit more than they seem.¡± John joined the others in gathering around the chest, even as Mitchell continued talking. ¡°We have here 995 F-grade coins, or if we exchanged them it would be called 9E95F. Confusing, but it¡¯s like dollars and cents. 100 coins to make one of the next grade. You can¡¯t split them up, but you can fuse them together. We have 1 E-Coin in the bottom.¡± George held up a hand. ¡°Nope. Not gonna start dealing with algebra. The F ones can be franks, and the E¡¯s can be eur-¡± ¡°Electrum!¡± John shouted before George could make things boring, and like the Before. ¡°No fair if you get to name both.¡± George conceded the point. ¡°Oookay. Franks and electrum. 100 franks to an electrum. We can work with that.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°So the reason I called everyone to explain all of this is, besides for the dungeon coins which Sarah and I will split, our Settlement got a base amount of coins and I¡¯d like us to be aligned in how we want to spend them.¡± ¡°Well let me shop for some groceries first, and the rest of mine can go to the settlement.¡± Sarah waved off, returning to her seat but staring at the floating crystal. With her backing away, the others returned to the various places they were before around the room. ¡°That makes things a lot easier. My second purchase I made, after the oats, was a mattress and proper bedding. Cost me about 10 f-coi-¡± ¡°Franks!¡± Mitchell rolled his eyes at George. ¡°It cost me 10 franks for a queen size set including mattress, sheets, pillows. The awesome part is that it¡¯s Systemized, so the sheets will never go threadbare, and it''s all self cleaning. The mattress will last as long as any other F grade item - so a long damn time.¡± He walked over to one of the walls, where a tattered brown sheet hung against the wall. ¡°My final purchase, for 25 franks, was this.¡± With a flourish, Mitchell ripped the sheet off of the wall and behind it was a clear, crystal screen that reflected a pale blue in the light. Mitchell waited a moment, then gestured to the screen. Breakfast Gruel A mundane breakfast slop designed to fill the belly and not much else. ¡°I put that on there earlier, but it basically lets you put a screen up from your popups. For example-¡± Mitchell LeFluer Page of the March / Aspiring Clan Patriarch Human Level 8 HP - High MP- Low-Mid Stamina - High Upgrade Identify for more data¡­ processing request¡­ request granted by target. All details granted: Name: Mitchell Lefleur Race: Human Class: Page of the March 8 / Aspiring Clan Patriarch 8 Level: 8 HP: 155 MP: 64 SP: 125 STATS STR 28 FOR 33 AGI 13 REF 13 VIT 23 CON 23 INT 18 WIL 51 INS 17 CHA 26 Human Skills: Common Ancestor Duality of Man Species Progenitor Primary Class Skills: Weapon Mastery Secondary Class Skills: Settlement Management ¡°And that¡¯s me.¡± Mitchell said, hiding his nervousness at their reactions. ¡°Broken.¡± George muttered. ¡°Damn broken. I wanted to be first to 50. What does 50 Willpower even do?¡± ¡°It makes him even more stubborn.¡± Miriam groaned. John just shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m stronger, and you¡¯ve even got a level on me.¡± Sarah looked pointedly at Mitchell. ¡°Are you going to tell them about your class? Or should I?¡± The Page sighed. ¡°I was hoping it could be later, but now¡¯s a pretty good time for it. I¡¯ll just throw it up on the screen.¡± Congratulations! You have been granted a class for advancing your race to the fifth Mortal Level. Due to the nature of Human levelling, you are not given a choice, but one is given to you based on your actions and the Strings of Fate. You have been given the class: Page of the March. Page of the March (Very Rare Mortal Class) The Page of the March is a lower member of the trans-global order of Knights that follow the Tenets of the March. The March is a term used to describe the inevitable progress of sentient races, civilised or otherwise. By becoming a Page of the March, you agree to follow the Tenets to your best ability, and to act in the interests of the March at all times. Stat increases: +10 WIL, +6 STR, +6 FOR , +4 CON. +5 WIL, +3 STR, +3 FOR, +2 CON per level. You have gained the class skill: Weapon Mastery. ¡°Before anyone asks, no, I don¡¯t have a list of the tenets. I¡¯m trying to work them out, because I get a vague sense if I¡¯m about to do something contrary, and encouragement if I¡¯m doing what they say. Mildly concerning, but I already tested it this morning and I¡¯m not punished for disobeying, it just removes all chance for me to gain xp from the action.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. For Miriam, something finally clicked. Given her heritage, she¡¯d been baffled when he¡¯d chosen a dictatorship¡­ but¡­ ¡°So the settlement rules work with your class?¡± Mitchells eyes lit up. ¡°You caught that? Yes, I actually was level seven this morning. Both George and I got levels before anyone else was even up. Him, for cooking, whereas I got one of each, both for setting up this little brekkie-meet.¡± ¡°Yup. I got a new skill when I hit level 10, too. That¡¯s right, I got a skill out of cooking oatmeal. Let¡¯s just say our next meal will be of a¡­ higher standard.¡± John stood, going to make his way towards the door, when Mitchell raised his voice. ¡°John! Sorry if I¡¯m rambling on, but we¡¯re almost done. Only one item left on the menu.¡± John turned, and leaned against the wall beside the door. Something inside him was itching to get outside, to get to fighting and building and levelling. As much as his Strength was higher than Mitchell¡¯s, it was his highest stat, and it was well below his highest. ¡°Thank you, and Miri we can chat later about classes and politics and such, but right now I need to show you the reason I¡¯d bought this screen. As fun as it is showing off, there is an actual reason, and that reason is this. As the screen flickered into a new configuration of words, John¡¯s fists clenched and he whirled out the door, almost at a sprint. He¡¯d only read the first line of the quest, but it was enough. Settlement Initiation Quest: Defend your home! Difficulty: Medium Recommended Level: 10-15 Starts in: 000:00:01:22:35:15 You have created a place to grow in safety. Others wish to take what is yours. Stop them.
Two days. John let the wave of anger flow through him as the axe slammed against the base of the tree, wood fibres exploding outwards and bouncing off his skin and armour. He was too tough to be injured by such non-deliberate shrapnel, now. Two days until people would come to try and take what was his. Again. What about a wall makes people want to be inside it? Instantly, he knew. It was safe. It was an implied value. It was a community. It was human. Two days was all he had to fortify, and by all the gods that existed in this part of the universe, he would do more than anyone thought possible. Already a trench surrounded the wall, ready to be filled with stakes that George was even now sharpening. Mitchell had thought to send him out to secure food in case of siege, but with the System Store, they could survive for a long time if they needed to. The ¡®Patriarch¡¯ had also wanted to discuss the various buildings they could unlock for the battle, but after a quick glance at the list, John had disagreed on the urgency and gone to fortify. It didn¡¯t hurt that the wood fortifications slowly granted experience for both of his classes, and so he fell into a rhythm and worked away. That is until¡­ ¡°Hail!¡± An unfamiliar voice interrupted him mid swing, and the axe hit the tree at an off angle, cutting downwards but not cleaving through the whole trunk. John tamped down his frustration at someone interrupting his flow, and with a quick glance at the sky found he had been at it all morning. The sun was high above, the rain having stopped around an hour ago. The air was humid and hot, and John wiped the sweat from his brow before turning to the new arrival. It was a medieval peasant, it looked like. Dressed in dirty but thick clothes and with a pair of ratty shoes on, the peasant held a rope lead that fastened around the neck of a mule, who in turn was attached to a rickety cart. He wasn¡¯t tall, but muscle was clear on his underfed body. He had dark eyes, and dark hair surrounded a face John could easily see himself forgetting. ¡°Is this Ol¡¯ Mil¡¯Town?¡± The peasant asked. ¡°Heard there was opportunity to settle round here, so I up hiked on over. Y¡¯all have any need for a worker? I¡¯s was a warehouser, I¡¯s was, but I got a strong back and you won¡¯t hear me complain ¡®bout doin¡¯ sumtin¡¯ else.¡± The man had an easygoing way of speaking, and his words were earnest. John set his axe down, noticing the release of tension in the man''s shoulders. ¡°We got no room for shirkers, vagabonds, or malcontents. But, if you¡¯re none of those, you¡¯ll be welcome. We don¡¯t have much in the way of housing, so you¡¯d have to bunk in the main hall until we figure that out.¡± The man spit with a smile on his face. ¡°Beats sleeping under a cart, good sir. Do you know where I could find a Core Clansmen? Need to register with y¡¯all before I can get to work.¡± John slapped his hand against his pants in a half-hearted attempt to clean them, before extending it out for a handshake. ¡°John Forrester, Master of Law and Order. I¡¯m one of the five.¡± The man immediately dropped to his knees, pressing his face against the dirt. For a moment, he dragged down on the mule¡¯s lead, trying to get it to copy him, but the animal just looked dumbly at the nearby trees. ¡°Forgive the disrespect, Master! I meant no ¡®ffence, addressing you directly. This humble peasant begs for mercy!¡± John scrambled to grab the mans shoulder and drag him to his feet, but the effort was like trying to lift an entire car. ¡°Hey there, none of that now. Just a man, not nobody¡¯s master. Just in charge of a job, that¡¯s it.¡± The man stayed with his head pressed against the ground. ¡°I await my punishment.¡± ¡°Wha..?¡± John couldn¡¯t help but mutter, as he was unable to lift the peasant. Just to make sure, he pressed his hand against the semi-felled tree he¡¯d been working on and gave it a push, the snapping of wood and subsequent felling of the tree proving to him it wasn¡¯t his own Strength that was failing. ¡°Look, guy, what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°I was called Jack, Great and Merciful Master!¡± ¡°Quit that shit.¡± John growled out, starting to get upset that this guy wouldn¡¯t get up. ¡°We don¡¯t do that here. We don¡¯t bow or nothin¡¯, and we don¡¯t have any masters. Jack, yea? Get yourself together. I¡¯m more of a carpenter than I am a Clansman.¡± There was a pause, where the man was silent. ¡°I¡­ this isn¡¯t what I heard this place would be like.¡± That¡¯s when it clicked. ¡®Cultural Primer¡¯. This was part of Mitchell¡¯s choices with the immigration. ¡°You know of the Housewarming Ceremony?¡± ¡°Aye, and I even chose a nearby tree I¡¯d like to use for my own, if it pleases the Master.¡± ¡°What else do you know of our culture?¡± John asked. ¡°The Clan is great and powerful, and the Core Clan lead us all forwards into prosperity. I came prepared to simply work in the outer rings of the clan, or even as an aspirant.¡± Jack''s accent was slowly falling away, much to John¡¯s confusion. ¡°Alright.. So how would you treat someone of the same status?¡± ¡°As I did when I arrived. Please, Master, show mercy.¡± John eventually had enough of trying to hear him past his face being in the dirt. ¡°I will show mercy if you get up and look at me when I talk to you.¡± The man twitched, slowly rising to his feet. ¡°As you command.¡± John huffed. ¡°Good enough. Now. Since I doubt that Mitchell-¡± ¡°Hail to the Patriarch!¡± Jack shouted before resuming his listening. ¡°... sure, him. I doubt he set the rules behind,¡± John waved about without direction, ¡°whatever this is, let me set a couple things clear. First: What are the status tiers?¡± ¡°From my learning, there is the Core, the Inner Clan, the Outer Clan, and the Aspirants.¡± ¡°Cool. So, we¡¯re the core. The only ones who should ever even approach that level of deference would be an Aspirant making a egregious request that is genuinely likely to offend one or more Core members, and even then it¡¯s just to show deference to decision making, not to any sort of general superiority. Do you understand?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Jack bounced back and forth on his feet for a moment. ¡°What must I do to become an Outer Clan Member?¡± ¡°Uhh¡­ For now, just ask nicely, I think? We haven¡¯t gotten that far yet. I think Mitchell-¡± ¡°Hail to the Patriarch!¡± John groaned. ¡°Yes, him. He¡¯s in charge of this stuff, so let me just lead you through the gates and we¡¯ll go find him.¡± Jack¡¯s eyes went wide and he hurriedly brushed off his clothing as best he could, and John tuned him out when he started muttering things like ¡®unpresentable¡¯ and ¡®the turning point of my life¡¯. If Mitchell wanted to be a dictator, let him deal with dictating.
Miriam was having a hard time with helping. Curious as she was about the man and cart John had led into the gates, she turned back to her studies on the very underpinnings of reality. From the start, her heart had been set on mental magic - from the moment Singh had looked at her with murder in his eyes, despite having never met her¡­ She¡¯d felt vulnerable. Even more than that, the way he¡¯d toyed with them in combat had been terrible, and she would much rather have stopped it before it all happened. So, she was working on what she called the ¡®Calm¡¯ spell, but it was difficult. She could perform the spell easily on Mitchell, but as soon as she tried it on someone else the energy splashed off of them like rain off a rock. Given it was a complete spell, she was unable to find where the issue was, so right now it could only realistically be called a ¡®Calm Mitchell¡¯ spell. Useful, no doubt, but not what she needed. So she started from the ground up, scrapping the set of 12 arrays that made up the spell and starting anew with a targeting array, the common first step of most minor magics. Greater magics required a building of energy or a ¡®flavouring¡¯ as she called it, but her spells just added another array to take care of that step. So she added an amplification array right after the targeting array, but quickly scrapped that as her intuition told her that configuration would just lead to a multi-target spell. She started again, and again, and again, until she had an idea - why not adjust her currently working Calm spell? She pulled up the twelve arrays and located the one that adjusted the spell for the target, the most difficult one she¡¯d had to infuse into the spell. She could see the various identity glyphs she¡¯d had to spend hours of discrete testing to find, and wondered - if the spell already targeted someone, why couldn¡¯t she add those tests to the spell structure itself? Writing it up, she ended up with a 48 array spell that would cost half again over her maximum mana to cast. Not wanting to drop into a coma, she stored the spell into the pages of her tome and stood to stretch. Too long studying in one place on one topic tended to reduce its effectiveness, so she went to go get the update from John on what the new guy was all about. She also hadn¡¯t heard Singh in a while, but that was a relieving situation she wouldn¡¯t question too avidly. She caught him leaving the Clan House, looking incredibly frustrated. Upon seeing her, he just waved his hand towards the house. ¡°You¡¯d better make sure your boyfriend doesn¡¯t start something messed up.¡± Not bothering to respond, she hurried into the Clan House, her eyes adjusting to the low light after being outside, the overcast sky still having enough light to require adjustment. There was a low fire crackling in the longpit, despite the heat of the day outside, and Mitchell stood in his full gear at the head of the room, looking down on a kneeling man. ¡°You wish to join us?¡± He said in his best attempt at imperious will, and she had to admit it wasn¡¯t half bad. ¡°What do you have to offer?¡± ¡°I was a warehouser, Patriarch. I have a strong back, and can work long days.¡± Mitchell rubbed his beard. ¡°This place is not safe. We may need to have you doing things other than warehouse work. You may even be asked to raise arms against our enemies. However, if you join us, you can expect to perform honest work for honest pay. You can reside within our Clan¡¯s grounds until such time that an expansion for Outer members is made. Should you father a child within this time, that child will be eligible to become an Inner member. Should that child have their own child, that grandchild could potentially become a core member. Do you understand how one progresses in our clan, and vow to uphold your station and duties for so long as we require?¡± ¡°I do, Patriarch.¡± ¡°Do you vow to obey the lawful orders of the Core Council, both in letter and in spirit? Do you further vow to protect the interests of the Core Council, both explicit and implied?¡± Jack shuddered and if he didn¡¯t have a huge smile on his face, Miriam would have thought him under duress. ¡°Yes, Patriarch! I vow!¡± Mitchell clapped a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder, a short laugh coming from his lips. ¡°Then rise, Jack of the Houser Branch. May your service be long and fruitful and your fortunes vast. Go and see our Surgeon General, and she will check you over before we find you somewhere to sleep and some place to contribute.¡± Wordless but beaming, Jack rose and left the longhouse. Miriam waited where she stood until Mitchell gestured for her to come closer. She did so, as he pulled off the breastplate and unbelted the sword, leaning both up against the steps. ¡°Thanks for coming to see me.¡± She nodded, but then raised an eyebrow in question. Mitchell sighed. ¡°You should have seen the Clan menu during that. Almost as many options as the creation screen. I think for tomorrow, I¡¯m just gonna set it to a bunch of human peasants rather than skilled people. Numbers, I think, would help more than a single ex-warehouser.¡± Miriam sat down on the step beside him. ¡°When are we going to talk?¡± He looked at her out of the side of his eye. ¡°About what?¡± She scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Patriarch, maybe the fact that a few days ago you walked into the woods without telling anyone, and since you came back you¡¯ve been acting like it was an obvious solution to an obvious problem?¡± ¡°It was.¡± ¡°It was luck!¡± She shouted, before taking a quick breath to calm herself. ¡°You went out to die. Are you being serious right now? Missing a hand, probably infected, with no weapons. Should I point out any other way you were stupid? Oh that¡¯s right, Sarah told me what you were doing in the dungeon. Throwing away advantages to avoid getting an Ant Tamer class?¡± ¡°Oh come on, that would have sucked!¡± ¡°Less than leaving me alone? I was attacked while you were gone.¡± She said flatly. His features softened. ¡°I heard that it wasn¡¯t that bad.¡± ¡°From George? Of course he downplayed it. I¡¯d be dead if not for him.¡± She waited for a response but when none came she kept talking. ¡°I got cornered in the Mill, by Singh. He¡¯s still in there. He had this sword, and he was just so fast. I tried to hit him with my darts but it was hard to try and cast them at a person. Then he got me.¡± Her voice tightened. ¡°Slipped the sword right under my arm, and I knew I was done. Sarah taught me enough that I know there¡¯s a big vein there, and of course that¡¯s what he would be aiming for, he was too fast and too skilled - but he didn¡¯t.¡± Her heart started beating faster, and her eyes unfocused. ¡°He just¡­ cut. Into the meat. It barely bled, but right after that, he laughed, and I could see it in his eye. We were like mice being played with by a cat. He could have killed me at least 5 times before George made it in, but he didn¡¯t. He could have killed George, too, while we escaped, but he didn¡¯t. He just wanted to cause pain.¡± ¡°I-¡± ¡°I¡¯m alive because someone preferred torture to murder. George is alive because of the same. Singh is alive because John won¡¯t let us kill him - he says we can use the bastard against his party members, but I say they wouldn¡¯t piss on a fire to put him out.¡± Miriam grit her teeth, realising what she was about to ask. ¡°Get rid of him. If you¡¯re in charge, he tried to kill two of our Core members. How does our Clan respond to that?¡± Mitchells eyes flicked up and she could tell he¡¯d just gotten a screen. ¡°You know, you have the worst timing, right? Not this time, it¡¯s perfect this time, but I¡¯d like for us to go back to your experience later and talk about it more thoroughly. For now, come with me.¡±
George sat in the shade of the mill¡¯s ruins, lazily petting Nimbus who lounged just in his reach. His other hand rolled a pebble between his fingers, testing it, hefting it, checking its weight. It was a rough stone, and had a fleck of something that caught at the light. It was a nice pebble, he thought, better than the last one. ¡°You can¡¯t kee- ow.¡± George smiled smugly from where he sat, picking up a new pebble. Singh rubbed at his forehead with his bound hands, a new welt joining close to a dozen others that had been placed there over the morning. ¡°I can, and I will.¡± Singh huffed and sat back against the wall, doing his best to rub his bound wrists. It didn¡¯t last long, because as the two of them heard footsteps coming, they stood. George snarled at the prisoner. ¡°Don¡¯t know why you look happy. Only reason they¡¯d be coming is to-¡± ¡°George. Can you come out here? I need a favour.¡± The Ranger wiped his hands off on his pants. ¡°See ya, dead man.¡± Singh nodded his head. ¡°See ya.¡± Mitchell had brought over Miriam and John, the latter of whom kept looking back over to the wall. ¡°Miriam, could you go watch Singh please? We need to have a private word.¡± George joined John in giving the Page a dirty look. What was his problem, sending her in to watch over him when she¡¯d been the most affected by his attack? She didn¡¯t say a word, though, ducking into the mill with her wand held at the ready. ¡°Alright spill it.¡± John spat. Mitchell raised his hands placatingly. ¡°Hold up. John, you fought the others, the ones with Singh. Any of them you¡¯d let camp outside the walls, be a meat shield for the coming assault?¡± John frowned. ¡°I think if it¡¯s dangerous over a large area, they¡¯ll come asking for sanctuary, but if it''s focussed here, they¡¯d only come to try and get revenge during our distraction. Either way, my vote is still throwing Singh in the river.¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°Can¡¯t. They know we have him, and my class will punish me for killing another human. I¡¯m about bringing us all forward. Trade him, maybe?¡± ¡°That¡¯s human trafficking, and I¡¯m not doing that.¡± John answered. ¡°There¡¯s lines I won¡¯t cross.¡± George hummed and fixed Mitchell with a knowing stare. ¡°Alright, I see where you¡¯re going with this. I¡¯ll go conscript them, in exchange for Singh¡¯s ongoing safety or imminent danger, whichever gets them moving faster.¡± ¡°Thank you, George.¡± Mitchell answered. ¡°Normally I¡¯d say we¡¯re fine but¡­ as the time grows closer I start seeing what type of enemy we will face and we will need the help. If you have the time, range a little further afield, see if we can¡¯t find any more groups. John, can you make some militia weapons? Spears and javelins should be fine, have Jack help you if you need it.¡± He looked at the two of them as a flash of light came from inside the mill and Miriam left with a smug look on her face. Mitchell pointedly didn¡¯t glance her way - that light reminded him of her Flare spell, which didn''t do any damage. He figured a bright light wasn''t too excessive considering what the man had done to her. ¡°We live, or die, in the next 3 days. We can figure out the rest afterwards.¡± 15. The Line Three days passed in a flurry of preparation, training, and learning. In what felt like no time at all, a grey dawn rose on the third day and the System timer showed no more than an hour before the quest started. George had set a series of snare traps in the woods outside the wall, leaving only two safe approaches to the settlement. He¡¯d also spent time out in the woods, hunting with Nimbus and levelling up his classes. With bundles of arrows in strategic places around the wall, he was as ready as he could be, even if he still hadn¡¯t returned permanently. Even now, he was out ranging the surrounding forest. George Lopez Human (F) Ranger/Cook Level 11 Sarah had been healing everything she could over the past week, and had managed to level up as well. Spending some time each morning with the mule that had come with Jack, she got both of her classes some experience. As the group of largely illiterate peasants had arrived over the next couple of days, she¡¯d checked them over and healed a few long-standing ailments. Because of this, she was often the one that their Aspirants came to when they were in need. Sarah Forrest Human (F) Healer/Animal Handler Level 10 Miriam had secluded herself away in her room and emerged on the second morning with a triumphant smile, though she refused to tell anyone what she¡¯d created. That second day was spent going to each and every log in the wall and casting a spell on it that didn¡¯t appear to have any effect, at least until one tried to damage it - with the clang of ringing steel, even axes would bounce off the hard bark of the trees. Her second class came late, but not too late to be useful. Miriam Agnello Human (F) Arcane Acolyte/Enchanter Level 8 Mitchell had largely stayed within the clan house, coming each morning to meet the new arrivals and getting them set up in a growing camp by the downstream edge of the river. It wasn¡¯t much, but John had erected a small gazebo that was currently keeping the settlers belongings out of the weather, which had stayed overcast and grey and only just now began to spit rain. Beyond that, he¡¯d regularly bought and provided them with simple meals, and between that and the planning of the town, had gained his own small amount of experience. Mitchell LeFluer Human (F) Page of the March/Aspiring Clan Leader Level 10 John hadn¡¯t stopped working once. Wether he was fortifying the wall, finding coyotes to train his skills against, or building up a supply of gear, John didn¡¯t stop. He¡¯d begun training the settlers in the use of a spear, though it seemed they were less than proficient. They¡¯d be stationed by the clan house, along with Mitchell, to act as a final line of defence if anything slipped through the walls. He dug trenches around the wall, he built a scaffolding so George could shoot over the wall without being on the structure itself, and spent his nights carving away at planks and binding them into basic wooden shields. John Forrest Human (F) Centurion/Carpenter Apprentice Level 12 John had also accepted and started to wear his class armour, which he had to admit did show off his legs quite nicely. Mitchell was granted the plate armour, though he only wore that while training. The rest of the time was in the breastplate, and even John had to admit it looked more leader-like than a faceless man in full plate. Too soon, the morning had come, and the rain cast a pall on the growing group. John stepped out of the dryness of the Clan house and awaited the rest of their meagre population to trickle into the impromptu meeting area by the new gazebo. The peasants looked grim and miserable, though Jack stood with a straight back and a determined look in his eyes. Mitchell stood apart from the group and John sidled up to his left side, seeing the Page¡¯s shield and sword buckled on and breastplate polished. John slipped his own helm over his head, grateful that the design still kept his head dry despite the antiquity. Miriam and Sarah stood near the back, as discussed, to watch over the small group of 11 settlers. George was still gone dealing with the other camp and the outer defences. He¡¯d returned now and again to assist with the building, but largely had been out ranging. John and Mitchell shared a look, and then they began. ¡°Old Mill Town is under attack.¡± Mitchell declared, and the muttering in the crowd stopped. ¡°Our home, what little slice of peace we have carved out for ourselves, is under a terrible burden.¡± John continued. ¡°The core members have trained and prepared, and we have seen the effort of our clan. Jack, Gunther, Aleks, step forward and receive your commission!¡± The ex-warehouser and two other smaller but still strong looking men stepped forwards after a furtive, shared glance. They wore nothing in the way of armour, and carried nothing in the name of weapons. John kicked open the small trunk he had made for this occasion, and pulled out a nicked and slightly rusted but functional gladius sword. ¡°Jack! For your efforts in training and consistent push towards excellency, I award you with the title of Optio. Serve as my second, distinguish yourself well, and you shall be afforded the opportunity to join the Inner members of the Clan.¡± ¡°Yes, Centurion!¡± Jack shouted out with fervour as he fell to a knee with a hand clenched in a fist across his chest. A faint golden light surrounded him, and the Core members locked their gazes on him as one, even as John continued on. ¡°Gunther, Aleks! You have achieved the minimum standard required for me to call you Tiro, my recruits. I grant you the rights and responsibilities of Outer members. Serve underneath myself and my Optio, and further opportunity will open to you.¡± ¡°Yes Centurion!¡± The two shouted, dropping to their knees and saluting as well. As with Jack, faint golden glows surrounded them, and as one John bid them rise. He took a step forward, performed an about-face, and clasped his own fist against his chest, his recruits tall and saluting behind him.. ¡°We are few, but we stand ready to defend Old Mill Town, Patriarch!¡± Mitchell had insisted on this little bit of pageantry, even if there were only 3 that were sufficiently skilled enough to ensure they wouldn¡¯t do more harm than good. He cleared his throat, and returned their salute. ¡°Every tradition starts somewhere, at some time, for some reason. So I present this tradition to you now - stand, my warriors.¡± Mitchell moved forwards, a small bundle in his hands. ¡°I grant you food from my table, water from my well, and a coin from my purse. May these gifts aid you in the battle ahead, and in all your endeavours forever after.¡± He pressed this small package into John¡¯s hands, then retrieved a larger pouch from his belt. ¡°This is your reward, should you and your men return to us. Guard it well.¡± John had originally disagreed with the concept. This, right here, would be what caused the most desertion - but then, they realised that standard desertion did not really apply after the System hit. Now, John¡¯s Legio Primus stood ready and with a significant morale boost to the entire unit, something that John had said would fade slowly with time. So long as morale stayed up, deserters remained a caution, not a problem. John assured him that he had his own menus to track these things, and would bring it up if military morale became an issue. Thus, giving the soldiers their pay before the battle. It was a relatively paltry sum of 100 wooden F-grade coins split between all of them, but for these people who had come with nothing, it would kick-start trade and economy. Basic goods were available through the System Store, so in the time honoured tradition of soldiers everywhere, Mitchell fully expected at least some of their pay to go towards food and drink after the battle, and he would not blame them. ¡°Your faith is well placed, Patriarch. Men, to your stations!¡± John led his small group out to the first gate, the mud deep enough to dirty the soles of their shoes but steadily growing worse as the rain picked up. Mitchell smiled at the remaining people, the groups of peasants - Aspirants, now - who looked to him for security. ¡°Our time comes. In the next day, Old Mill Town will either fall as a fledgeling village, or endure and come through stronger on the other side of battle. We fight - not for glory, or honour, or gold, but for survival. This System wishes to test our mettle, to ensure we deserve this place. I say we show our worth, for our courage is not in question! In the coming hours, we will face adversity, and push through. We will face doubt, and darkness, and we will push through. When the mud is deep, the rain heavy, and blood leaks from your body, remember our creed - Another Step Forwards! We will push through!¡± A few scattered whoops came from the villagers, and Miriam gave some polite applause. Mitchells ears burned, but the effect was enough. ¡°Surgeon General, please organise the non-combatants into a support corps. Court Wizard, with me.¡± Mitchell turned into the rain and began walking back towards the clan house. Quick footfalls caught up to him, and Miriam waited until they were out of earshot before she spoke. ¡°Everything okay?¡± She asked, concern clear in her voice. ¡°I thought you did well.¡± Mitchell let out a choked laugh. ¡°I bloody hate speaking in front of crowds, and now I have to do it as part of both of my classes. Yea, I¡¯m just fine.¡± Miriam hummed in acknowledgement. ¡°Yes, but you didn¡¯t have to speak in the first place. I doubt the President of the US spoke to every squad before they defended every outpost. Even so, it was a good speech.¡± He sighed and pushed his way into the warm, dry house. ¡°I appreciate it.¡± He removed the breastplate and began walking up to their room. She followed. ¡°This is where we make our mark. It¡¯s less the President talking to the Army, and more Columbus addressing his crew, all misadventures aside. We¡¯re setting out on an endeavour unheard of in our history, and from my class, this System wants me at the forefront of the effort.¡± Miriam scoffed. ¡°Did you want to put that quest up on the board again? You don¡¯t know what the system wants, because we aren¡¯t even sure if it wants anything or even can want anything. Didn¡¯t you say yourself that your class was a result of the dungeon? Or how you acted or something like that?¡± He pushed his hand through his hair, and Miriam noticed as he smiled at the regrown appendage. ¡°Something like that.¡± She smiled as she watched him pull the many pieces of the plate armour out from under the bed. ¡°There you go. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.¡± Mitchell laughed, strapping the first pieces on. ¡°Stop? Besides the public speaking, I¡¯m loving it. Turns out, pressure does wonders for me.¡±
John looked over the edge of the wall, once again praising the thought of creating the scaffolding. The area around the wall had been dug with pits and trenches to slow attackers and funnel them towards the clear land of the northern and southern roads - or at least, where he planned to put roads and where trails were slowly coming into existence by their continued usage. The east was covered by the wall, and the west by the river, which was starting to flow faster than the calm burbling he¡¯d grown used to. All of which he could see from up on the admittedly rickety structure. Rain pattered down over his helmet, a light misting now but it had only grown in intensity since dawn. The smell of the rain was almost hidden beneath the smell of Jake¡¯s mule, but the dank sweetness was still present. The Centurion¡¯s eyes pierced through the rain, anxious to get a glimpse of what sort of attackers they would need to fight off. He was just lucky he had unlocked his next skill for his class when he hit the tenth level. The new Testudo skill would come in handy¡­ once he could give his men shields, that is. His attempts to make wooden shields had gone poorly, but just last night he¡¯d finally gone through enough to have the shields added to his list of Carpenter recipes. Schematics? Blueprints? The System called them recipes. As the timer ran out and the Quest screen changed, John looked to either side at the spear-wielding Tiros and his sword-and-shield bearing Optio and set his gaze on the information he was given. It didn¡¯t say much, but it said enough. Incoming Wave of Enemies! Wave 1: 10x Raccan Skirmisher ¡°Legion! Prepare to repel invaders! Optio, leave a man on watch here, then form up the men to depart for the north gate.¡± Jack looked at him oddly, but John didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Aleks, up on the tower, Gunther, you¡¯re with me and the Centurion.¡± The men didn¡¯t exactly leap to their tasks, John noted with disappointment, but they did shuffle to it. He would need more training sessions with them, not on fighting but on following orders. It was important, from what he knew of history, that the army act as a whole under one command. With Mitchell and Miriam at the clan house ready to repel any enemies they could see from their vantage over the south gate, George still outside the walls, and himself and the two men for the north gate, John realised very quickly that they were outnumbered. From the information he had, this would be the first and easiest encounter of the quest. ¡°Double time, men!¡± There was no time to waste. Boots splashed through mud, rain fell in spattering sheets, and John pushed for the north gate, running through troop numbers quickly in his head. Even if the skirmishers split their attention evenly between the northern and southern gates, it would still come to a 5 versus three at his gate, not to mention the 5 versus 2 that Mitchell would have to deal with. Sarah might be able to even those odds, but it would also put their healer in danger. John finally made it around the wall and got his first glimpse of these Raccans. They were short, limber creatures covered in black and white fur in an odd spotted pattern that made it difficult to see in the dappled shadows of the surrounding forest. Standing as tall as John¡¯s chest, they were shorter as a whole, but John could still see lengthy claws protruding from hands - paws, really, though the size and location of their fifth digit ensured they were able to wield tools as if they had thumbs. True to this, the skirmishers each carried a sling and a bulging pouch, no doubt full of ammunition for the slings. As they too saw John, the lead one let out a screech, and John¡¯s quick count placed all ten of them here. ¡°Tiro! Quick run through the village, get everyone here as soon as possible.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The only spear-wielder John had left, and as the ten raccoon-like monsters started fitting globs of something into their slings, Gunther tore off as if his life depended on it. It very much might have, as John turned to see Jack deflect some sort of projectile with his shield, the hard thwack of contact the first signs of starting combat. He raised his own shield in time to protect against the slung ammo. Rapid thunks on his shield peppered a bruise into his arm, and he marvelled at the sheer power that these little guys were putting into their slings. Even with only one other person nearby, John activated his Testudo skill in response His shield shimmered, and its weight doubled, no tripled, but the result was staggering. Glowing red copies of his shield had formed up to either side of his own, as if he had a man on either side as a part of a shield wall, and even as he staggered, those shields moved with him. The impacts of the slings ammo still travelled down his original shield into his arm, but tripling the effective surface of his protection was still more than great. With his high Strength, it was the surprise that sent him staggering, more so than the weight. He ignored that he¡¯d thought it was just to make an actual Testudo formation more effective. With this size of shield, they could actually start pushing forwards, maybe get into javelin range. ¡°Optio! Let¡¯s go take care of these little guys.¡±
George sighed, retrieving his arrows from the small creatures who¡¯d had no idea he was there. They seemed to have claws, and some sort of sling, but none had gotten a shot off so it was largely irrelevant information. In the camp, Kyla leaned against a tree, still recovering and Ezekiel stood guard over her, bow drawn and now pointed at George. The ranger scoffed. His Agility and Reflexes were much too high - the very moment the Archer¡¯s fingers left the string, he would be able to activate his new Dodge skill and return fire before anyone else could react. To even attempt to injure George would mean leaving Kyla to her fate as the waves got larger and worse, but Ezekiel was being stubborn. At least he lowered his bow before he spoke. ¡°Why are you still here?¡± George finished picking the bits of fur off one of his arrows. ¡°Told you. You need to come help us defend our town.¡± ¡°Why would we do that? You still haven¡¯t given us Singh back.¡± George shooks his head, tired of repeating the same argument. ¡°Nope, and we won¡¯t but if you help with the attack, we will consider it.¡± ¡°How is this any sort of fair? You assholes killed Jacob, Singh doesn¡¯t even kill anyone, yet he¡¯s the one locked up? That¡¯s fucked.¡± Kyla spat from the ground. The Ranger resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s also not fair that you¡¯re still alive. We should only have two of you left to deal with, but us assholes just couldn¡¯t help but healing your injuries. Which, might I add, would also be something regular in our town.¡± ¡°By you making us slaves?¡± ¡°Aspirants are not slaves!¡± George shouted out, finally letting some of his building temper show. ¡°They can leave at any time! Nobody had to come join us! You know what? Screw this. You see the timer, right?¡± Both Kyla and Derrick glanced into middle distance, looking at the same screen that George had floating in front of himself. Wave 1 complete! Wave 2 starts in: 03:53:26 ¡°We have four hours. I¡¯ll be back in three. When I come back, you better either be gone or packed and ready to come along. Either way, that¡¯s our last offer. I need to help with the defence.¡± Saying no more, George let out a quick whistle for Nimbus to follow, and hopped back up into a tree. The camp was a solid 15 minute hike through the woods, but he was finding it almost easy to navigate the branches and trunks of the trees. He knew - these would not have been the same trees that were in the same spot Before - these trees were large, and their canopies spread far. There were large spaces between the trunks, almost like a redwood forest, but the white trunks of birch and the hardy oaks fought with space against the mighty maple, and so there wasn¡¯t a tree shorter than 10 feet, or younger than a hundred years. He could make the trip in 10 if he stuck to the branchways, as he began to call them. They were even starting to get easier as he travelled, as stray twigs were broken off and the trail became worn down. He doubted anyone else in his group could travel this way, as it was his stats that allowed him to place each foot with surety and speed, but it could still be useful to mark out the path. George arrived back at Old Mill Town in time to see John and his soldiers policing the bodies of their invaders. They were worked over for any valuables, and one of the Tiros was digging a pit for a mass grave. They¡¯d pushed the tree line back during their reinforcing of the wall over the last few days, so he exited the branchways by the northern path that led further up the escarpment. Sarah met him at the gate. George waited idly while she pored over him for any sign of injury, ignoring his insistence that he was fine. ¡°I don¡¯t see why you do this every time I go out.¡± She continued searching as she answered. ¡°Every scratch I heal is experience. Every bruise I soothe is experience.¡± A tingling feeling crept over his body. ¡°Every harmful bacteria I purge is experience. You hunt, I heal. Not hard to get.¡± George hummed. ¡°Still. I¡¯d tell you if I was injured.¡± ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I would if it was serious.¡± She paused, considering, then shrugged. ¡°That may be so, but I¡¯m not letting my XP slip away so easily. You¡¯re clear, by the way.¡± The ranger began walking towards the clan-house, mildly annoyed when Sarah jogged quickly to catch up and fell into step beside him. ¡°Was there something else?¡± The healer nodded. ¡°You weren¡¯t here for the fight.¡± Her accusation went unspoked, but George still heard it. ¡°I was guarding Kyla and Ezekiel. They had to fight off ten of those little raccoon guys.¡± ¡°Raccans.¡± Sarah corrected. ¡°We were talking after the fight, and they¡¯re just as much raccoons as we are apes. I¡¯d be offended if something called me ¡®a little monkey¡¯, and Mitchell agreed. It¡¯s part of our culture now, to use proper names for things.¡± ¡°So¡­ I am now legally obligated to call them rake-uns?¡± ¡°Raccans.¡± She stressed. ¡°And no. Core members will have a less stringent set of laws but our culture stresses noblesse oblique.¡± ¡°What now?¡± Sarah pushed open the door, and George finally got out of the rain for the first time since he¡¯d stepped out that morning. Even though it was spring, a smoky fire crackled in the longpit. ¡°George!¡± He heard a voice call, and once his eyes adjusted he saw John sitting on a bench, Sarah already on her way over to join him. On the other side of the longpit, there was another bench, and at the head, a pair of wooden chairs sat unassuming. With the shutters open, a nice breeze came through the room, occasionally dispersing the smoke. ¡°Nice dress.¡± He commented, sitting across from the pair on his own bench. John scoffed, though from his smile, George could tell it was friendly. ¡°You¡¯d wear it too if you had legs like mine.¡± ¡°We¡¯d all be enskirted if we had legs like yours.¡± Mitchell said, coming down the stairs from the upper floor. ¡°Shame we don¡¯t.¡± Miriam followed behind, her class robes a grey-blue that was very muted in the current light. John smiled. ¡°Hey, guys gotta have a place in the world. Don¡¯t judge.¡± Mitchell walked to the head of the pit and looked awkwardly at the seat, though it wasn¡¯t long until Miriam pushed him towards it. Mitchell turned, and sat. ¡°So. Debrief on the first wave. As this is the first of these, keep in mind that how we do it now will be how we do it moving forwards, so please just humour me and play along.¡± Mitchell cleared his throat, sat up in his chair, then carefully removed his sword from his waist and placed it lengthwise across his lap. ¡°The Core Clan comes to meet. For the record, those present declare your attendance.¡± Miriam spoke up, clearly and as if waiting for this. ¡°Court Wizard, present.¡± The group caught on quickly. ¡°Master of Law and Order, here and ready.¡± ¡°Surgeon General, here.¡± George sighed. ¡°Master Hunter, present.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Patriarch, present. With the baring of steel, I call this meeting into motion.¡± The rasp of his sword cut through the faint crackling of the fire in the pit, and the blade glinted with orange light. He carefully placed the sword tip-down against the wooden riser, and leaned forwards to lace his hands together over the pommel. ¡°Master Hunter, your absence during the attack calls for explanation. I¡¯ll let you begin.¡± George sighed again. This was getting too formal for his tastes. ¡°Well, I figured it would be a little cruel to leave Kyla and Ezekiel injured and alone in the woods, so I went to go help them out. Without me, they would likely have fallen to the racco- Sorry, the Raccans. I¡¯ve determined that above all, these enemies are gross.¡± ¡°Gross?¡± Sarah asked, confused but quieting down when John elbowed her in the side. ¡°I second the question of the Surgeon General. Please elaborate on your meaning.¡± Mitchell¡¯s voice was slow and considered, a welcome change. The Ranger and the Page were not consistently on the best terms in the Before. George scratched his cat¡¯s back. ¡°We fought a group of 10 skirmishers. They lacked magic, thankfully, and their claws are short, but they carry diseased ammunition for their slings. Each has about 30 shots of ammunition before they switch to melee fighting. No sense of tactics or strategy, though they are capable of learning. After I¡¯d killed two, they circumvented my killzone, and we fought the rest in melee. They are slow, weak, and their only real advantage was in numbers. They attempted to bring down their shelter - however, the distraction proved enough for us to shoot the rest. The battle was easy.¡± MItchell nodded, clearly holding back interest. ¡°Master of Law and Order, do you have any further insights on these creatures?¡± John sat up straight. ¡°None, Patriarch. The Master Hunter¡¯s account is largely what I observed. They did not appear to change tactics when we blocked their sling attacks, and we used that to sally out and defeat them. Even just with myself and the Optio, it was a difficult battle but not one I¡¯d have a chance of losing, even without the backup. They just weren¡¯t strong enough to deplete my health fast enough.¡± ¡°Damn, Jack went out there to fight? Attaboy.¡± Mitchell glared at George for his outburst, but quickly moved on. ¡°Very well. Any additions to the matter of the Raccan attack? Yes, Master Wizard?¡± ¡°I would like to recap what we know currently and posit a couple of theories I had, which might be useful to keep in mind for the rest of the meeting. Firstly, we know that the Raccan Skirmishers approached our wall, and immediately made for the north gate. This either implies that they had some scouting force we didn¡¯t see, or that they were given some extranatural method of finding our gates - with all of the further implications that entails. We cannot discount luck, but I would like to avoid making any theories based on our enemies'' good fortune.¡± John frowned. He hadn¡¯t made that leap. When nobody interrupted, Miriam continued. ¡°My second theory is one that has potential ramifications if Ge- sorry, if our Master Hunter succeeds in his plan to procure reinforcements. We know that we were attacked by ten enemies, and so too was the other group. Should we gain their assistance with our own defence, we need to be aware of the fact that we could be doubling the number of assailants that come to our own settlement.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s still not dismiss it. In the most callous of situations, we would gain double the experience, and even splitting it with them, we¡¯d end up better off than if we each deal with this alone. Further, if they do manage to hold off these attacks, they will be gaining experience at a faster rate than us, which would open us up to retribution of a higher scale than we could possibly deal with. On a more personal level, I don¡¯t feel right leaving them out there to die. Finally, on a technical level, if I let them die out there without attempting to help, I will be penalised by my class. Considering the lack of limits we¡¯ve seen from the System so far, I don¡¯t feel comfortable testing that. Thus, I would like to open the floor to opinions, after which we will have a vote.¡± It took them an hour to come to a consensus, and by the end all were frustrated, both at the situation and the clear formality everyone was struggling to uphold, but in the end the vote came out unanimous, and George was pleased. They would keep the invitation open to relocate - wether into the settlement itself or just nearby - until the end of the second wave. After that, they would either be dead, fleeing, or clear enemies. As the second vote passed, Miriam almost skipped her way over to the town¡¯s namesake, the old mill, with a thong of leather in her hands. Moments later, she left, and the town finally knew silence from the psychological torture of Singh¡¯s voice. She wasn¡¯t cruel, though. She left him a small bowl of water and a single apple.
¡°We¡¯ve gotta take it, don¡¯t we?¡± Kyla asked weakly. She was no longer getting worse and the infection had been purged by that Healer woman, but the level of injury she¡¯d taken still needed her to rest and recuperate. Without steady food and water, she was having issues getting back to full strength. ¡°Fuck if I don¡¯t wanna, though.¡± Ezekiel hummed, having heard this line of thought, or those like it, ever since George had left them. He let her vent, though. Despite having known her for years, Kyla was still a mystery to him. They¡¯d shared an apartment building, and occasionally made small talk in the lobby or the elevator, but he really had no idea what she was like. When he¡¯d first moved to the city, he¡¯d developed a hopeless crush on her. Years of consistency and cowardice had robbed him of the chance to make anything more with her, and the two had fallen into an odd friendship. She, with her high-pressure position at a business she¡¯d never named, provided her with many reasons to seek the bottom of a bottle of alcohol. Him, with his flame burned down to a stubborn ember, never said no when she showed up needing distraction. Their distraction was more of the drinking and playing card games, and soon enough she¡¯d brought her cousin Jacob by. It was only natural, with him living in the same building, and Ezekiel and Jacob grew much closer, much faster than he had with Kyla. Thinking of him brought pain to his heart, and so he recentered himself in the world around him. ¡°There will be more.¡± He stated, worrying about something else to keep his mind distracted. In this situation, it was hard to think of anything other than the recent attack. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°More coons.¡± He elaborated, already considering how they could fight them off and realising quickly it wouldn¡¯t be possible. Maybe if they had some sort of choke point or higher ground with a vantage, he could- Kyla gave him a dark scowl. ¡°The fuck you just say?¡± Ezekiel¡¯s thoughts screeched to a halt, replaying over what he¡¯d said so far. He¡¯d only hummed, then worried about the coming raccoon people. ¡°I just said there¡¯s probably more coons coming. Way I see it, no media-¡± ¡°Call me coon one more time and I¡¯ll slit your throat while you sleep.¡± Kyla had a hand on her spear and no look of a joke in her eyes. Ezekiel paused again, aghast. ¡°What are you talking about? I mean the literal raccoon people who came and tried to kill us. How in the actual hell did you leap to some nonsensical bullshit like that?¡± Kyla sat, searching his eyes, before huffing angrily. ¡°Stupid-ass. Coon¡¯s a slur for me.¡± Ezekiel blinked, bewildered by the reaction of his foul-mouthed former flame. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to. How do you feel if I called you a cracker?¡± ¡°...like I should go dip myself in some soup? How am I supposed to feel?¡± Ezekiel knew this was typically a boundary of conversation he would never have breached Before. ¡°I¡¯m much more worried about the fact you threatened to kill me over a word.¡± ¡°You called me a slur.¡± ¡°How is that anywhere close to a proportional response?¡± Ezekiel spat out, exasperated. ¡°Like, imagine you were just driving down the highway and some jerk cut you off. Your response is just to murder them all?¡± ¡°No, and I don¡¯t appreciate you implying I¡¯m some brainless thug.¡± Ezekiel stood, his own frustration ready to pour out. ¡°Listen. I get that you¡¯re frustrated. I get that you¡¯re used to being capable. I get that losing your cousin was hard, and our only option is to go to his killers and ask for protection. But I lost him too. You don¡¯t see me lashing out at the only person willing to help, trying to start fights for no reason. You wonder why we haven¡¯t talked much in the last couple days? Because of this shitty attitude. Nobody cares that you¡¯re black when we¡¯re fighting off coyotes every night. Nobody cares about what your ancestors were called, because we were attacked by bloody raccoon people and I used a short form I use for raccoons. If you wanna fight someone, go find that Roman wannabe and shove your stick into him. Personally, I¡¯m gonna track that tree guy with the cat so I can get myself a warm meal and a bloody bath. You can either stay here and bitch at people who wanna help, or get off your ass and let me drag you over there. Either way, I¡¯m gone in five minutes.¡± Ezekiel paused, wondering if he¡¯d pushed too far. He glanced at Kyla, but she remained silent, her expression unreadable. With a sigh, he began packing his meagre belongings from around the camp, his mind racing with the uncertainty of their future. After four minutes of silence, two figures trudged through the forest towards a river, leaning on each other for support, and all thoughts of antagonism buried. 16. Necessity ¡°Hold!¡± John called to the two figures standing just outside the gates. The rain made it difficult to see far, but it appeared one was leaning on the other for support. The figures ceased their shambling, and the one on the right drew its hood back to reveal a mop of soaking black hair and a pale, angular face. Ezekiel Human (F) Archer Level 7 ¡°We come at the request of George to help with the defense! He says you have food and clean water.¡± The man named Ezekiel called out. ¡°Aye.¡± John called back. ¡°That we do, if you can afford it. George does his best with the hunting but a bowl of cereal will do wonders after days of meat.¡± The figure faltered. ¡°We have no money. Will you feed us for our service?¡± John groaned. ¡°Maybe.¡± He turned to the side, to where Jack stood in his militia gear. ¡°Optio, go out and lead these two through the barricade to the pavilion. Aleks, go get Sarah, tell her to bring some food and meet us there. Gunther, watch the wall and shout if anyone else approaches. Mitchell is watching the South Gate, so you don¡¯t need to patrol, just watch.¡± John hopped down from the scaffolding, a 10 foot drop that would have been dangerous Before but was now solved with little more than a bending of knees on impact. Jack, his Optio, scurried down the ladder behind him and went out to the new arrivals. His Tiros leapt to their duties. He could not speak well of their skill, but in passion towards their duties he had not a single complaint. Soon, he was standing within the pavilion, boots soaked through but slowly drying. It turned out that the System considered wet boots to be in need of repair, and the limited repairing capabilities of the items they¡¯d Systemized also dried them out when he stepped out of the rain. Sarah stood to one side, and George to the other, while before them Kyla and Ezekiel were doing their best to wring out their clothes. Sarah started. ¡°I¡¯m glad you two came, though I¡¯m a little surprised. Our first impression was¡­ unfortunate. I would like to apologize on behalf of my group for any wounds we have caused you.¡± Kyla scoffed, but it quickly devolved into coughing. Sarah stepped forward, but John placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her back, as much as the act made him queasy. The group waited for her to finish, then Ezekiel spoke. ¡°It was a difficult decision. We¡¯re just trying to survive as best we can. I¡­ I will apologize for our original actions. I could say Singh talked us into it, but we didn¡¯t exactly put up much of a fight. Just¡­ if we¡¯d asked off the bat, would you have let us in? A group of strangers?¡± John shrugged. ¡°It wasn¡¯t as cut and dried back then as it is now. Besides, no point thinking on ¡®ifs¡¯. We¡¯re here now, and you¡¯re inside the walls. Once you¡¯re all settled in, I can take you to go see Singh, though we haven¡¯t decided what to do with him yet.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been days.¡± Kyla rasped out. ¡°What¡¯s to decide?¡± Sarah grimaced. ¡°He has a way of¡­ pushing our dedication to our morals. Either way, you have to decide in what capacity you¡¯d like to join us. John could use you in the defence, and you can leave after. Or, you could join us as Aspirants, and work your way into the Inner clan. Finally, and you would have to find Mitchell for this, our leader has deigned to offer you refugee status through the attacks. He¡¯ll keep you safe, fed, clothed, and secure until the attacks end, upon which point you will be permanently exiled.¡± The two looked at each other. ¡°Can we have a moment to discuss it?¡± Ezekiel asked. John nodded and began drawing objects from his pouches. ¡°Take your time, but not too long. We only have about an hour left.¡± The trio left, George having remained silent and watching the entire time. The only thing they left behind was a small water skin, a loaf of bread wrapped in some sort of waxed paper, and two confused but grateful human beings.
Mitchell rubbed his temples, stepping away from the window in his room where he¡¯d watched the event. The two newcomers were arguing animatedly, even if one was sitting on the floor of the pavilion. Two more citizens didn¡¯t mean much for the settlement, but it meant the world for the defence. He would leave it to John to organise that part of things. His own input would only be needed to place them in whichever role they¡¯d decided. He had decided to codify the various tiers available in Old Mill Town. Core members were reserved for him and his party, along with any other people he roped into helping him run a town. They would be the ruling class, so to speak, though he¡¯d made it abundantly clear that these positions wouldn¡¯t be passed down to the children of any members - in fact, for each Core member to have a child, there would be one new addition to the Inner members. If an Inner had a child, it would be Outer, and if an Outer had a child, it would be an Aspirant. Aspirants having children would just create more Aspirants, as that tier was really just a probationary Outer member. Rights were universal, punishments universal, and taxes - when they actually started having some sort of economy that wasn¡¯t ¡®buy food from the floating crystal¡¯ - were also universal. A flat fifth of all earned coin was to be granted to the settlement, as Mitchell really needed to at least get a Farm going to prevent the steady loss of coin from feeding the people. He also made it clear how to move into the next rank of the settlement, and ensured that it was entirely possible for an Aspirant to become an Inner member, even if it would take a while to work through the ranks. The Aspirants were promoted simply by living in the town and paying their taxes. He¡¯d yet to decide on what, but he imagined there would be some sort of minimum level requirement and time requirement. Outer¡¯s were promoted directly by the Core group: John would take Outer¡¯s as soldiers, and promote them on retirement. Sarah would take in the healers, medics, and doctors, promoting them based on time of service. The term was short, as Mitchell had wanted to incentivize those professions to come. Doctors were a force multiplier. A wounded soldier forced to retire would become a veteran instead. Even one life saved was, pragmatically, someone with experience that wouldn¡¯t be lost. Miriam hadn¡¯t shown much interest in running the town, though she was an excellent springboard for Mitchell to launch ideas from - compared to him, she was much more in tune with how someone would react to something. He still gave her the opportunity to promote if she so desired, based on merit. George had outright refused the ability. Mitchell would be the one to promote for things like deeds, or as part of trade deals and the like. It was a larger responsibility, but that worked for him, as he¡¯d learned during the first wave of invaders that his secondary class didn¡¯t get any experience from direct combat. Sure, he got a very small fraction of whatever was killed in the encounter as a whole, but after comparing it with John, he hadn¡¯t even gotten one Raccan¡¯s worth of experience. Closer to a half a Raccan. Instead, his Aspiring Clan Leader class levelled up over time. It had been glacial at first, but as the settlers came in, the rate had increased by a small amount. Not enough to improve the immigration situation, but enough where he was comfortable switching back to semi-skilled workers like Jack. He had more than proven his worth over all this time, and it didn¡¯t seem that quantity was the only factor for his own personal experience gain. He also recalled the message he¡¯d been given after he¡¯d fought at the South wall against the paltry force of Raccans. Combat complete! Enemies defeated: 1 Allies Assisted: 2 Number of retreating steps: 13 Ineligible for Experience Gain! The stairs creaked as he made his way back down to the room with the longpit, throwing another log onto the embers. He tried to find a comfortable position in the chair he¡¯d assigned for himself, but it was impossible by design - John had argued that being in the seat of command should never feel comfortable, and in the moment, Mitchell had agreed. He only slightly regretted it now, but that regret was outweighed by the truth of that statement. Still, morals made for poor cushions. So as Kyla, spearwoman, and Ezekiel, archer, were led into the main hall, Mitchell stood, hiding his discomfort. As John gestured to the benches, Mitchell walked around his chair and accessed the System Shop. As the rest of the Core settled in, he emerged with a tray adorned with crude wooden cups and plates. Alone, he walked around the room and gave one of each to each attendee. ¡°What is this, communion?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise you were starting a state religion.¡± ¡°No. In our budding culture, this is how we will show respect. Both to servants and to guests. I present to you all the bread from my oven, and the wine from my cellar. Eat and drink, and know that you are safe as my guests. Well, until the next wave, at least.¡± John elbowed George to cut him off, then drained his cup in one gulp. ¡°Not the best, but it¡¯ll do just fine. So?¡± The eyes in the room looked to the newcomers, who sat awkwardly on the bench, plates balanced in their laps. Kyla spoke first. ¡°It¡¯s up to Zee. I just wanna say this is the first time I¡¯ve been inside a building in a week. If you have any showers or- Hey, what the hell was that for?¡± Sarah had interrupted her with a staff whacking. Rather than say anything, she simply pulled her own robes away from her underarms and mimed sniffing at them. Kyla followed along and with wide eyes, her voice caught. ¡°You have a clean spell? Fuck Zee, I¡¯m in. Wherever you need me.¡± Ezekiel frowned at her for a moment, but quickly sighed as he sipped the wine, a visible stress releasing from his shoulders. ¡°Pretty much what she said. We don¡¯t have much of a choice, so we¡¯re here and we¡¯re ready to help, so long as you keep feeding us.¡± Looking closer, Mitchell could see. They were on the verge of starving. Baggy clothes and fierce attitudes did much to disguise it, but the sunken cheeks and slight shaking of hands would be more than enough evidence, even if he didn¡¯t see the way they had devoured the bread outside, and kept glancing to the others plates. ¡°I will not feed you.¡± Mitchell stated, but he continued before their looks of dismay could grow any worse. Or before Kyla began plotting his death. ¡°I will, however, give you the means to feed yourselves. When we started, we all lived thanks to our Master Hunter. Once we¡¯d gotten settled, we were lucky enough to find a Settlement Stone. Now we pay the price, and that price is violence. Join our admittedly small military as Outer members of the Clan, and you will be paid. You can buy your own food, and be beholden to nobody save your commander.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll even front some, so you can get some proper shoes and such.¡± John cut in, unable to remain silent any longer. He still found it difficult to look at Kyla, knowing he was the one that had injured her so roughly and killed their ally. ¡°And I¡¯d just like to say, I don¡¯t have anything against you or your group. I personally buried that large lad, and we set him apart from the other graves out of respect. I do not apologize for our actions that night¡­ but I am so very sorry for your loss.¡± Kyla remained silent, emotions warring inside her, and Ezekiel spoke on their behalf. ¡°I mean, you fucked us up with a stick, dude. That¡¯s bonkers any way you slice it.¡± ¡°Yes, well,¡± Sarah stood and brandished her staff. ¡°I think I¡¯ll requisition these two for the next wave. Gives me a chance to see if they''re hiding any injuries.¡± As Ezekiel stared warily at the twirling implement of magical power, Miriam finally let out a chuckle. ¡°Yes, that is something you¡¯ll find out about us sooner or later - help or hell both come at the end of a stick.¡± Mitchell burst out laughing, surprising all present. ¡°That¡¯s what we should call ourselves! The Branch Clan!¡±
Mitchell had been vetoed and wasn¡¯t all that upset about it. He just thought it would be funny, but that really wasn¡¯t a good way to name somewhere that people would actually want to be. Besides, it would get confusing if they eventually did split off a branch of the clan. As he stood at the north gate, John and his soldiers in their positions and Miriam atop the scaffolding, he wondered on how well the other team would perform. The newcomers seemed more comfortable with Sarah and George, so those two had taken them to hold the south gate. He would not make them fight alongside John right away. He ran out of time to think, as the timer slowly ran out its last seconds. ¡°Optio, get us a patrol on the walls, but keep each of them within shouting distance of the gates.¡± John barked out. ¡°Keeping them close for reinforcements?¡± John nodded slowly. ¡°That, and trying to work something out. They didn¡¯t even bother to try the walls last time, they just came for the gates. I want to see if that was because of the wall, or because we were all guarding it.¡± Mitchell¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°If it¡¯s the wall, we could just barricade one of the gates, and they¡¯d be forced to the other one!¡± John hummed. ¡°Maybe. Either way, you¡¯re going to have to do the work of three soldiers.¡± ¡°Ahem!¡± Miriam cleared her throat loudly. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°One and a half soldiers.¡± John corrected. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be fine.¡± Mitchell grimaced, before sliding the full plate helmet onto his head. His voice emerged muffled. ¡°This may get a little bit messy. My class won¡¯t give me experience if I retreat. At all. It counted steps in the last fight. I¡¯m hoping it¡¯ll still count if I hold ground, so once they start to show up, don¡¯t be alarmed if I need to step forwards out of formation.¡± John¡¯s eyes set in determination. ¡°Then the formation steps forwards. I got your back, Mitch. Miri can handle the gate if she needs to. Just make sure you call it out if you¡¯re going to Flare them.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got something even better.¡± She replied smugly, though the imperious effect was ruined by her sodden robes and soaked hair. Mitchell settled in, raising his round shield in one arm and his class sword in the other. With every level the weapons got lighter and lighter, and by this point it was as if he were carrying foam variants of his gear. Incoming Wave of Enemies! Wave 2: 15x Raccan Skirmisher 5x Raccan Brute Then, they were beset by foes. Eight Skirmishers stepped out of the treeline, with a man-sized Raccan on either flank hulking with corded muscle. It was difficult to see them in the rain, but they looked like raccoons standing upright, with slightly longer forelimbs. Those limbs bobbed with the heavy breathing of the Brutes, and from the rear a third Brute stepped out of the treeline. ¡°High HP and Stamina, low MP.¡± John muttered. ¡°They have an MP ability!¡± Miriam shouted out. ¡°Probably some sort of berserk or power attack, from the looks of them.¡± Mitchell finished. ¡°Disposition: coming to try to kick our asses.¡± ¡°Let them come!¡± John shouted, slamming his javelin against his shield twice. They came. Miriam watched in equal parts horror and amazement as the Skirmishers wound up and released their ammo as one. John stepped forwards, glowing red copies of his shield spreading wide to deflect the projectiles away from him and Mitchell. The Brute in the back pushed through the line of skirmishers and charged forwards, even as the Skirmishers reloaded. The charging brute barked something, and the Skirmishers began to fling their shots as soon as they were ready, rather than wait for massed fire. A faint bark from their back caught her attention, and with a glance she saw that the others had engaged their own, smaller force of Raccans. Then, her vision blurred and she stumbled forwards as something rank and jagged impacted the back of her head, and she had to flail to not fall off the scaffolding. Cursing herself, she cast her newest skill with but a thought, a shimmering blue bodysuit of Mage Armour flickering into existence around her and fading shortly. A furious look on her face, she pointed her staff over the rampart and let loose with a flurry of Mana Darts, the spell from the wand that she¡¯d managed to duplicate in her last three days of study. Three bolts shot out from the tip of the staff, pulsing and vibrating through the air as they tracked a Skirmisher. She didn¡¯t know which one threw the rock but she¡¯d put them all down, just to be sure. The Skirmisher had no chance. It rolled out of the way of the first bolt, but the second corrected its path mid flight and impacted against the creatures knee, snapping bone and sending it to the ground. The third bolt tracked this fall and buried itself into the Skirmisher¡¯s chest, the crackling of multiple bones snapping echoing over the rainfall. The first bolt, which had missed, shot upwards in a loop and came down like a bolt of judgement from on high. It veered downwards, and after impact the only thing left of its face was a furry red mess. Too much for the small guys, I won¡¯t have the MP to fire off seven more of those. Let¡¯s see how the big boys deal with it. She popped back up from the rampart, ducking back immediately after as stone after stone pelted the wall right in front of her. They¡¯re locked in on me. Should keep my guys safe, but stops me from helping them. ¡°Damnit! I¡¯m pinned!¡± Miriam called out. ¡°On it!¡± John called back, rearing back and throwing his javelin with all the power of a ballista. The wooden weapon impacted one of the Skirmishers, sending it flying back until the javelin ended its arc and sunk into the soil, the corpse of the skirmisher sliding slowly down the cracked spear. Mitchell had already begun moving forwards, only two steps so far, but those were two steps he couldn¡¯t take back. Even as he watched the other Brutes shout something and the whole force begin moving forwards, the first one reached him and he lost himself in the combat. Unlike the skirmishers, his Weapon Mastery erupted into his mind, and he followed its suggestions as best he could. A third step forward to gather the momentum he needed to stop the charge, he slammed the shield out into the beasts snarling maw. A reverberating clang sounded, and then a pair of clawed hands gripped either side of his shield and tried to drag him towards the enemy force. Mitchell slipped the sword under the shield, performing a draw cut that should have immobilised the creature, but its fur was closer to wire, and he only managed a shallow slice before the brute bounded back, releasing his shield. Following the instruction of his Weapon Mastery, he followed its retreat, slamming his shield out again. With his enemy off-balance, the slam was enough to push it back onto the ground. With a grim smile, he stabbed the sword downwards towards the creatures neck but missed when it jerked to the side. A patch of red still started spreading through its fur, but it was unharmed enough to scramble to its feet. A clanging sound pulled him out of his trance and he saw John at his side, shield extended and doing his best to get between Mitchell and the other two Brutes. The two were hammering at his shield pushing with all of their might, and Mitchell saw the next events almost as if in slow motion. A vein pulsed on John¡¯s neck and his face was red with effort, but he stood his ground. Almost as if planned, one of the Brutes went high, trying to get over the shield, and the other went low, claws striking out at John¡¯s unarmoured legs. It was genius really. John would have to either lower the shield and block the claws, which opened up his face to the jumping Brute. Or he lifted his shield and blocked the jump, but got hit in the legs, which could be deadly very quickly. John didn¡¯t hesitate. He lifted the shield. Scrambling forwards, Mitchell lunged with his sword, hoping to get the one going low, but his foot didn¡¯t move and he slammed into the mud, his sword being lost in the fall. He raised his head but it was soon pushed down into the mud, and battering fists beat at his back even as claws scrabbled over his armour, looking for any gap or place to pry. Mitchell¡¯s thoughts began to turn to panic, as his face was pressed into mud and he still couldn¡¯t breath. He slammed a fist into the ground, followed soon by the other, and tried to do a pushup, but a claw quickly hammered at the inside of his elbow and he went crashing to the ground again. At least he¡¯d gotten a breath. He tried again, this time locking his elbow, trying to ignore the searing pain in his ribs. He waited for the claw and as soon it struck, he collapsed his arm, pinching the beasts paw in between plate, and rolled with the momentum, putting him on his back with the sky above and a Brute below. Just in time to see John stagger backwards, both legs bleeding and a snarl on his face. ¡°Miri!¡± He called out. ¡°We need a Flare!¡± Mitchell¡¯s eyes widened, then slammed shut as the light-bearing projectile soared overhead. The light pierced through his eyelids, and even when it was gone managed to leave spots in his now-open eyes. The Raccans were less fortunate. Due to their shorter legs, the Raccan Skirmishers were still at least 20 feet away when their corneas were burned by the light of the sun on an overcast morning. A bolt slammed out into one of the Brutes accosting John, and a second and third hurled it like a ragdoll into the mud where it struggled to stand. The bone poking through its leg prevented that from happening. Taking the interruption, John whirled and stabbed his gladius down, right through the leg of the Brute that was doing its best to keep Mitchell down. The Page scrambled to his feet, scooping up his sword and charging forwards, trusting John to finish off the one on the ground. With two Brutes down, it was just the Skirmishers - so long as he could take out the last one. He remembered how he¡¯d fought against the fire ant queen, and called upon that feeling, that all encompassing focus that would leave him victorious or dead on the other side, and pushed forwards with all of his might, reaching the last Brute right as it scrambled up from the ground. Again, small claws gripped the edges of his shield, and he knew it would be a struggle to release it by main strength. Mitchell planted his sword in the mud and punched at the claws with the steel gauntlets of his armour, crushing the claws and fingers of his foe. The beast hissed and released the shield, yanking it away from Mitchell¡¯s center, and he let it, using the spinning momentum to grab and whip his sword through the air. The Brute took a step back, barely avoiding the whistling blade, and Mitchell¡¯s foot matched its movement, stepping forward and negating its attempt to disengage. The Brute roared, and a red mist blew out of its nostrils. Then, it attacked. The strikes were harder, faster, more vicious. Dodges were abandoned in favour of counter-attacks, small cuts ignored, all of its focus was on Mitchell and the act of killing him. Mitchell was a mirror, not in temperament but in goal. A hammering strike from above was deflected with the shield, the following uppercut landing against his chest plate even as his own fist lashed out, splitting the skin above its eye and causing blood to start dripping down. By then, his shield was coming back around but was forced off-centre again with a vicious kick. The Brute lunged forward, claws reaching for his neck, and Mitchell stepped into it, slamming his helmeted head forwards - inside the arc of its swing - and into the Raccan¡¯s snout. The Brute grabbed onto his shoulders, bottom legs kicking and long claws screeching against his armoured belly, even as Mitchell slammed his head forward again, stars swimming in his vision. The Brutes strikes weakened, so Mitchel did it again. And again. He lost himself in the motion of slamming his head forwards, the only thing he was focussed on being the death of the Brute. After John had finished cleaning up the last Brute, and Miriam had been sent off to help with wrapping up, Mitchell finally ran out of energy and looked up, a blood-soaked helm looking almost savage as it quickly glanced around for the next target. On seeing nothing but corpses around him, the tense energy in the armoured figure left, and he slumped atop the mangled body of the Brute. Shaking hands scrabbling, he managed the latch on the helmet and yanked it off, tossing the armour aside and gasping deep breathes. John slowly walked over and held out a hand to help him up. ¡°You fight scary, Mitch.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡± He gave a pained smile, even as his eyes flicked off to the side. ¡°Besides. I hit level 11 from that. Next time they come, I¡¯ll be ready.¡± New Skill Unlocked at Level 10! Guard - In the March, there is no route to go around your obstacles. You must go through, even if they push back. Increase the effectiveness of Parry, Block, and Riposte actions while on the March. ¡°Good, because it looks like they¡¯ve given us an hour less prep time for the third wave. It¡¯s coming. Oh, and I hit 14. I should get a new skill at 15 if the pattern holds up.¡± Mitchell finally grabbed his hand, and allowed himself to be pulled back up. He kept up the small talk with John, well aware that both of them were incredibly wound up and trying their best not to show it. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder though - in that last fight, who was the real Brute?
¡°Would everyone be quiet for a moment, damnit?!¡± The arguments petered out, and John sat back down. ¡°Thank you. Patriarch, if you would.¡± Mitchell had refused to have the cleaning spell cast on him, so he sat on his chair, muddy and bloody, which was almost funny compared to Miriam who was sitting beside him, nose upturned and glaring. It was slightly unsettling, but still difficult to see in the dim light of the clan house. He cleared his throat. ¡°We have three hours. We will debrief, but if this pattern continues, we¡¯ll need to be prepared for less and less time between waves. Luckily, we didn¡¯t have to deal with any more of them due to taking in our newcomers. John- sorry, Master of Law and Order-, how did your soldiers do in the last fight?¡± John stood from the bench. ¡°My assumption was correct. None of the Raccans even attempted to cross the wall. I¡¯d like to see if Sarah and the support corps can assist me in blockading one of the gates, so we can concentrate our forces in one spot.¡± ¡°Even if it means they¡¯re concentrated too?¡± George interjected. ¡°Even so. We¡¯re just short of the manpower needed for an effective defence, and with my new Carpenter skill, I can block that gate in no time at all. I¡¯d much rather have all of us in the fight than have to split up again, even if just to keep Sarah nearby for healing.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Then that is what we¡¯ll do. Master Hunter, is there any way we can trim them down before they get here?¡± George shook his head. ¡°Not a single trap behind the treeline was set off, and I wasn¡¯t able to track their prints any further than the trees. It¡¯s almost like they¡¯re popping out of nowhere.¡± ¡°Noted. Anyone make any gains worth talking about? I got a skill that will help me be in the front line, so I¡¯ll be up there with John.¡± ¡°And Kyla.¡± George added. ¡°She¡¯s a beast with that spear of hers.¡± Mitchell mentally shook himself. ¡°Right. How¡¯d they do in the defense?¡± George shrugged, but Sarah spoke up. ¡°Kyla fights like she has something to prove, and Zee is a crackshot.¡± ¡°He¡¯s alright.¡± George insisted. ¡°Right,¡± Mitchell prodded, ¡°George, keep an eye on them for this wave. I¡¯d expect a higher count of Skirmishers and Brutes. What tactics did you use, and how did they work out?¡± George shrugged again, and this time spoke as well. ¡°Ezekiel and I were up on the ramparts shooting arrows, and Kyla was down at the bottom holding the gate. It got a little dicey with the Brutes, but once she had them aggro¡¯d we cleaned up. How¡¯d you guys do?¡± John stepped forward. ¡°Between Mitchell and I, we held the gate. With Miriam on artillery, we also only ran into issues when the Brutes made their charge.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°From my own understanding, I think if we had faced all of the enemies with all of us, it would have gone better. So this time, that is what we¡¯ll do.¡±
John¡¯s new skill was called Woodfuse, and it was very much doing what it advertised. As each log was hefted into place - Mitchell had recently gained enough Strength to lift them as well - John ran his fingers down the crack in between the logs and wood fibres sprouted, weaving themselves together and fusing the pieces together. Once he had fused the entire length, they got to work on the next one. It wasn¡¯t able to split the logs, unfortunately, so returning the wall to a gate would actually be harder than just having the gate moved to an unfused section of wall. That would be something to determine afterwards, though. Sarah¡¯s support corps finally showed their labour. As the wall was finished and the first hour ended, each fighter was approached by a peasant bearing a bowl of stew, a hunk of bread, and a waterskin. She rounded them back up after, and they made for the river to clean the implements. With the fortification complete, there was nothing more to do inside the walls, but the work didn¡¯t stop. Outside the north gate, George was directing the creation of the medieval equivalent of a minefield. Two covered pit traps were hidden on the main road leading in, and there were jaw traps dug in a scattered pattern on either side of the road. The jaw traps were particularly nasty - a narrow hole dug into the dirt, at the bottom of which was placed a crude set of wooden jaws that were mechanically designed to tighten as the trapped creature tried to lift their leg out of the hole. They wouldn¡¯t kill the Raccans, but they would keep them in one spot for either Ezekiel or George to fill them with arrows. Lastly, stakes were sharpened and dug deep into the ground at the base of the wall, where the starting markings of a trench was being dug by the supporting peasants. Mitchell noted that he should probably hold a feast of some sort after all this. They were losing coin quickly, though at least the Brutes had the forethought to carry a coin or two for them to pick up. Kills were claimed and loot distributed, though not nearly enough to replenish what they¡¯d spent on food alone. A part of him hoped some new, more dangerous Raccan would show up with the next wave. When said wave came, and there was a tall Raccan in the back, festooned with fetishes and piercings and waving about a staff adorned with a bird''s skull, that part crawled into a hole and hid. Incoming Wave of Enemies! Wave 3: 20x Raccan Skirmisher 10x Raccan Brute 1x Raccan Shaman 17. The Raccan Army The shaman waved its staff, did a small dance, and the ten Brutes swelled to the size of compact cars, lumbering over the backs of the small horde of Raccan Skirmishers. The ranged troops had yet to start firing their slings. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of big boys.¡± Sarah said with a low whistle. She was atop the wall with Miriam, under the small overhang they¡¯d tried to assemble to keep whoever was on watch dry during their shift. It only fit one, and Sarah had commandeered it. ¡°Sarah, get your healing ready.¡± Miriam muttered under her breath, used to the drenching of the rain at this point. ¡°I think our own boys are about to get stomped.¡± ¡°Always is.¡± Sarah murmured back. John cleared his throat, shooting them an annoyed look. ¡°Ladies, I appreciate the preparedness, but for our morale please keep those sentiments to yourself. Legion! Open Testudo!¡± In the dim, rain-soaked light, the few members of John¡¯s legion moved into position beside him. His Optio stood to his left, the two Tiro to his right. The muddy ground squelched under their feet, and the cold, wet air bit at their exposed skin. They left a gap in the formation, a testament to John¡¯s rigorous drilling. He knew the formation might falter if they had to move, but here, in the narrow gate, they stood ready for his orders. So when the Shaman did another dance, and the Skirmisher¡¯s ammunition began to smoulder, he called out the next. ¡°Legion, Closed Testudo!¡± They scrambled in front of him, lifting shoddy wooden shields and relying on him for the rest. From the second row, he raised his scutum high and activated his Testudo skill, just in time to deflect the dozens of smoking rocks that slammed against his shield and burst into flames. If not for the absolutely drenched state of everyone¡¯s gear, and the fact that they had been in too much of a hurry to do anything extra like dry out before the battle, the Legion¡¯s shields would have gone up in smoke just like that. As it was, they sat comfortable save for the scattered impacts of the sling shots. A twang cut through the downpour and a black blur shot from the ramparts. As fast as a twitch, one of the juiced-up Brutes stepped in front of the Shaman, a black feathered arrow sinking into its bicep. It turned its head to the sky and roared, and from behind it the Shaman cast another spell. A golden glow surrounded the Brute who¡¯d been shot, and the arrow pushed itself out of his flesh, leaving no wound behind. George hummed thoughtfully in response.¡°Ezekiel, you¡¯re on wall cover. Keep ¡®em safe.¡± ¡°Where are y- George! Damnit..¡± Ezekiel called out over the wall to the east, then shook his head and continued firing from his now lonely scaffold. A couple more shots saw a Skirmisher fall to the ground, unmoving. George had run off to the east, and as the sounds of battle fell behind he noticed a small shadow keeping pace with him, just off to his side. ¡°Nimbus, I thought I told you to stay back at the settlement.¡± Their path through the branchways went quickly, and soon they turned north to get around the Raccans and start hitting them from the back. The cat stutter-stepped, and a pinecone fell from a branch in front, nearly hitting him in the head. George laughed. ¡°Alright buddy, good point. If it gets rough, though, you know to go for Sarah, right? None of this instinctual ¡®crawl under something to die¡¯.¡± Nimbus meowed, and George sighed with relief. ¡°Good. Just keep yourself safe and watch my back, buddy. When we¡¯re done with all of this, I¡¯m gonna buy us a whole tuna.¡±
From her vantage point, Miriam had a clear view of the battlefield. However, with the Raccans maintaining their distance and enhancing their attacks, she found herself out of effective range. The Acolyte contemplated her next move, knowing her spells could turn the tide if she timed them right. She could light off a Flare, but the clouds weren¡¯t nearly thick enough for the light of a Flare to be a lasting distraction. She could use her new spell, which could probably deal with quite a few of them, but as she stood, she knew it would drain her of MP. She knew, deep down inside her, that she¡¯d been working on spells beyond her capabilities. She was close, she felt, on cracking the secret to indiscrete mental magic, but all of her research just pointed towards that being very high level magic - the MP requirements were insane. She¡¯d also experimented with a version of Flare where the spots of light acted as turrets that shot more Magic Missiles, but that too ended up far too expensive. Then something struck her: With the Flare spell, she¡¯d figured out how to originate a spell effect from a targeted location - it was how she made the lights spread out like a firework. She¡¯d also learned the difference between the Mana Dart spell from the wand, and her own Magic Missile spell, which was mainly the number of projectiles and the homing function. Switching that out for something less complex should allow her to reduce the costs enough for it to be viable. Finally, in her experiments with mental magic, she¡¯d run through more arrays than any other, and the key one was a ¡®self-reference¡¯ array. This array did nothing on its own, but acted as a semi-autonomous targeting array. Her main issue with mental magic was the targets, and the amount of diagnostic spells she would have to cast - though they were less spells and more like single-array cantrips. 1 MP cost at the most. The self-reference array allowed her to start building something much more complex, and in the end she¡¯d created a Calm Emotions spell, which would simply equalise the levels of extra hormones in someone¡¯s brain, along with a dispelling effect. Whereas before she could cast it on Mitchell as she¡¯d diagnosed his typical levels, with the new array she could weave each diagnostic array into the spell itself, then use the self-reference to call back to the values in those arrays and use them to create the arrays needed for a Calm Emotions spell. She didn¡¯t need anything so complex here, though. She began constructing the spell meticulously. First, she created a set of three gathering arrays, but found them too energy-intensive. She then dismantled them and skillfully interwove the components into a single, more efficient array, each connection humming with latent power. It had instability in the dorsal connections, so she ripped out a segment of it and reworked it to be symmetrical. Slotting it back in, the first array vibrated with energy, and she moved on. The second would be one she¡¯d figured out on her own but had yet to experiment with. Various arrays she¡¯d worked with so far, and a number of elements within her tome, had depicted the methodology behind the adjusting of a spell''s aspect. She called it a reflavouring array, and that was the next to be layered into this spell. She took all of the energy she was gathering, and simply flavoured it as negative. Charged negative, not the esoteric Negative Energy type of Negative. Then, she started adding arrays from the Flare and Magic Missile spells, and to anyone around and watching, it would appear as if a great circle had started to faintly glow above Miriam¡¯s head. To those lucky observers, they would see her eyes reflecting a pale blue light, and darting back and forth as if reading something, even as her Staff moved in esoteric patterns and her left hand plucked and threw invisible somethings around. Even to those with magical inclination, her actions were foreign and nonsensical. Within Miriam¡¯s mind, everything finally made sense. She wasn¡¯t meant to make spells for later use. She was supposed to make spells to use now. As array after array was added, found wanting, and reforged into something new, she could faintly feel her cheeks start to hurt as a grin split across her face - as fast as she was, she was fighting against the stability of the spell, and she relished the competition. Even so, she was finally doing it. Playing the strings of reality like a priceless harp, plucking and trilling the components of physics into a composition that she found pleasing. It was a satisfaction she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d ever felt before, and even satisfied she pushed. If she didn¡¯t finish it in time, the spell would fail and take all of that MP with it. What it would do with that MP was unknown, but if she could just finish before that happened¡­ Her MP flashed past halfway, and the path to the end revealed itself in her mind¡¯s eye. 5 arrays folding in on each other, gathering small, energetic motes of energy and feeding them through the next series of arrays to ensure those motes did what they were supposed to. She locked in her final changes, turned her staff to the overcast sky, and infused her voice with the last of her MP to overcharge the spell. Either this would work on its own, or it would be enough to let the others finish the army off - either way, it would take the majority of her MP, so she would be out for the rest of this wave. Hopefully, she thought as she released the spell to the heavens and cried out, she could contribute properly now. ¡°Lightning Storm!¡± Her calculations were somewhat off, and blackness crept in from the edges of her vision as a glistening ball of arcane energy shot to the clouds above and detonated there, forming a grand array easily the size of their budding village. Streaking down from the array were a series of small bolts that sunk into a random assortment of the Raccan¡¯s, where a small shimmering orb popped into existence above their heads. Miriam was unable to see the results as she passed out. Even so, the battlefield was tilted as each of the Brutes found themselves with a mark..
¡°I¡¯ve got her!¡± Sarah shouted, voice cutting over the rain, but Mitchell¡¯s eyes were on the array above. He knew nothing about magic, nor about those symbols and circles Miriam seemed to use like blocks to build spells, but he was fairly certain they weren¡¯t intended to linger. Then the sky split in two and chaos reigned. A bolt of streaming lightning crashed down in the centre of the formation of Skirmishers, sending the small furred creatures scattering like bowling pins. The bolt crashed down into one unlucky skirmisher, and the sheer light from the strike seared itself into Mitchell¡¯s eyes. Or that¡¯s what it felt like, anyways, as the original lightning bolt lingered, anchoring itself to the ground where the original Skirmisher had been. Nothing remained of the creature. Then, small streamers of light shot out and danced through the air like a sparking, glowing stalk of seaweed, weaving and searching until one got too close to a Brute and then- Another bolt flashed out, from the main bolt that was rapidly glassifying the ground, and struck the Brute with the power of a cannon shot. The corpse - for it had died instantly - flew backwards and splintered into the surrounding trees with a prolonged crash. It was only for the briefest moment, as the flash of light lit up the forest, but Mitchel distinctly saw a dark figure dashing through the trees above the wreckage, a small quadrupedal shadow flitting behind him. ¡°John. George is in the trees, looks like he¡¯s breaking for the Shaman. I¡¯m gonna go give him a hand.¡± John looked back over his shoulder from where he held the widened shield. ¡°That¡¯s stupid, and he¡¯s stupid for sallying out. We have the wall. We can defend the wall much better than battle in open fields.¡± Mitchell unhooked his helmet from his belt and slipped it onto his head. His voice emerged muffled. ¡°I think we both know that Shaman types will have damage spells. After seeing what Miri could do at her level¡­ We need to take it down quick, before it can damage the wall. I¡¯m going.¡± With that, he dashed forwards past the line of shields and almost immediately the bulk of the Skirmishers switched targets to him. Running at a diagonal, he was able to read the arcs of the stones, no matter how difficult they were to pick out through the rain and against the grey sky. In an awkward, loping gait, he dodged what he could and blocked what he couldn¡¯t. Even as he was getting pelted, three Brutes split off to intercept him, leaving six behind to guard the Shaman. Mitchell cursed. He could not adjust his course in any way except towards the Shaman, and from the previous fight it would take all he had to take out just one of the Brutes. Even without adjusting his course, it was next to impossible to see the traps in the commotion and mud, and so he was largely avoiding them by memory. That would be impossible in a fight. Maybe if he got lucky he could take two of them, but with the traps, the ranged support, and the buff the Shaman placed on them making them as big as vehicles, he had to genuinely contemplate returning to the wall.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Then an arrow shaft grew from between the eyes of the leading Brute, stopping its momentum and sending it slipping into the mud, eyes dark and glassed over. That still left two, and in a flurry of pounding steps they arrived. Mitchell¡¯s shield arm was forced down by a devastating hammer blow, and he returned the attack with a draw cut on the offending arm, whirling around to deal with the second flanking Brute. That one seemed pre-occupied, wailing in pain as Kyla - when did she get here? - danced around it with her spear, prodding and jabbing, punishing every attempt by the Brute to get closer. He would not decry the assistance, and turned to his own opponent. He was just in time to see one of the small, dancing streamers of light drift a little too close and in a panic, hurled himself to the ground shield-first. ¡°Get down!!¡± He yelled out, aware that Kyla was beside him and may not have seen the impending strike, but that was all he had time for before his world vanished in a detonation of mud and light.
Things weren¡¯t looking good. George had been gone for not a minute, flanking around the back of the enemy formation, but by the time he¡¯d returned Miriam and Mitchell were both down, and Kyla was far out of position doing her best to keep the Brutes away from Mitchell¡¯s uncon- George reassessed as he watched his armoured friend slowly stagger to his feet. George aimed, drew, and released another arrow, sinking it into the back of the neck of one of the Skirmishers as it whirled its smouldering ammo around its head. It¡¯s body falling limp, the steaming stone skipped across the grass, landing in front of another Skirmisher who paused in its own slinging to look down with curiosity, only for it too to fall limp, dark wood sprouting from its chest. He was found at that point, and a Brute paired with two Skirmishers broke off from the formation to chase him down. Foolish, considering he¡¯d yet to see them even attempt to use the branchways. Then the Shaman chanted, the Brute¡¯s arms and claws extended a foot past what was normal, and George had to dodge as the creature leapt up into the tree he was in, rear feet splintering bark as the claws dug deep and both foreclaws swinging towards his head. George abandoned his next shot, driving the arrow deep into the Brute¡¯s forearm as he retreated to an adjacent tree. Nimbus tagged in, leaping towards the Brute with claws extended and mouth wide, and George¡¯s mind simultaneously snagged to a stop and fired into overdrive. The Brute was distracted by the arrow in its arm, which should allow Nimbus to land his strike. The key word was should, as even in the split second available, George was able to watch the Brute¡¯s eyes tracking his feline friend. With a hideous squelch, it ripped the arrow out, and with a bony crunch backhanded Nimbus away with the same motion. The cat yowled, falling through a few branches but catching himself on a lower branch just out of reach of the Skirmishers. A surge of fury blinded George, the sight of Nimbus''s pain igniting a primal rage within him. He charged forward, a fierce growl escaping his lips, ¡°You motherfucker!¡±
John briefly wondered what, if any, the Raccan¡¯s policies around prisoners were. That was all he had time for before the majority of the Army hit his line. With Mitchell down outside the wall and Kyla the only thing keeping his stunned ass alive, the Page needed Sarah, but Sarah was too valuable to let leave the walls on her own. He couldn¡¯t spare a single spear. Miriam was still down with exhaustion, which would hopefully be alright by the next wave, but he didn¡¯t count on it - it had taken her close to 6 hours to come back from draining her MP last time, which meant it wasn¡¯t unlikely she would be out until the Waves started coming back-to-back. George was stuck in a battle with some sort of augmented Brute, and his feat of managing that battle while still hopping through the branches of the trees was nothing short of miraculous in his eyes. Nimbus was nowhere to be seen. That only left Ezekiel, who was shooting arrow after arrow from atop the wall and steadily depleting the number of Skirmishers. In all, John figured the Archer was likely contributing the most to the defence, outside of his own wall and traps efforts. The key thing he was able to glean, right before his poor troops had to deal with a squad of Brutes, was that the Skirmishers were no longer shooting at him, which meant he could finally lower his shield. ¡°Legion, brace fo-¡± Chaos erupted. Roars from his men mingled with the hissing of the hulking beasts as they crashed against the shields. John¡¯s two Tiro, showing rare tactical acumen, planted their spears and aimed at the same berserking Raccan. The creature, too focused on its attack, failed to dodge. Its eyes widened in shock as the spears found their mark, and it slumped to the ground. They had struck a weak spot. Some deep part of his mind regressed from the desperate struggle, as he and his three men were pushed back and down by four huge monstrosities. Their bulky bodies were thrown against shield with abandon, their claws swiped and slashed and did all they could to break past the paltry wooden shields, but they somehow failed. John¡¯s body started to work on automatic, his shield bashing out to cover his Tiros flank, his Optio lunging forward with his own sword and driving the blade into the attackers ribs. It was not a kill shot, but with the rate of blood loss, it would be getting weaker and weaker as it used the last of its strength to try and pierce the barrier. That deep part of his mind spread out across his vision of the battlefield, the glances in between strikes, blocks, and parries. Locations sunk into his head, status checks updating and being catalogued, and within moments John had a clear picture of the battlefield. Half of the Skirmishers remained, though half of those were out of ammunition and were huddled by the Shaman. George and the altered Brute he fought were both showing signs of damage, but Nimbus had managed to take out the supporting Skirmishers, so John would have been willing to bet that George would come out ahead. He¡¯d only sparred with him once, but it was infuriating beyond belief how he managed to dodge every strike. Kyla and Mitchell held their ground admirably until one of the Brutes leapt for a gap in Mitchell¡¯s defence. The claw slashed at his torso, but when Mitchell clamped his arm down and took the hit to immobilise the creature, Kyla flashed forward and the tip of a spear erupted from the back of the Brute¡¯s skull. Another flash of blue-white lit up, and the second Brute they were fighting was flung into the forest by a jagged bolt of lightning as thick as a pop can, fur smoking. Unfortunately that still left four more for them to face off against, even if one was weakening. There was one in the trees with George, and with five dead, that meant there was only five left. Fortunately, that left the Shaman open. ¡°Mitchell!¡± John shouted out, even as one of his Tiros went down to a solid strike to his head. With the rain washing everything away, John couldn¡¯t tell how bad it was, but the man was unmoving in the pool of red. The odds quickly turned against him as the four Brutes concentrated their attacks on his left flank, pushing Jack backwards inch by gruelling inch. They wouldn¡¯t last long, and he was too pressed for time to even shout out a warning to the Page. John fell into the second-by-second thinking required for combat, and the rest of the battlefield faded away from his perception. He fought carefully, never over-extending, bashing his foes away with his shield only to be stopped from following up by another staggered attack. Claws slashed across his right bicep, cutting deep, and the next parry he made with his gladius had him dropping the weapon as the vibrations of the impact travelled up his arm and into the burning wound. The gladius was quickly trampled into the mud underfoot, and John swore, bashing once again with his shield and activating his Testudo skill once again, hoping to get a moment to grab his sword. Which is why he was unprepared as the shield pushed forwards, illusory red copies to either side, and bashed the entire squad of Brutes. Jack, finally getting a moment to breathe, snarled and drove his sword into the throat of one of the Brutes, killing it almost instantly, but in the rain he lost his grip on the weapon as the corpse fell backwards. That didn¡¯t stop him, as he grabbed the flimsy boards of his shield in two hands, raised it over his head, and fell on top of one of the downed Brutes. The other two were getting to their feet quickly and had eyes on Jack, so without a thought for his own safety John charged forwards and wrapped his arms around the Raccan, tackling it back to the ground. He knew there was another one getting up, and he wouldn¡¯t have long, so he let the fury slip over his mind. You dare touch them? A voice slipped through the red haze of battle, and John startled as he realised it was his own thoughts. It wasn¡¯t enough of a startle for him to lose his position, and even as hind claws scrabbled at his back, small lines of pain and agony butting against the overflow of emotion, he lifted a fist high. I will END you first! His fist slammed down with all of the power and authority he could muster, and with a wet crunch, powered through the skull and deep into the mud. He could feel the rising form of the other Brute, and tried to rise to his feet - but as he pulled, the jagged edges of the broken skull caught on his armour and threw off his balance, sending him tumbling to the mud. It likely saved his life, as a set of slashing claws skimmed through the air where his head had been a split second prior. He had enough time to turn, and see the feral, black eyes of the Raccan staring down at him in hunger. It lifted two arms high, claws glistening in the rain, and bellowed as it went to bring them down and disembowel the Centurion. John¡¯s arm was caught, and his shield too encased in mud to get it before him in time. He distantly thought this would be a good time to panic, but that distant part was drowned out by the bellowing of his internal voice. Get up! Fight! FIGHT! John could do no more than lash out with a foot, catching the side of the Raccan¡¯s knee. With his lack of leverage, the blow skittered off to the side, feeling like he had tried to kick a brick wall. He could see, almost in slow motion, what was happening in his peripheral. Jack, bleeding and with half his armour torn off, stood over the unmoving corpse of a Raccan Brute, weaponless but still taking the first steps towards helping John out. To his right, Sarah cast spell after spell on the downed Tiro, her face flushed with effort and lips speeding through incantations like an auctioneer would speed through bids. In the distance, out of his sight, he knew Mitchell and Kyla were after the Shaman and George was caught up in the trees against the mutated Brute. His other Tiro leaned against the wall, red pouring from his leg as he moaned in agony. In short, nobody was coming to save him. Which is why he was surprised when rather than bringing those deadly claws down, the Raccan on top of him sniffed, then he saw surprise in its eyes. He spared a brief moment to wonder why it was surprised, then scrambled out from underneath its frozen form, wiping the mud from his eyes to get his bearings properly. There, behind the Brute who had been about to disembowel him, stood the savage form of Kyla. She was breathing deeply, and he could see multiple slashes had gone through her thin leather armour, where they had cut through flesh and spilled her blood. Even now, her face seemed pale, but in that paleness was a fire and determination John had only seen once in the past week - when Mitchell had stepped before a raging bear to keep it away from Miriam. Her spear was driven deep into the monster''s back, piercing out through its chest. The eyes that were filled with surprise slowly glazed over, and the creature died as it fell. As Kyla also dropped to her knees and passed out, John staggered up, disturbed at the red that tinted the rain puddles on the battlefield. Two skirmishers limped towards the tree line, Mitchell faced off against the Shaman, and George was running full speed back towards the wall, cradling a black ball of fur in his arms. It was almost unnatural, seeing the Ranger sprint over the mud that was almost impossible to walk through, and at a speed higher than an Olympic sprinter would be capable of, but John¡¯s brain wasn¡¯t focussed on that. Prying his sword out of the mud and rolling Kyla over so she didn¡¯t drown, John began to move towards the fleeing Skirmishers, determined not to let any escape.
Mitchell stood alone before the Shaman, at least a hundred feet from the wall where the rest of the battle was dying down. The Raccan was clearly intelligent and capable of utilising strategy, so Mitchel had foregone his initial plan to just charge it and kill it. It had even drawn a dagger as he approached, and now held a staff in one hand and the bladed weapon in the other. As he was unable to retreat, and was unsure what circling would count as, he simply held his position. The Shaman hissed a warbling tune, and a greasy black bolt of energy flew from its staff, slower than an arrow but faster than a thrown spear. Mitchell raised his shield, and before he could second-guess the efficacy of blocking a magical spell with a shield, the bolt splashed against the metal of his shield and he felt a draining sensation, as if adrenaline had just worn off after he¡¯d run a marathon. Mitchell gasped, having already been tired from the brief but intense skirmish. However, another black bolt was on its way towards him, so he advanced diagonally, ensuring to not take any steps away from his foe. With the speed of the bolts, they should have been easy to dodge, but after that first impact he found his body sluggish and his reactions muted. As it was, he was barely staying ahead of where the bolts were flying, and then only because he was watching the staff and moving before the bolt was ever unleashed. The Raccan was smartening up, and was blasting bolts to prevent him from advancing. Out of ideas and growing more tired, Mitchell flung his shield out at the Shaman, who tried to sidestep it but still took a nasty hit to the shin when his foot stayed in the mud a split second longer than expected. It was enough. The curse of pain interrupted the Shaman¡¯s casting, and Mitchell dove on the opportunity. Dashing forwards, Mitchell¡¯s plan hit a snag when rather than another black bolt, the Shaman spat out three crude syllables and a sickly green shot from his staff straight into Mitchell¡¯s sword, which leapt from his hands twirling into the air before sinking blade first into the mud. A smug look - or what passes for one, Mitchell imagined, when it was a brand new species - plastered itself on the Shaman¡¯s face, and it began building up another black bolt. From Mitchell¡¯s perspective, he¡¯d felt almost no loss of effectiveness from losing the bladed weapon. Neither did the lack of shield bother him. Encased in steel as he was, he knew that he himself was a weapon, and it was this thought that travelled through his mind as he completed his charge. That, and the entirely new realm of options that opened up for him through his Weapon Mastery. He finally realised something important for his class. The sword was a sidearm. The shield, a tool for deflecting ranged attacks. It was him, his own body and power that was the driving combat force behind his class, and so he let himself use it. The Shaman had no chance. A muddy, gauntleted fist pierced through the rain and connected with the snout of a surprised Raccan. Another metal-clad hand grasped the fur at the base of its neck, and the Shaman only had time for a pained squeak before the mass of steel came crashing in, burying itself in the caster¡¯s soft stomach, causing the Raccan to retch pathetically. It tried to lash out with the dagger, but the blade skipped uselessly across the human¡¯s plate. The grabbing hand lifted, and the Shaman briefly felt its feet leave the ground, before it was thrust back down and slammed against the armoured figures knee. It felt bones break, and desperately tried to squeak out a surrender, but the grabbing hand tightened, and its airways were cut off. The hand squeezed tighter, and important tubes and passageways collapsed. The leader of the small group of Raccan¡¯s realised it would die, and looked up into the eyes of its killer. It saw only a grim, dirty helmet, the eye-slits enclosed in shadow. As the darkness drew in from the edges of its vision, it thought it saw a faint blue spark, deep within the helm. That faint blue spark was the casters only thought as it died, and the area surrounding the wall finally went quiet, save for the pouring rain. 18. Unbearable ¡°Medic!¡± John called out, ¡°Sarah, get down here!!¡± ¡°But it¡¯s muddy, bring the-¡± ¡°Get down here now.¡± Sarah gulped, and scrambled down from her tower. It would take forever to dry her robes back out, and within moments they were soaked through. She¡¯d only just gotten out of the rain, too, after healing one of the soldiers. John was never like this, not with her. He was calm, kind, and understanding. Right now, though, she could tell she wasn''t his priority, and a pang of ugly emotion ran through her even as she suppressed it. There was work to do, and she didn¡¯t even pause by John before making her way outside of the walls and to Kyla. ¡°Out of Stamina. She needs rest, and that¡¯s it.¡± Within seconds she¡¯d moved on, making her way back to the gate to see to the injured soldier. A hand on her shoulder cut her walk short, and she jumped, whirling around and swinging with her staff. George was easily able to dodge out of the way, and her follow-up froze when she realised who it was, and what he had in his arms. ¡°Please.¡± George choked out, lifting the bundle of black fur towards her. ¡°You have to do something. He¡¯s not waking up. Please.¡± Sarah¡¯s eyes narrowed in on the large cat. With her Animal Empathy skill, she could tell that Nimbus was in a lot of pain, and George¡¯s jostling wasn¡¯t helping. She whipped her outer robe off - grateful the bulky cloth was in multiple pieces - and laid it down on the ground, the minor enchantments keeping the inside at least free from the mud. With a pointed gesture, she pointed towards the impromptu surface as she rolled up her sleeves and cast a quick disinfectant spell to get her hands clean. Rain fell on them immediately after, but this was the best she was going to get. She kneeled on the cloth next to Nimbus, momentarily squirming at the sensation of the mud parting between her knees, but not sinking into the earth. He was lying at an awkward angle, breathing laboured, and a quick Diagnose showed her the extent of the damage. Nimbus (Familiar) HP: 3/65* Conditions: Concussed (Minor) Internal Bleeding (Minor) Broken Bones - Ribs x4 Fractured Bones - Ribs x8 Fractured Bones - Spinal Disc x2 *Familiar - On death, a familiar reforms within 24 hours. This is a new template, and will not have the experience of the deceased familiar, though will be the same level and creature type. Sarah didn¡¯t even bother bringing that last part up. She knew George wouldn¡¯t like the implication of even raising the option, and so she didn¡¯t. Besides, a few broken bones wasn¡¯t too bad. All the blood was even on the inside, where it was supposed to be. She could do this. With an eye on her MP, which had continued to regenerate drastically, at a rate that it would take just over five minutes to refill, Sarah began to cast. First, it was an easy matter to sweep through with just under a dozen castings of skeletal Mending, and as the Fractured Bones dropped off of the diagnosis, some of her rushing thoughts organised and she was ready to move on. Second, she cast Hemo-rejuvenation, to help replace some of the blood lost internally. Her eyes widened as she saw Nimbus¡¯ stomach begin to swell. The extra blood must have nowhere to go! ¡°George, knife, now!¡± She shouted, cutting off the spell. In the corner of her eye, the Diagnose display flickered, new conditions popping up rapidly until the hilt of a dagger was pressed into her hand and she made a small incision in the stomach. Like a bursting blister, a small wave of blood splashed out from Nimbus¡¯ unmoving form, soaking through her outer robes. Gritting her teeth, she made a few quick observations. The first was that she was running low on MP. It would regenerate quickly enough, but right now she was low. She would have to be smart about her next series of spells. The second was that she lacked any sort of spell to reset bone, so she¡¯d have to do it manually. She pondered her character sheet, trying to plan how she¡¯d help the poor cat. Name: Sarah Forrest Race: Human (F) Class: Healer 12 Secondary Class: Animal Handler 12 Analyze: Diagnose (Increased effectiveness on blessings, curses, and status) Race Level: 12 HP: 165 MP: 112 SP: 135 STATS STR 12 FOR 12 AGI 12 REF 12 VIT 35 CON 35 INT 44** WIL 42** INS 70** CHA 15 Equipment: Chitinscald Gauntlets Human Skills: Common Ancestor Duality of Man Species Progenitor Primary Class Skills: Spellcasting Mastery Healing Aspect Secondary Class Skills: Animal Empathy Practised Hands Healer Spells: Adrenal Response Hemo-Rejuvenation Flush Toxins Rad-Remove Calm Mind Align Humours Skeletal Mending (Breaker of Bones) Accelerate Process Extract Esoteric Fortify Immunities Diagnosis Disinfect/Regen Flesh Bond A deep part of Sarah¡¯s mind was revolting at the blood, and hammering her with guilt over cutting into the cat, but she pressed forward. ¡°George, you might want to leave. I¡®m going to have to-¡± Her breath caught, realising what she was about to say. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to do surgery.¡± The Ranger dropped to his knees by her side, eyes haunted but determined. ¡°Whatever we have to do, just let me know how to help.¡± Sarah swallowed thickly. ¡°Just¡­ hold him down. If he wakes up while I¡¯m doing it, he¡¯ll panic, and that could do much more damage than he has now.¡± George leaned forward and gathered Nimbus¡¯ legs, holding them down onto the blood-soaked cloth. ¡°Good, now just stretch him out, like he¡¯s mid-leap. Slowly! Slowly. He still has broken ribs, and I¡¯m guessing one of those caused the internal bleeding.¡± Sarah resisted the urge to wipe the rain from her face, well aware her hands were much dirtier. Sarah took a deep breath, then cast another cleaning spell on her shaking hands. With a count to three, she dove in.
Later, the group met in the longhouse to dry out their clothes and discuss their next steps and further preparations. ¡°A half hour,¡± Mitchell stated, ¡°That¡¯s how long we get until the next wave. Miri, you going to be good on MP?¡± Miriam sat in the longhall in her underclothes, robes drying by the fire. It was a state of dress most of them were in. George had even offered to let Kyla and Ezekiel come in to dry out, though the man himself was sat in the corner with a black bundle of fur in his lap, occasionally muttering softly to it and stroking its fur. Nimbus had taken quite the hit out there, and was slow to recover. ¡°I¡¯m doing okay. Bit of a headache, but it¡¯s fading as my points regen.¡± That was a bit of an understatement. She was fighting back a piercing migraine, and even the crackling of the fire felt like red-hot needles driving through her brain. Luckily, she¡¯d done a bit of maths - which came much easier to her than it had Before - and came to the conclusion that she would have full MP again in just over another hour. Name: Miriam Agnello Race: Human (F) Primary Class: Arcane Acolyte 15 Secondary Class: Enchanter 6 Analyze: Scan (Effective on magical creatures and goods) Race Level: 10 HP: 95 MP: 253 SP: 65 STATS STR 10 FOR 10 AGI 33* REF 14 VIT 11 CON 10 INT 81*** WIL 57** INS 29* CHA 10 Human Skills: Common Ancestor Duality of Man Species Progenitor Primary Class Skills: Spellcasting Mastery Mage Armour Mana Efficiency Secondary Class Skills: Rune Mastery Spellbook: Flare Gun - Fires a firework that lingers in the sky to provide light. Levitate - a basic levitation spell. Magic Dart - a basic magical ranged attack Lightning Totem - Creates a pillar of lightning that will randomly reach out and strike creatures in range. Her MP regen was fuelled by her Willpower, and in total should have taken roughly ten minutes to charge up. However the pace was glacial, about ten times slower, so she imagined that was the cost of running completely out of MP - well, that and the fainting. ¡°Good.¡± Mitchell continued. ¡°Is that lightning spell something you can repeat?¡± Miriam winced. ¡°Barely. I actually took some HP damage as I cast it, so I¡¯d prefer not to until I figure out why that was. Ideally, I¡¯d fix it. I was trying to call down a lightning storm. Don¡¯t rely on it, though. I can do Flare twice now, or spam Magic Darts, as they only need 4 MP from me to cast. With a cast rate of approximately 7 per minute, I can keep my MP close to full if it¡¯s needed.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the best, but better to have you available in an emergency. Archers, how was the battle?¡± With a look over at a distracted George, Ezekiel leaned forward on his bench. ¡°It felt easy. Much easier than any fight we¡¯ve had before.¡± Kyla scoffed. ¡°Speak for yourself, pansy. You weren¡¯t down in the mud with us.¡± Mitchell raised a hand to quell the retort. ¡°Kyla, you¡¯re a ferocious fighter, and I don¡¯t forget the aid you rendered when I was in need. However, this is the place for meetings of strategy and policy. Do you feel Ezekiel¡¯s contribution so little that we should break from this meeting to resolve the issue?¡± Kyla settled back onto the bench, with a glance towards her steaming clothes. ¡°Nah, champ. Just grumbling.¡± Mitchell nodded, the faintest hints of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Good. It would have to wait until after the siege anyways. Anything more to add, Ezekiel?¡± ¡°Only that you should train a couple of your villagers with bows, but I don¡¯t know the whole story.¡± ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Sarah answered firmly, even as she wrung her hands. ¡°They came for a better life, a place to live safe. We won¡¯t repay that by pressing them into combat. Quite a few have noticed that already, and are all the more loyal to Old Milltown because of it.¡± ¡°That brings us to our next point,¡± Mitchell waved in Sarah¡¯s direction, ¡°in regards to our Support Corps. How are they doing? Our fighters definitely think well of them - food will do that for most soldiers - but what do you think?¡± Sarah sighed. ¡°We should cut the numbers by half. We have citizens, but soldiers don¡¯t need personal servants. John - well, I¡¯ll let him explain.¡± John placed his hand on Sarah¡¯s shoulder, then stood. ¡°I agree. We have too much support for our number of fighters. I know we won¡¯t get anyone else until the morning, but we need cooks, armourers, tailors, hunters - I plan to build a legion, and every legion needs a camp of followers to keep in top shape. After the siege I¡¯ll offer training for more Tiros, but you could cut out half the Support Corps, get them started on more housing, latrines, clearing land, gathering lumber¡­ You¡¯re neglecting the town in favour of the battle.¡± Mitchell hummed. A flash of anger swelled up at the implication that he was being neglectful, but in all honesty he likely was. With a brief note to himself to see if Miriam could enchant the Calm spell into his chair, he responded. ¡°See it done. Those with applicable skills can bow out of the Support Corps to work on village building projects. Better, see if you can¡¯t make a list of available classes, and we¡¯ll see if that doesn¡¯t help shape our development after the siege.¡± Sarah nodded. ¡°George. Explain your view of the battle.¡± George didn¡¯t stand, nor acknowledge the question beyond his wooden response. ¡°I started by attempting to shoot the Shaman. Shot blocked by other troops, so I flanked through the woods. One of the Brutes came at me, got Nimbus, we retreated. That¡¯s it.¡± Mitchell frowned, dismissing the terse reply. ¡°Alright. Lastly, John - what¡¯s the status of your troops?¡± ¡°Centurion is ready to rock, Optio is doing well, one of my Tiros will need to sit the next one out though. We could also use gear upgrades, but that¡¯s for after. Once this is all done, we¡¯ll need to explore a budget.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Mitchell sighed. ¡°Yes, we will. Distribution is one of the options that¡¯s greyed out until the next Settlement level, which I¡¯m working on. We¡¯ll eventually be pulling in money, so the System makes sure it goes to the right place. I have to say, the ability to root out any sort of middle-man corruption should be invaluable.¡± He looked around the room. ¡°Any further concerns or comments, or do we move on to the fun part?¡± Miriam went first, clearly waiting for this. ¡°I got a few skills. Acolyte got me my Spellcasting, I got a premade spell called Mage Armour - and I¡¯m glad its premade as it¡¯s complicated as all hell - and I just got a new skill called Mana Efficiency, which should be self explanatory but I haven¡¯t tested it yet. Enchanter - despite being a sexist class name that should really be Enchantress - gave me Rune Mastery, which is basically like converting arrays from English into Heiroglyphics, in the simplest explanation. It¡¯s been hard to level.¡± ¡°Nice. Self-cleaning toilets, here we come.¡± John joked. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll just enchant your head to cut off all your hair every morning?¡± Miriam said sweetly. ¡°Wow, enchanting! Can¡¯t wait for you to unlock the mysteries of the universe.¡± John corrected quickly. ¡°I think you just volunteered to go next.¡± Sarah quipped, and John nodded in acceptance. ¡°Not as much as Miriam, but I have weapons from my primary, then I got Testudo which you¡¯ve all seen, and after that last wave I gained 2 levels and got a new skill called Hold the Line, which is supposed to buff allies when we hold a position. Carpenter got me Tool Mastery - which applies to axes, planes, levels, and all sorts of carpentry tools - and I also picked up my level 10 skill called Woodfuse. I can join wood together without the need for a joint or nails.¡± ¡°Did you-¡± ¡°Yes, I already fused the wall. It was a toss-up whether or not it would be effective, but it gave me experience for the class so I did it.¡± ¡°Alright then. You¡¯ll cover the gate again during the next wave, I imagine?¡± John nodded, determined. ¡°They won¡¯t get through.¡± ¡°Good. George, did you pick up anything big recently?¡± ¡°Primary was weapons, then I picked up Dodge at 10 and Tracking at 15. Secondary gave me Cooking mastery, and I got Quality Ingredients after breakfast this morning, which increases the quality of my cooked foods by one step. Whatever that means. Next.¡± Mitchell frowned. George was clearly concerned about his cat, but Sarah had fixed Nimbus up. It was tight, he¡¯d heard. ¡°Sarah?¡± She gave a tired smile. ¡°You were there for most of my healing stuff but for the group - Primary gave me Spellcasting, then Healing Aspect at 10 which reduces costs of my bio spells intended to repair rather than injure. Secondary gave me some limited Animal Empathy, then after my surgery earlier, I got 3 more levels and the Practised Hands skill, which makes all my care and aid efforts more effective. Oh and George? Nimbus is worried about you.¡± George almost fell off his chair. ¡°Me?! You sure that¡¯s working right?¡± Sarah smiled softly. ¡°Almost positive. I can¡¯t read thoughts, but the biggest feelings I get off of him are guilt and worry. Given that the worry spikes whenever you speak, I felt it was a safe assumption. What I don¡¯t feel any of, is pain. He¡¯s alright, George. He¡¯s going to be alright.¡± George lifted the bundle of fur and hugged Nimbus tightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry buddy. You did great. You did so great, I couldn¡¯t have done it without you. You¡¯ve earned at least three whole fish, whatever kind you want.¡± ¡°Aaaand now he¡¯s back to smug. Quite the character, aren¡¯tcha?¡± Sarah cooed at the cat, and Mitchell finally cleared his throat. ¡°As glad as we all are to hear Nimbus will be alright, I think we¡¯re almost done. Ezekiel, Kyla. I won¡¯t force you, but I do have to admit that hiding these things will make me suspicious. Are you comfortable sharing your classes and skills?¡± Ezekiel shrugged. ¡°Nothing big from me. I¡¯m an Archer. Hit level 15 in that last fight. I have Weapon Mastery as my 5 skill, Steady Aim for my 10 skill, and just got Battlefield Awareness, which it says gives me increased intuition when it comes to the timing and placement of my shots.¡± ¡°And your secondary?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t have one yet.¡± He responded tightly. ¡°From the sounds of things, those are non-combat classes. We haven¡¯t really done much else. Kyla doesn¡¯t have one either.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± The named woman confirmed. ¡°I¡¯ve just got Warrior, but I¡¯m at 21. Weapon Mastery like everyone else at 5, Swift Step to help me move around the battlefield at 10, Strengthened Weapon at 15 to enhance the durability of any weapon I¡¯m using, then I just picked up Piercing Strike, which can go through a small amount of armour.¡± ¡°And no secondary class.¡± John asked to confirm, and received a nod. ¡°Don¡¯t need ¡®em right now. We aren¡¯t gonna stop and craft in the middle of a siege.¡± Kyla answered. Mitchell sighed again. Another choice loomed before him, though this one was easy. ¡°Let me explain my classes, and maybe you¡¯ll start to see why we kicked your guys collective ass the first time you came around.¡± He stood, and strode over to the System Glass, as they¡¯d started calling the odd mirror in the main hall. He pulled up his status screen for all to see. Name: Mitchell LeFleur Race: Human (F) Primary Class: Page of the March 15 Secondary Class: Aspiring Clan Leader 12 Analyze: Intuit Race Level: 13 HP: 220 MP: 91 SP: 190 STATS STR 54 FOR 63 AGI 18 REF 18 VIT 36 CON 42 INT 27 WIL 103 INS 26 CHA 43 Human Skills: Common Ancestor Duality of Man Species Progenitor Primary Class Skills: Weapon Mastery Guard Inspire Courage Secondary Class Skills: Settlement Management Diplomacy Mitchell stood beside his displayed Status, waiting for- ¡°Over a hundred?!¡± George exclaimed. ¡°How the hell?¡± ¡°My highest is 81!¡± John shouted. ¡°And that¡¯s in my Strength, how do you have 50? And 60 Fortitude?!¡± Miriam mumbled. ¡°Same as my Int¡­¡± Mitchell raised a hand. ¡°Listen. We don¡¯t know how much of an impact Willpower has. As it stands, I recharge my MP quick, and that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°Willpower also helps you resist mental effects.¡± Ezekiel added. ¡°Singh¡¯s social skills targeted Willpower against his Charisma.¡± ¡°Okay, I recharge my MP quick, and I¡¯m a stubborn bastard. So be it. Though it seems it¡¯s clear from your reactions - especially you two - that my stats are a bit higher than everyone elses.¡± ¡°My INT is higher.¡± Miriam stated. ¡°Than yours is, by the way, not more than your Will.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got higher Strength¡­ and Reflex, and Agility, and Instinct, and Charis- you know what, I¡¯m all of a sudden not as upset.¡± John answered. ¡°Agility, Reflex, Instinct for me.¡± George interjected. ¡°Damn, you¡¯re a slow one, eh Mitch?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got Instinct and Intelligence over him, but Miriam¡¯s got me beat on that front.¡± Sarah admitted. ¡°All of them.¡± Kyla despondently cut in. ¡°Every single stat, you out-do me in. I¡¯m level 21, how is that possible? I have like, ten levels on you!¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°That¡¯s my point. Your secondary class gives stats as well, and you can¡¯t level up your race without a secondary class, which also gives stats. You¡¯re likely working off of¡­ four or five stats per level?¡± Kyla grimaced. ¡°Two each of Strength, Agility, and Vitality, then one each of Fortitude, Reflex, and Constitution.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll break my classes down, though keep in mind the System told me these were ¡®Very Rare¡¯ classes, and they are quite hard to level. My Page class grants me 5 Willpower, 3 each of Strength and Fortitude, and 2 Constitution for 13 total points per level. My Clan Leader class gives me 3 each of Charisma and Willpower, 2 Vitality, then a single Instinct, Intelligence, and Fortitude point. Human gets all of us a single stat point in each stat for each level. So If I level each of my classes once, I get 9 Will, 5 Fort, 4 Strength and Charisma, 3 Con and Vitality, 2 Instinct and Intelligence, and 1 of Agility and Reflex. That¡¯s 34 points, for two levels.¡± ¡°I get 28 points.¡± Miriam offered to cut off any complaints. ¡°But I¡¯m not forbidden from retreating, and can gain experience by just enchanting stuff. He¡¯s gotta run a village.¡± John started unsteadily. ¡°I get 29, I think.¡± ¡°24.¡± George pouted. ¡°At least they¡¯re easy to level.¡± ¡°Nimbus is growing too.¡± Miriam pointed out. ¡°You might be giving him some of your stats.¡± ¡°26 for me.¡± Sarah said with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m fine in the middle of the pack.¡± Ezekiel spat out his own answer. ¡°9 points. 9 points across 4 stats.¡± ¡°19.¡± Miriam responded automatically. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that each of those levels will be boosting your race, for ten more stats. They¡¯re just conditional on you getting a second class.¡± ¡°Nine points seems like a good amount.¡± John contributed. ¡°Seems like Mitch has the top class with his Page at 13 points per level. I get 12 from Centurion, but I only get 7 from my secondary where he gets 11.¡± ¡°So what does that mean for us? How can we use that?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°Well it seems simple to me.¡± Mitch said, and the conversation quieted to listen to him. Mitchell felt a pang of discomfort at the attention, but pressed onwards. ¡°Our best defences during the last wave were us, and mainly due to having two classes. I would like to extend that offer to our newest members of the Clan, should they decide they wish to stay with us afterwards.¡± ¡°What, to fight in the defence? We¡¯re already doing that, and you said we didn¡¯t have to stay. Are you going back on that?¡± Kyla challenged, her hands curling into tight fists. Mitchell shook his head. ¡°No. I am offering something new in recognition of your skills and contributions. We were lucky that nobody died during the attack - I cannot say that luck would have held without you two here with us. Kyla, you personally forayed out the gates with me, and knowing what I do of your stats now, that has to be one of the bravest things I¡¯ve seen yet. You fought with us faithfully and with conviction - I would see you gain in power, both for your own agency and for the might of our village.¡± ¡°So, what? You give us a second class if we agree to be conscripted?¡± Ezekiel asked thoughtfully. ¡°Nothing so draconic.¡± Miriam offered, glancing to her fiance and urging him to explain himself. ¡°My offer is this:¡± Mitchell stated. ¡°Join us as Inner Members of the Clan. Become a part of our founding, contribute to the living in and thriving of this village, represent our beliefs and follow our laws. In return, I offer you this: Any member of our clan will be as family to us - we will fight your battles, feed your family, labour in your fields. As surely as the sun rises, you may be certain that when you come across hardships, we will not abandon you or see you suffer alone. As a part of that, we will share what we¡¯ve learned of the System, just as we expect you to reveal any insights you may find on your own.¡± There was quiet as the room turned to the pair to await their response. Ezekiel was first to speak. ¡°I was not happy with our first group,¡± he began, ¡°mainly because I¡¯d hoped to make a new start. I was naive, and because we listened to Singh, Jacob is dead. He was the best of us, and I think if he were here now, he would take your offer, purely for the chance to keep more people safe and work for the benefit of those who can¡¯t fight themselves. And that is something I¡¯ll try to honour. Even if he¡¯s no longer here, I can try to be the kind of person he wished we were. You have my bow, Mitchell. Even if it is leagues weaker than your own archer, I will fight with all I have - in Jacobs name.¡± Kyla scoffed. ¡°How the hell am I supposed to follow that? I¡¯m joining too, of course, but on one condition - you give us Singh.¡± Mitchell hummed, prepared to deny, but Miriam nudged his arm and nodded to the screen where his status was still displayed. Mainly, his Willpower score. With a thought, he changed his mind. ¡°Deal. He committed the greatest crimes against you - that of betrayed loyalty. You trusted him and he lead your group to ruin. However, I have one condition - Singh will not leave that mill until we have a prison, and I will be present for your interactions. It¡¯s not a matter of trust, but of policy. It¡¯s the early stages of our formation and Singh is our first criminal - I don¡¯t want to set an aspect of our culture by accident. Other than that, his sentence will be yours to dispense.¡± Kyla smiled darkly. ¡°Trust me, he won¡¯t be leaving.¡±
¡°Oh ho! You¡¯ve finally come to rescue me! Took you long enough, but I suppose I won¡¯t complain. Did either of you kill the asshole who took my swor-¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Mitchell revealed with a small measure of glee as he followed Ezekiel and Kyla into the old mill. The roof sagged in places, and steady drips of water created small puddles on the cobbled floor. ¡°Our Ranger has your sword, but it¡¯s kinda shitty so he doesn¡¯t use it much. Makes a great meat skewer though.¡± Singh¡¯s face darkened. He sat on the hard floor, his gag spat out and hanging limply around his neck. ¡°Put it back in my hands and I¡¯ll show you how it skewers meat.¡± A crack sounded through the room as Ezekiels fist impacted the right side of Singh¡¯s face, snapping his head to the side. Ezekiel grabbed his hair and turned his captor to look him in the eye. ¡°Jacob is dead. Without these people, Kyla would be dead. How, by the grace of God himself, are you the motherfucker that got to live when he didn¡¯t?¡± Singh shrugged with a chuckle, spitting blood out onto Ezekiel¡¯s shirt. ¡°Clearly I¡¯m just built different.¡± Kyla was staring down at him with a frown. Ezekiel pushed Singh¡¯s back, banging his skull against the stone wall. ¡°I can agree with that. You know, Mitchell has decided to let us determine your fate, so I¡¯d quit the attitude if I were you. Right now, my best idea is a long walk off a short pier.¡± Singh rolled his eyes. ¡°Let me know when you find a pier.¡± Mitchell raised a hand. ¡°2 days from now we¡¯ll have one built. I don¡¯t mind letting Ezekiel here test it.¡± Singh glared over at Mitchell. ¡°Oh great, the head asshole is sticking around. Tell me, does every member of your little group lack spine, and that¡¯s why you needed my friends to-¡± Blood spattered against the wall as Singh¡¯s head cracked back. Mitchell shook out his fist, while Kyla and Ezekiel shared a surprised look. He¡¯d moved fast. ¡°We do not lack spine. If anyone does, it¡¯s me - I refused to let them just kill you for your attack on our walls. Enough people have already died, and more die each day. I don¡¯t know what the System is, but when it came, you took the opportunity to put down your fellow man rather than lift him up. For that, you are incompatible with our village, our people, and our way of life. Does that make you deserving of death? I do not know.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Ezekiel spat out. Singh scoffed. ¡°Look at you, making speeches at me. Do you think if you talk all fancy, it makes you more important?¡± Mitchell nodded deliberately. ¡°Than you? Yes. Ezekiel, Kyla - I¡¯ll be waiting just outside the door. Please do not sentence him now - I would prefer to do it after our battles, when our people have recovered.¡± With that, Mitchell left, Kyla followed, and Ezekiel sat across the small, dank room from Singh, and sharpened a dagger. Outside in the rain, Kyla nudged Mitchell, marvelling that he didn¡¯t move even an inch. ¡°So. A second class. How do I get one?¡± The Page of the March ran his hand over his rain covered face. ¡°It¡¯s no grand secret. From what we can tell, you simply need to try to do something that isn¡¯t combat related, and succeed. John got Carpenter by cutting and processing trees for our wall. I got my Leader class by activating the Settlement Stone. Miriam just tried to put an array on a piece of wood and blew it up, until she didn¡¯t. What I can tell you, though, is that some of us wish we¡¯d put more thought into it. I imagine that George would give back Cook if he could. Not that his food isn¡¯t great, but it¡¯s a lower-tier class from the amount of points it gives him.¡± ¡°So what, just ponder until I get to choose a rarer class?¡± Mitchell grimaced. ¡°You don¡¯t actually get to choose. I¡¯m just saying that if your build is mostly physical, you can work on a more social or intellectual second class to round out your stats, or you could get a physical labour class to double down on the physical. Just keep that in mind when you¡¯re brainstorming. Also, be sure of what you want. I think that in times of peace, our secondary classes will our main contribution to the village.¡± Kyla hummed. ¡°What do you need?¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°Pardon?¡± Kyla scoffed. ¡°What do you wish I had? You¡¯re making us Inner Members. From what you said before the last fight, that¡¯s a big deal. I want to make sure you don¡¯t regret it, even if I don¡¯t exactly know what an Inner Member is or does. So, what does the village need?¡± ¡°Honestly? I need someone who¡¯s actually good at or knows about starting an entire nation from scratch. The village can only be a village for so long with the levels of growth it¡¯ll level into.¡± Kyla shrugged. ¡°I played a few strategy games, but that¡¯s about it. I could definitely optimise your tech tree research-¡± ¡°No tech tree.¡± Mitchell interrupted. ¡°Fine, I can take care of diplomacy then.¡± Mitchell shook his head again. ¡°Literally one of my class skills.¡± ¡°So what, you want a secretar- God damnit.¡± Kyla almost looked dejected as a soft golden glow suffused her skin from within, quickly travelling up to her head and fading. Mitchell¡¯s eyes widened at the screen that popped up before him, casting an almost pleasant blue light on the surrounding rain. ¡°Did you¡­¡± Kyla nodded, lips pressed tight. You have received a request. Kyla Turner has requested to be your Personal Aide in your capacity as Aspiring Clan Leader of Old Mill Town village. Relevant Skills: Doc-Jockey Relevant Class: Administrator Do you wish to accept? WARNING: Doing so while village parameters are as they currently are will promote your Personal Aide to the Inner Members of your Clan. Mitchell easily accepted, blinking twice when there was another pop-up. Core: 6/6 Inner Members: 1/20 Outer Members: 3/50 Aspirants: 36/500 Total Population: 46/576 ¡°So¡­¡± Kyla let out with a dash of uncertainty. Mitchell laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. ¡°Thank you for your sacrifice. We¡¯ll go over what exactly it is you¡¯ll do after the battles, but you should have gotten a stat boost for hitting your first level in the class - which starts at 5, for some weird reason - and a few race levels out of it.¡± Kyla nodded with a savage grin lighting her face. ¡°Instinct, Intelligence, and Charisma. 2, 3, and 5! Not to mention Race levels. C¡¯mon, boss, let¡¯s go administrate some stuff!¡±
Ezekiel stared at his former friend. ¡°When you first showed up with Jacob, he said you were a good guy, and I trusted him.¡± Singh, in an uncharacteristic display of sincerity, agreed. ¡°He was always a trustworthy fellow. I¡¯d have believed him too.¡± ¡°But you aren¡¯t, are you? How much did it hurt you, when we went down to volunteer at the soup kitchen? When we would do charity fundraisers with Jacob?¡± Singh looked hurt. ¡°I¡¯m not a monster, Zeke. You¡¯re making me out to be some sort of baby-eating, puppy-kicking asshole.¡± ¡°You advocated murder in what could only be called a natural disaster dialled up to 11.¡± Ezekiel said flatly. ¡°Your persuasion directly lead to Jacob¡¯s death. He was my best friend, and listening to you killed him.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who swung the sword.¡± Singh protested. ¡°No. The one who swung the sword was a man I¡¯ve come to respect, if not know very well. A man who put his life on the line not to get something for himself, but to ensure some leech didn¡¯t take from the people he cared about. All of them, you should see them fight. It¡¯s like¡­ they either don¡¯t care about their lives, or they just.. Trust one another so deeply, they know they¡¯re covered. Even Kyla bought in. She took enough damage to pass out but she saved John¡¯s life. The man who killed her cousin. Do you know why she did that?¡± Singh shook his head, an ache forming from his earlier beating. ¡°She told me after she¡¯d gotten healed back up. She said that the only thing she¡¯d done since we got here was make things worse, and that if she¡¯d died from her wound, she would have deserved it, and died unmourned. She said that she would have deserved it, but this group didn¡¯t agree. They sent one of their fighters to protect us during the first wave, only one night after we tried to kill them all and take their home. Then she told me this, she said: ¡®Ezekiel, if I only do one more thing with my life, I want to do something to make sure that someone writes something good on my gravestone.¡¯ It broke my god damn heart to hear that. So, Singh. Thank you, for being an irredeemable asshole. Without your bullshit, Kyla might not have decided to make that turn, and she¡¯s seemed much happier since, even if she¡¯s been injured more times in the last three days than we had our whole lives. That said, I will kill you. I¡¯ll do it right, and properly, and legal by the code of this place. I just wanted you to know that when your life ends, and it will soon, it will be me holding the blade, and I will not make you suffer.¡± Singh held his tongue as Ezekiel left, realising for the first time that he truly had no hope of rescue.
The rain was finally beginning to let up, though the puddles and mud would be around long after the end of the deluge. Sarah had worked her magic bringing everyone back to health, even replenishing blood lost to let the more wounded rejoin the fight without dizziness. Her skill as a Healer was only growing. Miriam wasn¡¯t quite recharged yet, but she still stood up on the wall, ready to unleash everything she had gained if there was an emergency, Ezekiel had yet to find his second class, despite receiving the same insights that Mitchell gave to Kyla. Kyla had quickly levelled her Administrator class by organising the small group of Aspirants and putting them on a list, then gathering their skills and assigning them to the Support Corps or the newly formed Development Corps. Now, she stood among them with enough stats to fight on equal ground. Mitchell stood at the gate by John¡¯s formed up mini-Legion, ready to foray outwards as soon as he saw a path to victory, yet still worried about another Shaman showing up and buffing the forces beyond his ability to deal with. Then the timer ran out, and Mitchell saw there was not a single Shaman. No, there were three Shamans, lead by a taller, muscular Raccan outfitted with a crossbow, a sword, and dark leather armour. Skirmishers and Brutes forced their way out of the trees until the land outside the gates swarmed with Raccans, at least a hundred of them. Raccan Commando Disposition: Hostile Mitchell would never admit it, but as the Commando¡¯s clearly intelligent eyes swept the battlefield and lingered on him, he felt a cold chill run down his spine, even as another pop-up appeared. Intimidation Resisted! ¡°Good thing I set more traps while y¡¯all were goofing around playing city builder.¡± George snarked, and that was all there was time for before the small army of Raccan¡¯s surged forward like a wave. 19. Siege ¡°Well that¡¯s not good.¡± George muttered from where he stood atop the wall. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, though the ground was slick with mud. Also thankfully, the sun was out of his eyes as it crept towards the horizon. In a final act of thanks, George scratched Nimbus behind the ear, fighting down the worry he¡¯d felt earlier and the anxiety of the coming battle. The Raccan Commando barked something and gestured to each side. The army split, and began to encircle the walls. ¡°Oh, no, that¡¯s explicitly bad.¡± George corrected himself. ¡°Oi, John! They¡¯re-¡± ¡°Trying to flank us, I know. It should be fine so long as they can¡¯t get over the walls.¡± George let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°One of them fought me in the branchways. I don¡¯t think a wooden wall is gonna hold them off for long.¡± ¡°In the what?¡± Sarah muttered to Miriam, who despite her squinting eyes and thin sheen of sweat, was still out with the rest of them at the north gate. ¡°In the trees,¡± John answered her, ¡°And that¡¯s a good point George. Legion! Fall back to the longhouse and keep your ears open! We¡¯ll run quick response. Oi, Mitchell!¡± The man in full plate stood impassively in front of the gate, eyes locked on the opposing Commando. A slight tilt of the head showed John that he was listening. ¡°We¡¯re going to head back, holler if and where you need us.¡± The helmet nodded, and turned back towards the enemy. John took his two Tiros and his Optio and left for the centre of town. The choice was made for more than one reason - the population of the village was taking shelter in the Clan house, so he felt obligated to protect them. George frowned. Less troops, more space to cover. The situation looked bleak. With a sigh, Mitchell stepped forwards. ¡°Might as well try it¡­¡± He mumbled, before clearing his throat. ¡°Hold, Raccan Representative! We request Parley, under the protection of the System!¡± A blue spark shot out from the top of his helmet and streaked towards a small, untrapped part of the field halfway between him and the enemy army. To the gathered surprise of the defenders, another streak shot out from the Commando¡¯s head and met Mitchell¡¯s, though this one was a sickly yellow instead of the Page¡¯s clear blue. Where the sparks met, a divided dome of force sprouted into place. It was impressive, and George heard a gasp from Miriam before her eyes glazed over and he could faintly see her lips talking through something at great speed, though no words came out. The dome covered about 3 metres, and was divided hemispherically. On their side, a pale blue, almost glass-like energy hung in the air, reaching around and terminating in a flat, shimmering wall. On the other side, the sickly yellow cloud spread out to surround the other side of the dome. ¡°Shit.¡± Mitchell said clearly. ¡°Kyla! Congrats, you just got the job of my honour guard, if you¡¯ll take it?¡± She grimaced. ¡°Is that what Inner members do, is just whatever you say?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a favour.¡± Mitchell answered. ¡°If this gets me experience for my secondary class, I want you to get some for your own secondary class. Plus, you¡¯re good in a scrap. I¡¯d take John, but he¡¯s on standby for any flanking. George is mostly a ranged combatant, Miriam as well, and despite Sarah¡¯s mildly disturbing anti-healing, it still requires her to get up close to people and she has no armour or defensive skills. Mostly, though, if it goes wrong, you¡¯re the highest level combat class.¡± She didn¡¯t like it, but admitted that the reasoning was sound. With a new wooden shield in her hand - made for her by some of these ¡®Support Corps¡¯ fellows, she did feel a bit more safe heading towards potential combat. ¡°Alright, Mitchey. I¡¯ll follow for now.¡± He let out a sigh of relief, and Kyla started with surprise. Had he actually thought I wouldn¡¯t follow? I was just griping, not actually disagreeing. Either way, he started walking forwards towards the dome, and Kyla followed a step behind. They approached the edge of the barrier, which had steadily grown more opaque as they approached, until they stood before the blue half. Tentatively, Mitchell reached out a hand and pressed against the barrier, then staggered when his hand shifted right through. ¡°I think this is our stop. First time for me. Let¡¯s go.¡± With that, he pressed through and vanished into the dome. Kyla made to follow, but the barrier kept her out. It felt cool and smooth, like a rounded pane of glass Glazing around the side of the dome, she came face to face with a large Raccan Brute, who sniffed at her dismissively. Despite her heart hammering in her chest, she snorted. Seems like the guards weren¡¯t to be privy to the meeting.
Mitchell was astonished. The ground inside the dome was dry and covered with healthy grass. A faint scent of baked bread wafted across his nose, and the air was just warm enough to be comfortable in his armour. A small wooden chair sat in the centre of his half of the dome, the furniture oriented towards a flat pane of force that divided the dome in two. Sitting in an odd, nested stool, was the Raccan Commando, who was glaring at him with two bright, intelligent eyes. Between the two was an odd table, his own half being a burnished wood topped desk, while the other half appeared as a moss-covered rock. Mitchell removed his helmet, hooking it onto his belt, and took a seat in the wooden stool, which creaked under his weight. He stared back at the Raccan for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know English?¡± The Raccan chittered. ¡°Foolish cub, playing at war. I speak Raccese, but the System will translate our threats and barbs so we might get back to the fight with haste.¡± Mitchell blinked. He somehow hadn¡¯t expected to actually be speaking with the Commando. ¡°Kind of the System to do so.¡± He delayed as he gathered his thoughts. ¡°If you knew anything about the System, you would never call it kind.¡± The Commando responded with venom. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m going through my thoughts and thinking about the best way to speak to you, and the only thing I could come up with is honesty. Is there no way to avoid this fight?¡± The Raccan blinked in surprise. ¡°Why would we avoid a fight? There are rewards and levels for all of my people, waiting right there in your compound. It is nothing personal. It is the way of the System to pit people against each other. Either your history or mine shall die today.¡± Mitchell sighed, surprised at the turn of the conversation but still feeling like nothing would come of this meeting. Other than the valuable - or completely biased - opinions of this creature. ¡°Would you allow us to evacuate our non-combatants?¡± ¡°What do you mean? The system could not translate that word.¡± ¡°Uh, civilians? Those who cannot fight?¡± The Raccan blinked in what the Page assumed to be confusion. ¡°Why keep them in your nest if they cannot aid in protecting it?¡± ¡°It is what humans do. All are useful. All are valuable. All are innocent until proven guilty. It is our way. What do you do, with the old and infirm? The¡­ cubs, right? What about the sick?¡± ¡°They are excised, to make us all stronger.¡± Mitchells stomach roiled. ¡°Okay, I can get the old, and even the sick, even if I can¡¯t quite agree with the scope of your ''excisions''. But your cubs?¡± ¡°Made into rations. We can create more litters, but a soldier that falls to hunger now is worse than losing five soldiers in the future. Only those which hold the spark are preserved.¡± Mitchell stood, some part of his mind having a visceral reaction and overlapping everything else. ¡°You eat your young?¡± The Commando stood as well snarling. ¡°Do not judge me, hairless ape! Our society has only survived centuries of the System by adopting this way, and I will not be condescended to by some kit fresh into their tutorial! The only way out for you is surrender. Your warriors will be killed, your citizens enslaved or eaten, and your land burned and salted. Only then will the System open the way forward to us.¡± ¡°You got forced into this?¡± Mitchell desperately looked for a way to redeem this creature in his mind. ¡°Did you not hear me, you fool? There are levels and riches for us in your compound. Even without the interference or structure of your tutorial, we would raze you to the ground if it gave me so much as one level I could use to keep my people safe. We were not forced. We marched proudly into the Gate, resolute to bring back some victory. You may have killed half of us, but we will eat all of you.¡± The words physically disgusted him, and without a word he stood and stormed from the dome. Kyla blinked as he exited and then gave a little whoop. Then she saw Mitchell¡¯s face, just a second before he put his helmet back on, and stamped slightly down on her reverie. Something had gone wrong, but she¡¯d gotten four whole levels from standing around outside a dome, so she couldn¡¯t complain too much. ¡°Didn¡¯t go well?¡± Mitchell growled in frustration. ¡°They came by choice, and they plan to eat our corpses after the battle, or us during it? His threat was unclear. What is it about the System that turns people into such¡­ such¡­¡± ¡°Vermin? Snakes? Unapologetic assholes?¡± Mitchell let out yet another sigh, this one clearly disappointed. ¡°All of the above. I think our village might be a rarity by sheer virtue of us trying to lift up as many as possible rather than make ourselves strong enough to conquer them. I just wish I knew why.¡± Kyla shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not too hard. Killing gives levels. Levels give power. Power means you can do things you couldn¡¯t do before, and stop others from doing things to you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s that simple, is it?¡± Mitchell challenged, before something in him deflated. ¡°I suppose it just might be. They literally said they were here for levels and loot.¡± A jolt hit his shoulder. ¡°Oi, boss man. Moping doesn¡¯t sit well on those pauldrons of yours. Perk up before we get back to the line or you¡¯ll infect the rest of them with your suck.¡± Kyla chided. Mitchell held back a snort. ¡°The infectious suck, bane of mankind and ender of worlds.¡± Despite his sarcasm, he set his shoulders and carried himself tall as they walked back to the wall. ¡°At least I got a couple levels out of it.¡± ¡°Anything good?¡± ¡°You could say so.¡± You have gained the secondary class skill: Aura of Rule
George watched the strangeness from the treeline. Some saw Mitchell¡¯s attempt to use diplomatic means as admirable. Some saw it as foolish. George saw it as an excellent distraction, and it had lasted long enough for him to sneak out through the south and loop back around until he was nearby where he¡¯d been not a pair of hours ago, facing off against the Raccan Brute. The branches were scuffed and scratched, some snapped clean off and some hanging by the barest thread of plant fibre. He wouldn¡¯t be able to move as much as he wished, but from here he had an excellent vantage point. Drawing back his bow, he took a breath and held it, centering his sights on the furthest Shaman¡¯s head. The slingers could get him in the trees. The Brutes - once augmented - could get him in the trees. The shamans could try, but their spells were slow. The Commando¡­ well, he didn¡¯t know yet, but he imagined that one was a straight melee fighter, though more in the lines of a soldier than a berserker like the Brutes. His best bet was to remove the shamans and their support magic from the field, so that was what he did. An arrow streaked silently out of the trees, digging into the soft flesh at the base of his target''s neck and burying itself up to the fletching with a wet thump. The other two reacted quickly, casting orbs of sickly green light at the tree he¡¯d been in, but he was far away from that spot now, lining up his shot at the second Shaman. The fading light only helped to conceal him in the shadows, and his next shot came in from the Shaman¡¯s left, sinking into its gut. Forgot to account for the change in distance. Stupid. He quickly sent a follow-up shot, which found its mark in the Shaman¡¯s upper torso before any could cover him, and the tribal caster dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. Two down, one to go. The Commando finally realised what was happening and barked out a harsh series of hisses and growls, and the army reacted - those that were attempting to flank charged the wall from where they had gotten to, four Brutes surrounded the remaining Shaman, and the rest of the army charged towards the gate. George grimaced. He didn¡¯t want to deal with four Brutes. Then he saw Nimbus, eyes locked on the small group and fur raised, and he realised that as much as he didn¡¯t want to, Nimbus did. He observed for a moment, thinking back on how they¡¯d acted in the last wave, and a spark of inspiration lit itself in his mind. ¡°Alright buddy, I think I have a plan but it¡¯ll be dangerous. You in?¡± Nimbus looked up at him and nodded. George stamped down the uneasy feeling at the clear sign that his cat could understand him and pressed on. He could deal with it after. Instead, he explained his plan.
Things got frantic almost immediately, John noted from the Clan House. Mitchell held the gate, and the majority of the northern wall. He¡¯d planted himself in the only space that could be easily walked through, and between his shield and Kyla¡¯s spear, both slinger and Brute fell. Ezekiel stood atop the wall next to the gate, loosing arrow after arrow into the horde of slingers and ducking return shots as much as possible. Unlike the previous wave the slingers lacked the pinpoint accuracy that had made them so dangerous, though being careless was still ill-advised. Miriam was wincing, her eyes blue with the tell-tale sign of looking at a system screen, muttering ¡®come on, come on, hurry up, please just hurry¡¯. Sarah stood on the scaffold, eyes piercing the dark and watching each stroke of a sword, sling of a stone, and waiting, her gnarled staff in her hands and robe still coated with blood from the knees down. George had taken off into the woods again to John''s dismay, but he learned quickly that the Ranger had taken out two of the three Shamans before the fight had even started in earnest. Even if that was his only contribution, if he could just keep the third one busy they should be free of the augmented Brutes and able to hold the army outside the walls. All of this flitted through John¡¯s mind, even as his eye caught movement to the south. A fur-covered head peeked above the wall, and 10 metres to its left another Raccan flopped to the ground. It would have likely broken something on hard-packed dirt, but the ground was mud, and softened its fall. It still took time to gather its senses and come to its¡­ feet? Paws? ¡°Tiros. Two invaders. Repel them.¡± Both Gunther and Aleks looked back at the Centurion with hard eyes. ¡°Sir!¡± They shouted back, and took off at a jog for the south wall, even as a third Skirmisher poked its beady eyes over the wall. ¡°Optio, I need you to go tell Mitchell that they¡¯re coming over the south wall. West is still covered by the river, but if they start coming over the¡­¡± John blinked. ¡°Scratch that, tell Mitchell that they¡¯re coming over the south and east walls.. Legion is deployed and unable to assist with the gate. Then get back here and use your best judgement to help who you think needs it more. I¡¯m off to go greet our new guests.¡± Without waiting for a response, John began to jog towards the east wall where a Brute and a pair of slingers had made it over and were gathering themselves even as they looked at the few scattered buildings. John laughed to himself. Like we¡¯d build up a village before we had it protected? No easy loot here, you dirty animals. ¡°Prepare to bleed for scraps, if not death!¡± He shouted out as he barreled towards the small group.
With two hands on his shield, Mitchell could almost feel his bones quake at the repeated, hammering impacts. Brutes slammed down on him from the front, claws scrabbling at the edge of his shield. After the first couple of times he¡¯d had it dragged low and taken a strike to his armour, he¡¯d sheathed his sword and started grabbing back. A Brute¡¯s elongated claws stretched over the lip of his shield and his free right hand reached out and seized the limb, yanking it up and over his shield. He turned with the momentum, his back hammered by blows as if hail the size of golf balls were slamming him, then he completed his throw, leaving the Brute behind him and resetting his position. A Skirmisher had slipped by while he made his throw, but it made it not more than two steps before an arrow pierced its neck and it fell bonelessly to the ground, unmoving and eyes wide with pain and fear. Blood dripped from the few attacks that had managed to find weak points in his armour, but Mitchell stood ready and repelled the unending crush. Kyla did her duty, and within a second of the Brute being sent to the ground it had a new breathing hole courtesy of her spear. ¡°Patriarch!¡± The voice of Optio Jack called out from behind the line. ¡°The Master of-¡± ¡°Not in a fight!¡± Mitch called back. ¡°What does John need?¡± Jack paused for a brief moment. ¡°Nothing, sir! He says that the legion is deployed, and that the enemy climbs the walls, but he will hold them off.¡± ¡°He said what?¡± Mitchell roared, pausing in his conversation to grab another Brute who was attempting to wrest his shield away. This one he punched right in the snout, and it fell back from the crush of bodies, whimpering. ¡°How are they getting over? George killed the Shamans!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know sir, but I have to go reinforce the Centurion!¡± Mitchell growled. They didn¡¯t have the manpower to protect the wall from every side, not against this density of opponents. They would be defeated in detail. They needed the enemies to funnel through the northern gate so they could limit the number of fighters they faced at once. Without that, they were surrounded and outnumbered. What could they do? The ground was too wet, or he¡¯d say they could light the wall on fire to prevent climbers - even though that was like shooting your foot to reduce the swelling. He wouldn¡¯t be able to stop them from climbing, which meant the walls were lost. His heart sank as he realised he would be getting no experience from this battle. ¡°Sarah, Kyla, with me! Everyone else, fall back! Back to the clan house! Protect our people!¡± Mitchell was not aware, but he had inadvertently activated his new Aura of Rule skill, and within seconds those around him were hustling to follow the new plan, Jack sprinting over the mud like it was a dry-packed trail and he¡¯d just warmed up after a good night''s rest. Miriam felt the piercing quality of her headache fade for just a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah felt a surge of Strength through her bones, and leaped from the scaffolding without a second thought, her legs bending and tucking her shoulder in to roll through her momentum, ultimately ending up with less mud on her robes than she¡¯d thought she¡¯d get from the jump.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Mitchell did not see any of this. Stretching his neck over the mass of Raccans pressing against him, he vaguely saw George in the rear, the third Shaman dead at his feet, the bodies of Brutes strewn about. He¡¯d done incredibly well. The only issue was the Commando, which had engaged him in melee, and whose blows were fast enough to whistle through the air, and strong enough to send mud flying from its impacts. The sword dug more than a foot into the ground as the Ranger rolled aside, and the Commando yanked it from the mud without resistance, the creature''s Strength more than enough to free it. George wasn¡¯t able to fit in any attacks. The second he pulled an arrow into his hand, the Commando almost disappeared into a lunge which George desperately dodged. Mitchell knew that George was dodging via spending Stamina. Stamina would run out, and George would be unable to dodge. ¡°Well fuck.¡± Mitchell muttered to himself. ¡°Kyla, now! Cover me. Sarah, give me the adrenaline. George isn¡¯t dying on my watch.¡± With the tap of a staff, Mitchells bodily hormones were overridden, and he charged forwards.
Miriam stumbled into the Clan House, dimly aware of the group of cowering, hiding people. She fought the urge to scoff or judge them - it was the same thing she¡¯d have done when she¡¯d first gotten here, first become a part of the System. She didn¡¯t envy them, though. Before, she¡¯d found it easy to let someone else take responsibility too. To assign her work and excel at the assignment while letting the big picture fade away. For today, for this battle, it rankled her to no end that everyone considered her down and out. Sure, she had drained her MP and was dealing with the recovery. Sure, it hurt her brain beyond the point of concentrating if she tried to manifest an array. But nobody had even tried to solve that problem, they¡¯d just written her off. That made her upset. She didn¡¯t spend hours upon hours studying the inner workings of reality it-fucking-self to get benched when the clutch came around. Kyla was a lady with a pointy stick and she was out there. John was wearing a skirt, and he was out there. Sarah had no armour or defence to speak of, and Mitchell had called for them, not her. She stormed her way through the crowd of kneeling, huddled figures, the faint clanging of combat streaming in through the open door causing them to flinch. She cut her way around the longpit, to the head of the room, and walked around the back of their chairs to the floating crystal that signified the core of the settlement. The blue glow in the darkness of the longhouse still made her headache act up, but she was committed to her decision and brought up the Shop menu. Spending the entirety of her personal money as well as a decent chunk of Mitchell¡¯s, she made a single purchase, and stormed her way back out of the Clan house. She would show them. She would show them why she was the reason they¡¯d even survived the last wave. Not a single soul would get close to this house, on her word and her life.
George was not panicking. No, even though his opponent was faster, stronger, and more experienced than him, George was definitely not panicking. Nimbus was calm as well. George calmly yelped as he slipped through the mud out of the way of the sword. He serenely scrambled back to his feet, twisting to catch a glimpse of which direction the attack was coming from- It was too close to dodge, he thought, before something hit the back of his head and forced it down, the sword sweeping centimetres over his bowed head. Nimbus yowled as he landed in the mud, having just sprung off of George''s head and assisting in the dodge. The Commando was not unharmed. Shallow scratches covered its face and arms, but nowhere vital. It took a moment to size up him and Nimbus, then charged forwards again. Then it was hit by a truck. Or rather, hit by a charging Mitchell, with all of his Strength and the weight of plate armour, which was pretty much the equivalent of being hit by a small truck. The commando tumbled, and without waiting or saying anything, Mitchell grabbed George¡¯s arm in a pincer grip and started dragging him back to the gate. ¡°They breached the walls. We¡¯re falling back to the house.¡± George shook his head. ¡°No way, man. This guy must be a command type mob, I bet if we kill him they¡¯ll revert to their old tactics. It¡¯d be a hard fight, but we can take them when they¡¯re dumbed down.¡± Mitchell continued to drag him along, despite his resistance. ¡°It¡¯s too late. They¡¯re inside the walls. 10, maybe. 20, maybe. 30? 40? All rushing us at once? We need to group up.¡± George slipped his arm free as he started running alongside Mitchell, Nimbus keeping easy pace at his side. ¡°You¡¯re fucking nuts, you know that? You know I was gonna come back after that fight.¡± ¡°If you came back.¡± Mitchell answered. ¡°I¡¯d rather that ¡®if¡¯ be a ¡®when¡¯.¡± George grumbled, but the Page was correct - if that fight had lasted another minute, he¡¯d have gone through all his stamina. An arrow whistled overhead and sounded behind them with a clanging sound that was all too close for comfort. With a quick glance over his shoulder, George saw the Commando was hot on their heels, sword poised to strike as soon as it caught up. ¡°It still might be an ¡®if¡¯, Mitch!¡± He called out, realising with dismay that though Mitchell was able to break out, a portion of the Raccan forces had turned to block his return and consequently his own. Then a black streak shot forward, and George didn¡¯t have the time to shout out for Nimbus when they crashed into the enemy line. Rather, Mitchell raised his shield and bodily pushed through, sending skirmishers airborne and Brutes staggering, but slowing with each step. As the Raccan¡¯s poured around his sides, George lashed out with his rapier, the needle of steel not able to stop them but easily able to penetrate their hides and strike at vital areas. Between the legs of the scrambling foe, Nimbus darted back and forth, ripping his claws across ankles and sending them stumbling rather than dropping weapons atop the pair. The crush pressed in around them and George had to drop his sword, the mob of bodies too close for him to do much of anything. He drew his dagger and plunged it down into the skull of a Brute that was trying to tackle him, but the blade skittered off its skull and flayed a portion of its hide. It was enough for the Brute to let go, and with the sudden loss of resistance he pitched forwards into the roaring melee, knowing that to fall was to die - then a hand grabbed him around the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the ground and he panicked, swiping with his dagger before a strike to the wrist disarmed him. He blinked at the cloudy sky, and realised he wasn¡¯t in the melee. The second thing he realised was that Kyla stood by his feet, shield held high and Spear broken on the ground beside her. The third thing he noticed was Nimbus, still in the fight, but not ranging far from the defensive line. Then it all came crashing in, and he realised that they¡¯d made it through. A hand pushed the hilt of a weapon into his hand, and he blinked up at Sarah from down in the mud. In her white robes, spattered with blood and wearing a severe expression on her face, George couldn¡¯t help but stare at the tip of her staff as she pressed it against his legs. ¡°No time for rest, Ranger!¡± She shouted over the clanging of steel and the roars of anger and pain. George felt an idle itching sensation fade away, and looked down to see his pants in tatters and legs streaked with blood. However, even as he watched, a long cut knit itself together. The staff moved to his chest, then under his chin, lifting his gaze. ¡°George, I¡¯m being nice, but if you don¡¯t get your ass up and help, I¡¯m gonna un-heal you.¡± George scrambled to his feet even as his stomach churned at the thought. Her threat was unspecific, but that somehow made it even worse. He sheathed his dagger, drew his bow, and with a couple short leaps had climbed up atop the nearest house and begun firing arrows. Sarah nodded and turned back to the narrow, bloody gap where a pair of humans and a cat were fighting for their lives. ¡°All here, Mitch!¡± ¡°Alright, get ready to fall back! We¡¯ll take the rear and cover, now go! Get to the Clan House!¡± ¡°We¡¯ll take the rear?!¡± Kyla squawked in the face of the overwhelming numbers, and George sighed in relief as Nimbus took off towards the house.
¡°Eastern Alley!¡± ¡°Mine! Shit, that¡¯s a miss, can- Nice throw, Centurion!¡± John pulled his last javelin from the small quiver he had strapped to his back and scanned his eyes around the clearing between the Clan House and the Gazebo. There were a few Raccans he could see, mostly Skirmishers. They were breaking down the doors to the houses and emerging soon afterwards with frustration in their body language. He laughed at the thought that the village was so poor, there was nothing for the raiders to pillage. At least the next ones to attack would find an abundance of furs. His Tiros were holding the doorway and throwing Javelins at any Raccans they saw, while John himself acted as their front line and Jack acted as the backup. As a pair of Skirmishers rounded the side of a house, John started towards them to intercept. A third approached from the opposite side of what John was beginning to call the Town¡¯s Square, and without a word Jack hopped off the porch of the longhouse and made for the second threat. Which was fine until now, but then a Brute approached from the south, and John cursed, abandoning his intercept and whistling to gather everyone back. ¡°Legion, form a line!¡± Jack echoed his curse and began running back to the porch, and they arrived almost simultaneously. The Raccans gathered up in the square - while John had a javelin left, his Legion was all out and he needed a good target. The enemy totalled only 10 Raccans, but two of those were Brutes, and other Raccans slowly wandered in to reinforce them. John watched from behind his shield as the injured but still mobile form of the Raccan Commando emerged from the west, dripping wet and with a snarl on its face. It joined the rest of the Raccans in the centre, and soon there were 20. A surge of Raccans came streaming into the square from the North, and John¡¯s heart sank even as he felt like he was going to be sick. If the Raccans got here first, that means their retreat failed. Their friends - his wife - were supposed to be here. They were supposed to retreat so they could all fight together. As more Raccans joined the group, John¡¯s heart faltered. Almost at that exact moment, the Raccans charged. ¡°Legion, hold the line at all costs! They want to rape our women, kill our men, and eat the children! I say over my DEAD BODY!¡± His three soldiers let out a half-hearted yell. John grit his teeth. The Raccans were almost upon him. With one last burst of determination, he chucked his Javelin into the mass of Raccans, unable to miss. A Skirmisher went down with the 3 foot length of wood speared through its torso, then they were in melee. A Brute came right for his shield so he bashed it out to stun the creature and moved to thrust his gladius, but another Raccan stepped in and swung with its claws, forcing him to abandon the strike to reposition his shield. To either side, the same scene played over and over - his troops were trained enough to work in a line, but there were just too many Raccans to risk overextending. They were in danger of being surrounded, the porch their only defensive structure and even then it was nothing but a few planks of wood laid over the muddy ground. John knew this position was untenable, as even as he defended he received five wounds in twice as many seconds, and the Raccans hadn¡¯t taken a single loss. ¡°Legion, backstep! Form two ranks in the doorway!¡± The order should have been easy, in John''s mind at least. Yet, among all of their training and formations, they¡¯d never done any backsteps. Dismay flooded John¡¯s mind as the formation fell apart. Jack took a single backstep immediately, which left Gunther¡¯s left flank open. The Raccan¡¯s pressed into the gap, and Gunther was dragged down and out of the formation with a scream that curdled into bloody whimpers before going quiet. John slashed out with his gladius, taking a strike to his forearm but warding off the skirmisher that was attempting to flank Aleks, allowing the remaining Tiro to back up. Unfortunately, three was a much more dire situation than four. Step by step, they were pushed backwards towards the house, and soon John found himself with his feet planted in the doorway, the frame to either side restricting his strikes even as it prevented him from being overwhelmed. With only the one way in, John was able to halt the advance by sheer virtue of refusing to give another inch. To his back, Jack lashed out with his gladius over and over again, punishing any Raccans that pushed too recklessly. Aleks sobbed, even as he braced against Jack¡¯s back and helped him push back against the might of the Brutes. ¡°We will hold!¡± John demanded, his tone offering no discussion. His Legion did not answer. A scream cut through the din and was quickly muffled, but John had a quick and important reminder that not 10 steps behind him, the civilians huddled in fear. A part of him disregarded that, as he was worried about his own life, but that part of him quickly faded and was replaced by red-hot rage. ¡°LEGION!¡± John bellowed out, even as a trio of strikes hammered against and started chipping away at his shield. ¡°We stand as the bastion before the terrors of the world, the wall that keeps civilization safe! For our fathers, our brothers, for our sons, we will fulfill our duty! For our mother and sisters and daughters, we will stand strong! For all of us here, and for the light inside your soul, stand! Stand here, stand now, and let these vermin know! Not one more step back!¡± ¡°Not one more step!¡± A faint, golden shimmer reached out from John¡¯s chest and delicately brushed against the three warriors, and exhaustion faded away. His shield repelled a strike with no more damage, and Jack¡¯s return strike flashed out with almost uncanny speed and precision, his weapon sinking into a Brutes throat and tearing it out as the Optio withdrew. Aleks choked back a sob and began pushing with his own weapon against the hoard, for something important had changed. John¡¯s arm felt light, the shock of strikes feeble, and his legs powerful. He knew, that as long as that effect from the golden light lasted, so too would he. But with how many of them there were, would he hold long enough? Was anyone even coming to help? Were any of his friends even still alive?
Miriam forced herself to ignore the shouts and clanging of combat coming from down the stairs, poring over her notebook in frantic studying. She worried for a brief moment that she would be too late, then immediately determined the best way to prevent that was to work fast and without distraction, and so her mind focussed into a pattern of arrays, mana costs, and the hypothetical spells she knew she could cast if she could just get it all right. Not for the first time did she feel a measure of jealousy for Sarah. She was able to make new spells, apparently, but she at least got some to start with. Miriam was working from scratch, every single time. In her mind''s eye, she pulled up the monstrous array formation that had cast the Lightning Totem spell. At a second glance, and with the extra INT she now had, it was clear to see that it was sloppy, inelegant, and all around dangerous. She shaved half of the arrays out of it, then scrapped the rest as she realised it would be easier to start from scratch.. She started with the standard for a projectile spell like her Mana Dart, the targeting array. She added two more onto the back to designate single target, then repeating. Then she scrapped the repeating array and replaced it with one she¡¯d found in her book, the Relay array. That would be more like what she was going for, though she did need to add a recursive loop if she wanted it to relay multiple times - which she did, but the mana cost would inflate too much to make it usable. With three arrays on targeting, she added the fourth buffer array, which was essentially empty except for determining where the spell would come from. With the easy part done, Miriam dove in. A series of 30 arrays gradually faded away until she was left with a theoretical spell 15 arrays deep, with no recursion or other additives. With a quick tweak to the buffer array to ensure she didn¡¯t end up with any recoil or backsplash, she began to form the actual spell, only for the arrays to fall apart. Fighting down her panic, she dove back into what she¡¯d made, resisting the urge to just start from scratch. No, she didn¡¯t have time for that, so she had to fix the spell she was trying to make. The first four were good, she knew that much. The next set of five was for creating a tunnel of charged particles, as she recalled vaguely from her science classes, while the next nine were all about guidance and generation. She dove through them all with a fine-toothed comb, eyes flicking back and forth in the dim candlelight of her bedroom even as more screams of fear and panic echoed up from below.
¡°That¡¯s all of them!¡± Kyla managed to call out, despite her bleeding and limp left arm. Without the ability to wield a shield, she¡¯d dropped it and was running her improvised spear one-handed. She''d grabbed one of the javelins from the supply barrels near the walls, and was using it to great effect. Mitchell nodded, too tired to respond. When the Raccans had broken through, they¡¯d streamed around their defensive line, cutting them off from the route back to the Clan House even as half their forces pushed forwards. With no other option, they¡¯d ducked into the nearest house and held the door. With plate armour and a shield, Mitchell was immovable, and Kyla¡¯s skill with her spear truly shone as she made pinpoint strikes into the Raccans even around his bulky form. Sarah had kept up as well as she could but was low on mana,. Without her, though, they¡¯d all be dead. Ezekiel wasn¡¯t able to help much, but luckily George had hopped up on top of the roof and was raining arrows down on their attackers, further diluting the force they could put into a push. Unlike the situation at the Clan House, every person here had a combat class and multiple levels in said class, and the Raccans fell in droves until there was a single skirmisher looking around confused. Then there was a single skirmisher falling to the ground with a javelin through its neck, and the immediate sounds of combat faded, though they could still hear fighting in the direction of the Town Square. ¡°Sarah, you good?¡± Mitchell checked in. ¡°Yea, I¡¯m- Damnit George!¡± The Healer cursed as George hopped off the roof and sprinted for the fight. ¡°No, he¡¯s got the right idea, we need to relieve them.¡± The Page answered as he took off at a thundering jog. With a shared look of resignation, Sarah and Kyla followed.
John could hold on no longer. The golden glow faded, and within seconds of that, Aleks was dragged out into the crush and silenced. Jack was the only thing holding him up, and he could feel the shaking of his muscles - his Optio wouldn¡¯t last much longer, and once he was alone, he would be torn apart. The group of civilians pushed closer and closer to the stairs, trying to get away from the fighting, and more than once he¡¯d had to hold alone as the others of the Legion chased down and killed stragglers that had managed to push through. The bodies in the doorway were just about the only reason he hadn¡¯t been overwhelmed. His attackers were just as likely to trip over their fallen troops as they were to push through successfully, and that allowed him to keep pace, but just barely. Jack whimpered at his side, and John fought all the harder for it. He knew, as he saw the Commando starting to push forwards towards them, that he wouldn¡¯t be able to stop them. As his hope faded and his arm wavered, something odd happened. An arrow sprouted from a skirmisher that was trying to take a bite out of his shoulder, the shaft punching through its skull and the arrowhead protruding from just below its left eye. Then another arrow sank into the crush, and the pressure against him weakened as the Commando made a barking command. A third of the forces turned to guard their rear.. But from what? His answer came in the form of a titan in shining steel crashing into the back of the Raccan ranks, howling bloody murder. It was hard to see in the fading light, but he caught the faintest glimpse of blood-soaked red robes and the theory he¡¯d been afraid to confront fell apart before his eyes. A stinging sensation formed, and as a tear rolled down his grimy cheek, John cheered with all of his might, seeing Sarah¡¯s clearly living form dashing from person to person out in the square. The Commando snarled, and made to push its way back to the reinforcing party, when a crack split the sky in twain.
¡°Split the charges from central to dorsal, invert to ventral, loop back in to central tunnel¡­ Sphere, Charge, Contain, Alter, Project, Loop back to Targeting, Repeat 3¡­¡± Miriam continued muttering the home-made names she¡¯d created for each of the arrays as she stacked one on top of the other. As all 15 hovered in place, she collapsed them into one flat, impossibly complicated spell diagram, and took aim. From her balcony window of the Clan House, she could see the entire battle. In fact, she felt like she was the only one who¡¯d seen all of how things had progressed. First, the Commando had allowed the Raccans to gain enough grasp of strategy to scale the walls, which was bad on its own. Then they had split their forces to try and react, and from there it had just been reaction after reaction. Miriam would prefer to be the actor, not the actee. That was why she had left the front line and gone to the System store and bought herself something they¡¯d decided as a group to wait for, but if there was no town left, they¡¯d never be able to buy them. It turns out, Mana potions tasted like blueberry. While she was in her room, the battle progressed. She heard the dying screams of the two Tiros, she heard John¡¯s roars of pain and rage. She heard his defiant speech, she heard the yelps and whimpers from the non-combatants. She heard everything that they had built come into danger, and it took all she had to shut it out and focus on fixing her Lightning Totem spell into something more useable. And if she had succeeded, they would be saved. If she had failed, she and all of her friends could die here. That was why she gave Mitchell a faint smile, even though she knew he wouldn¡¯t be paying attention as he had his own fight to complete. He may have had the Willpower, but for a long time they¡¯d borrowed the better parts of each other, and she knew that if he could do it then she could too. She released her mana and felt a wave of light-headedness flow through her. She watched in almost slow motion as her mana crept through the first few arrays until it hit some sort of break point, then a spark shot back and forth three times and streaked out faster than her eyes could track. The miniscule, almost dainty looking spark sunk into the chest of a Brute, and the creature had just enough time to look up before the bridge between it and the array connected and a beam of lightning as thick as a pencil jagged across the sky and into his chest, turning the Brute into as much raining meat and blood. The spark jumped from the remains of the Brute into a Skirmisher, and though the bolt was weaker, it still flung the Skirmisher 15 feet in the air. If it wasn¡¯t killed, it was when it landed on its head with a hollow snap. One more spark shot out, the weakest yet, and as luck would have it sunk into the Commando. A final bolt shot down from where the Skirmisher arced through the air and slammed into the Commando¡¯s chest, and while it knocked him back a few paces and left an angry, charred patch of fur, the leader still stood. Miriam was surprised when she didn¡¯t feel the expected light-headedness, and with a glance at her status, realised why: Her new Mana Efficiency skill. In fact, that lightning bolt had taken up just over a third of her total. With a manic grin, she began to reform the array. Over the next two minutes, she fired off four more bolts. She could have gone faster, but she made sure her mana didn¡¯t drop below the cost of the spell - she worked with the assumption that a minute or two without spells was better than passing out again. With magic from above, arrows from the alleys, an anvil in John and Jack and the hammer of Mitchell and Kyla, soon the only creature left standing was the Commando. He was injured, but still slashed out with his swords when anyone got close. John staggered from the front entrance of the longhouse, while Jack remained at the door. Sarah, Mitchell, George, and Ezekiel in various states of injury and damaged clothing joined them, and even Miriam took the time to walk down the stairs, fighting through her mixed elation and horror at the unmoving bodies of the Tiros she had to walk by to get to the square. She kept her face placid and unchanging, as much as she was wanting to cry and tear her hair out. In fact, she kept walking in her daze, straight through the circle of her friends, straight up to the staggering and flailing Raccan, and barely felt as its sword slid into her thigh. Even as she fell to a knee she shoved her staff forwards until it pushed against the Commando¡¯s chest and generated the required arrays in record time. She didn¡¯t hear Sarah¡¯s admonishment, nor Mitchell¡¯s gasping protest. She growled as she released her less powerful but equally as deadly Lightning Bolt spell - as opposed to the Lightning Chain she was casting before. With all of the mana sent into one target, the Raccan Commando flashed from within for a split second before exploding into a burst of super-heated blood and small chunks of meat. ¡°Get fucked, vermin.¡± And silence fell over Old Mill Town, before the beginnings of a ragged cheer pierced the twilight. Then a notification appeared for the group, and they all but collapsed from exhaustion. Congratulations! You have proved yourselves and Old Mill Town worthy of your continued existence. Rest, recuperate, grow, and fortify, as your town is now eligible for upgrading. Your town has been granted a one week Safe Haven status. Congratulations! You are the first Town to succeed in proving yourselves! All currently unlocked buildings can be built at 1/10th of their costs, and the next Town level will cost ? of the required materials. 20. Shoring Up The last thing Sarah had thought she¡¯d be doing when the world went to shit was running a state-sponsored funeral. Yet, as the crowd of new settlers and her own friends gathered around a hole dug by her husband, she found herself less annoyed by the unexpected and more just tired. All day they had fought, and Sarah wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed with John and cry for a good hour. At the haunted look on his face after the battle, however, she knew that their bed tonight would be anything but calm and restful, and so she¡¯d hiked up her robes and gotten to work. Miraculously, she¡¯d been able to save Aleks. It was a close call, and pushed her Healer class to the brink of its capabilities, but she¡¯d done it. Even now, he was bunked in the Clan House, as he¡¯d yet to regain consciousness from his ordeal. Losing a leg would do that to anyone, and Mitchell volunteered to personally help the man out when he awoke. Sarah had left him with a warning that if he dared try the same thing he did with himself, she¡¯d break both of his legs in the forest and let him crawl back. But all of that was like a blur. Here, now, with the sun set and the light of impromptu torches casting shadows on the faces of the mourning, she stepped forwards onto the slightly raised platform of the gazebo. Surrounding them were many new buildings that sat empty, but for all they gained, not a single person focussed on that. All of the focus was on the brave soldier who¡¯d given everything for a town not three days old, and it tore at her heart to see that shapeless form beside the hole, draped over with a cheap canvas bag. For as much as she hurt, she was their only Healer, and not all wounds were physical. She had a duty. Not just to accommodate grieving, but to do more. To help them start to heal. ¡°Fitting, isn¡¯t it?¡± She said softly, and the hushed murmurs in the gathering quieted to a silence broken only by the burbling of the nearby river. ¡°Fitting, that is, that we should find our victory tempered by loss. Fitting that for all our power and strategy and determination, it was the least expected who made the greatest sacrifice. The one least able to change the outcomes stood and said ¡®By what strength I have, I place myself before the innocent to keep the forces of the darkness at bay¡¯.¡± She paused, as first Jack and then John crashed their fists to their chests in salute. Her throat hitched as she saw tears openly streaming down his face, but he did not sob, nor shake, but stood resolute. Sarah swallowed thickly as she tried to find the words to continue, leaning on his strength. ¡°And he did. Gunther personally defeated over ten of the Raccan foe, side by side with his comrades and brothers. He was a loyal soldier, a fine man, and now a void that will be felt in the hearts of us all. Beyond anything, though, Gunther was an embodiment of what we¡¯re trying to do here. He looked at his situation and found himself determined to be better. To make it better for those around him. To not stand idly by and watch as his fate was determined by others. His sacrifice enabled us to emerge victorious from our darkest day, and as such we will honour him.¡± She stepped back off the improvised podium, not trusting her voice to hold up, and Mitchell stepped past her. He¡¯d changed from his armour into the breastplate from his class set, and the metal gleamed with the light of the torches. His face was set and hard as he stepped up. ¡°Gunther did what was expected of him.¡± He lead harshly, with a firm tone. ¡°He did what any of us would do, and for this, I posthumously and proudly raise Gunther to the status of a Core Member.¡± A wave of gasps went around, even though she couldn¡¯t tell how many were just sobs. She was starting to get mad at Mitchell, making this about ranks and duties instead of loss, but then he continued. ¡°But that is not enough. Not nearly enough for him, for his memory, or for us, for we here are the ones who will carry his memory into the future and ensure he lives on. I go one step further, and raise Gunther higher than any of us. Even beyond the tenets of our village and the ranks we use, Gunther was the best of us, and so I name him Hero of the Founding. Might this short and violent age be remembered not by the loss we endure, or by the work yet to be done - let it be remembered by the man who chose to give everything when he could have done nothing. Let us remember Gunther, the Man. Let us remember Tiros Gunther, the Soldier. Let us never forget Ser Gunther, the Hero.¡± Other words were said. Other people told surprising stories of the deceased, and Sarah allowed herself to weep, for Gunther was indeed a good man outside of his role in the village. Eventually, the body was lowered, and the hole filled. Hours passed in remembrance. Many slowly filtered away into houses with broken doors. Others started small campfires and continued to mourn, but also celebrate their survival. Someone had somehow gotten a small cask of wine and a horn, and it was being passed around. She was one of the last up and awake, determined to show the same Strength that John did, but she too had to let sleep claim her eventually. She didn¡¯t have nearly the Willpower to endure any longer. When dawn rose over New Mill Town, only then did the remnants of John¡¯s First Legion stand and give the fallen Hero a final salute.
Sarah slept through most of the next morning, and when she finally awoke, John was crashed on the bed beside her, half-undressed. She took a moment to take off his boots and tuck him under the itchy bedding, then crept out of their room, only to see Miriam doing the exact same thing down the hall. With a silent exchange of glances and subtle head-nods, the two crept down to the main area, where embers smouldered in the longpit. Sarah tossed a log onto the fire to start it back up, then took a seat on one of the benches. Miriam sat down beside her. They were silent for a minute, until a meowing broke the silence and Nimbus padded out from under another bench, stretching and hopping up onto the rim of the longpit to lounge in the heat. ¡°Fuck.¡± Sarah said flatly, and Miriam only nodded in agreement. ¡°You can say that twice.¡± The pair jumped at the source of sound, as Kyla made her presence known. She took a seat on the bench across from them, and there was a moment of silence where each came to terms with the other''s presence. Miriam got up wordlessly and walked over to the system store, emerging not a minute later with a platter and three steaming cups of something. Sartah took the proffered cup and took a sniff, her eyes widening. ¡®Coffee?¡¯ Kyla also clearly could smell the beverage, and the trio sat in silence, nursing their cups, until Sarah spoke again. ¡°That fucking sucked.¡± She stated, the sheer acknowledgement enough to have the emotions bubbling back up. Kyla nodded. ¡°It did. It really did. If you guys hadn¡¯t taken us in, there is no way in hell we would have survived.¡± Miriam''s face paled, invisible though the reaction was in the low light of the fire. ¡°What about other people? You heard about Mitch¡¯s notification - we were the first town. Which means we¡¯re likely the only town.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know that.¡± Sarah said slowly, trying to keep her energy down and her mind calm. It was slightly baffling to her that Miriam could go from bleeding out last night to back on track this morning. Sarah wasn¡¯t even injured - not like the others were - and she still felt strung out like she¡¯d just gone through two back to back exam weeks. ¡°I think we do.¡± Miriam fired back. ¡°I think we started shit too early. It was what, four, five days since we got here that you and Mitch came back with that chest? How many other people could have gone from level one and running from the coyotes, to delving into a level ten to fifteen dungeon?¡± ¡°Enough.¡± Sarah fired back. ¡°Remember, Mitch didn¡¯t have a class when he went down there. It can¡¯t be impossible that anyone else went in and made it through.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t heard much about how he did it, but when we got to the entrance, we were told it was a level 10 to level 15 dungeon. The one about the burning building, yea?¡± ¡°Yea.¡± Sarah answered Kyla. ¡°Alright, and he went in before a class? So under level five. Can I just say that most people wouldn¡¯t go into somewhere where the weakest things are at twice their level? So if anyone has a settlement, it¡¯ll either be someone stupid, someone courageous, or someone with nothing else to lose, like our Patriarch was.¡± Miriam shifted awkwardly in her seat at her fiance being talked about that way. Sarah finally took a sip of the cooling coffee in her hands, able to quickly tell it was instant coffee. She didn¡¯t care, even letting her mouth burn as she took a big gulp of the hot beverage. Being able to heal yourself had perks, even though she got dirty looks from the other two at the light golden glow that emerged from between her lips. ¡°So that means one of two things. We either need to shore up, or expand quickly. Imagine being out there in the woods and a bunch of Raccans start coming at you for no discernible reason. When you find out it''s because some other people made a settlement¡­ well, Kyla, what would you think?¡± ¡°I mean, I already did think you guys were leaving the rest of us out to be killed. As it kept going, I might think it was deliberate - Mitchell shared that quest with everyone. I think the System wants people to die.¡± Miriam hummed. ¡°Not quite. The System wants people to push themselves, not die. Every time we do something we don¡¯t think we can do, we get experience. Like, if I want to level up my secondary class, I need to create enchantments I haven¡¯t done before. Repeats get me a little xp, but not much.¡± Sarah nodded. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t do too much that¡¯s inherently new, but whenever I fix up an injury I haven¡¯t done before, it''s worth more experience.¡± Kyla nodded. ¡°Okay, it¡¯s not trying to kill people, but it definitely doesn¡¯t care for our safety.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Kyla sighed. ¡°Well, I suppose I should get to work. Someone needs to organise these people and I¡¯m pretty sure the boys will be knocked out for a few more hours. Miriam, could you let me know which buildings Mitchell was thinking of putting up first? We have a massive cost reduction for the day, and if we can get a few buildings up, we can upgrade the Settlement¡¯s Rank. Don¡¯t know what that does, but it seems important.¡± Sarah left them to it as she finished her coffee and left the building to see a surprise - the majority of the townsfolk were already at work! Small groups worked together with axes to open up the East and South gates, while a pair of women went around to each house, fixing the hinges that the Raccans had broken down during the siege. She heard the sound of shouting atop the scaffold and saw a haggard looking Ezekiel directing something outside the wall. From the column of dirty smoke, she imagined they were cleaning the battlefield. Her own feet took her almost on autopilot towards a small group of the younger Aspirants, who were crowding around the ruins of the mill. It was not two minutes later that she discovered Singh was dead - claw marks in triplicate across his throat and his left arm sitting separately a yard away. His corpse lay in the corner of the mill, a look of horror and agony sealed forever on its face. Sarah needed to leave the area upon seeing the bite marks on its flesh.
Mitchell awoke in the early afternoon and quickly remembered the events of the night before. A quick glance showed that Miriam was already awake and out, and he could faintly hear the sound of axes chopping into wood echoing through the town. With a groan, he rolled out of bed. A few notifications awaited him, so he took the time to work through them. The first three were levels for his Aspiring Clan Leader class, and the next few explained just how that had happened while he slept. A Hero is named: Ser Gunther, of Old Mill Town. His deeds live on in the collective memory of this settlement. This provides the following benefits: Militia raised in Old Mill Town gain bonuses to Willpower when following the orders of their officers. Ser Gunther¡¯s name can be invoked in various ways, which will further increase this bonus in times of distress. Militia assigned to Old Mill Town are resistant to Loyalty checks. Construction of a new structure is complete! Construction of a new structure is complete! Construction of a new structure is complete! Construction of a new structure is complete! Farm is now actively staffed and producing food. Market Stall is now actively staffed and unlocks Trade Leatherworkers Hut is not staffed and is not producing. Docks are now actively staffed and ready for operation. Warning! Treasury is low on funding! Current Funds: 63F He blinked a few times, mind whirling, before he dismissed the screens and chose to go see for himself. The day was bright and sunny in the growing settlement. He could see that the gates had been repaired. He could see that the houses had been fixed, and the blood cleaned from the wood, though a faint copper stain still remained in some places. He saw, out of the Eastern gate, as a tree fell with a rumbling crash. Walking to the town square, he could even see out of that Eastern gate to where a small farmhouse and middling barn had been erected outside the wall. Furrowed earth replaced the grass, and as he watched, a man pushed a plough through the field while two more with ropes pulled on it. He looked to the south, where a small hut with a leather roof sat beside a series of vats and racks, though this building lacked the productive bustle of citizens. His gaze continued to take in the improvements, and his eyes saw a primitive wooden dock jutting out over the river, while various carpentry tools lay strewn about the beach. John was there, making some sort of platform for the trio of dock workers, who appeared to be two burly men and a diminutive woman.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Then he finally realised there was a man staring at him from underneath a canvas covered market stall, and Mitchell stumbled his way over, still waking up. ¡°Hail Patriarch. Good to see you whole and healthy.¡± The man stated flatly. Mitchell squinted at him, discreetly analysing the fellow and finding his name was Tommen, though his stats were nothing to note. ¡°Good day to you, Tommen. I see you¡¯ve been busy while I¡¯ve been secluded away - why don¡¯t you tell me about your stall here?¡± The man stood straighter at Mitchell using his name, and proceeded to talk his ear off for the next fifteen minutes. Mitchell learned a few things, not just about the Market either. He learned that Kyla had the capability to initiate projects, and had done so in the early morning. He learned that the docks were operational and required lumber to begin making fishing vessels, which Tommen was excited to start seeing goods from. He learned that the Farm did not run like a normal farm from Before - rather, it could undergo one ¡®state change¡¯ each day until harvest. From what he understood, the Farm had begun the process of growing potatoes, as that would be the cheapest and easiest crop to start. He also learned that they had fired up the leatherworker for all of five minutes and the stench was simply unbearable. Kyla had assured the people that the building would not operate until that issue was solved. Finally, and this was the majority of what Tommen spoke of, he learned of the Market. The Market had a link to the System Store in the Clan house that allowed each person to buy goods from the Store as if they were buying from Tommen. Looking into the details in his screen, he found that he could set various restrictions to the type of goods that could be sold, as well as levy a tax on goods purchased this way. With the Market, they could also sell items to the System Store. Kyla hadn¡¯t set any taxes, so Mitchell quickly set up a 1% tax on sales while keeping purchases exempt. The town was growing, and they would need to purchase a lot. Eventually, he planned to tax System Store transactions but leave most Market transactions exempt - He wanted to promote internal trade, if at all possible. He was no economist, but his people trading currency between themselves sounded better than giving it back to the System. He also restricted the sale of poisons and traps. Further upgrades to the market would allow for a licensing system that would allow him to restrict goods to certain types of purchasers, but for now it was all or nothing. He finished off his chat with the talkative merchant by buying himself a sack of jerky, and he nibbled on it as he meandered down to the docks, greeting the busy townsfolk as they passed him by. With the sun in the sky and the people all active, it was almost hard to reconcile the bloody battle from the day before as happening here, but still Gunther¡¯s tombstone sat in its place of honour beside the gazebo. There was no fence, but the visible footpaths of peoples tracks still gave the grave a wide berth out of respect. Mitchell didn¡¯t spare a gaze for the tombstone. Not out of disrespect, but because the truth burrowed its way deeply into Mitchell¡¯s heart and took root there - this was his fault. Jumping ahead without considering the consequences had brought the Siege down on them, and the blame for that could be laid at no other feet. Only his extreme Willpower stat had allowed him to make it through the speech the night before without cracking, and he feared it would be insufficient now, tired and worn as he was. John worked hard, he noticed when he got there. Townsfolk - Aspirants, mostly - were dragging trees over to him, and with saw and plane he made boards out of them. Over and over he would split, carve, and finish before the next log was placed atop his pair of sawhorses and he started all over again. ¡°John.¡± Mitchell announced himself. The few lingering Aspirants nearby looked over and scurried to their feet, watching with wide eyes. John continued to run the hand-planer down the length of wood. Mitchell moved over to the other side of the log, so he was at the Centurion¡¯s front. ¡°John.¡± He said urgently, but it was clear that the man didn¡¯t see him or even hear him. Mitchell waited until he finished his current length, then placed his hand over top of John¡¯s. With a start, John fell back, the tool falling from his cramping hands and revealing bloody blisters. ¡°Jesus, John, what are you doing to yourself?¡± Mitchell asked aghast. John looked down at his hand, used his other one to steady its shaking, then bent low to pick up the tool he¡¯d dropped. With a growl, he spoke. ¡°Not enough.¡± Mitchell¡¯s heart sang a song of sorrow and camaraderie. ¡°Stop.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t. A boat could make the difference next time.¡± John began planing the board again, though at this point the blood had covered the tool enough that each stroke left a red smear on the boards. Mitchell grabbed the hand manipulating the tool and tried to drag it off, but John¡¯s Strength was not to be underestimated. They had a brief tug-of-war over the bladed tool, before Mitchell gave in and let go. With a resounding snap, John forced the tool straight through the board and the wood splintered, shards digging deep into the Carpenter¡¯s arm. ¡°You¡¯re no good like this. C¡¯mon. We need to talk.¡±
George continued the looting and burning of the Raccan horde. He¡¯d quickly put a stop to any trophy-gathering, though they had taken the more¡­ intact hides, and were able to set them aside. George planned to sell them on the Market. He also set a few choice cuts of meat aside. Sentient or not, Nimbus was continuing to grow and his appetite was growing with him. He¡¯d cure the lot so he could always have meat for his partner. The weapons, however, were distributed among the people. Slings were given to everyone, though the one sword they¡¯d retrieved had gone to Aleks to present to John as a trophy of the battle. The Optio had wanted to take the beasts head, but given how scorched and mangled it was - what pieces they could find - it was a lost cause. Surprisingly, George found Ezekiel by his side, assisting him without saying much. The two had worked in silence clearing the road for an hour that morning before the first word was spoke. ¡°If we¡¯d come correct, asking to join you all, would you have let us in?¡± George couldn¡¯t speak for himself, but he could speak for Mitchell. ¡°If it were up to me, no. But it wasn¡¯t. It was up to Mitchell, or Miriam if you¡¯d managed to convince her.¡± ¡°I thought Miriam was in charge of magic.¡± ¡°She¡¯s also Mitchell¡¯s fiance.¡± George sniped as a joke. ¡°Ah.¡± Ezekiel¡¯s face fell and he again bent over to gather more debris from the field surrounding the town. They worked in silence for a few more minutes, and George could tell that Ezekiel had more on his mind. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Ezekiel dropped the severed legs of a Skirmisher, and stood up, glancing up at the sky. ¡°I miss Jacob. He was the better one of all of us. As bad and cruel as Singh was, Jacob was good and kind. I wonder, if we hadn¡¯t come and tried to take, would he still be alive? Would he have fought and fallen in the Siege? Would there be two graves there, two Heroes for us to look up to? Because now, all we have is a scratched rock that we lost in the woods to remember him by.¡± George shifted uncomfortably. He wasn¡¯t the best guy to talk about these philosophical things, so he just gave his own opinion. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d have fallen. Mitchell didn¡¯t, and he¡¯s using your buddies'' old armour. I don¡¯t think anyone would be upset if you were to make a place for him here, though.¡± Ezekiel scoffed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare. That¡¯d be like asking to put up a Raccan statue. He was an enemy to you, and that¡¯s all he¡¯ll ever be.¡± George looked to each side, seeing the closest people were still far, all the same he lowered his voice. ¡°But not to you. What was he to you?¡± With a catch of his breath, Ezekiel began to speak and told the tale of Jacob, a good man who was cut down before he could become great. A family member. A role model. A friend. As the stories poured out, so too did the occasional bout of sobs and tears, but George did not judge the Archer. No, he understood just how heavily that sort of loss can hit someone, the type where one wonders if they were at fault, if they couldn¡¯t have done more. When those exact words came spilling from Ezekiel''s lips, George dropped his shovel and wrapped the young man up in a tight embrace. The Ranger made sure to remember every single word about Jacob, the man he would never meet.
Mitchell and John walked to the end of the admittedly short dock. Mitchell took off his boots and sat on the end of the dock, putting his feet into the water. The water was cold, but not frigid. Soon, the wood beside him creaked as John sat down as well. The carpenter held his hand up, the wounds having already stopped bleeding. ¡°What did you need to talk about?¡± He asked flatly. ¡°You.¡± Mitchell said simply. ¡°You lost men. How are you doing?¡± John scoffed. ¡°At least you didn¡¯t ask if I was alright. I¡¯m doing shitty, Mitch. Tried to sleep last night - couldn¡¯t. I managed to get back for dawn and fake being asleep so Sarah wouldn¡¯t worry, though.¡± Mitchell hummed. ¡°I was wondering how we ended up with so much lumber.¡± John chuckled sadly. ¡°I figured it was my only way to get levels without the Legion. Some Legion it is, though. Just me and Jack, now.¡± Mitchell waved a hand in the air. ¡°Come off it, you know it would have been bigger if we had more time. Which it looks like we do.¡± ¡°We do. The town is a safe zone for now, but we haven¡¯t had anything or anyone show up, save for a new batch of immigrants. Makes me wonder where the hell they come from, and how the coyotes and such know to stay away.¡± ¡°I try not to think about it too hard. I might adjust the immigration settings though, I think we¡¯re good on general labour, probably need some levelled people to help run the new buildings. Tommen¡¯s settling in well, though.¡± Mitchell said idly. ¡°Might not be a bad idea. Tommen¡¯s the Market guy, right?¡± John looked over, and Mitchell gave a nod. ¡°Yea, he¡¯s a talker.¡± John trailed off, and the two listened to the burbling water for a moment before John spoke again. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do this, man.¡± John¡¯s voice was low and wavered. ¡°I think you can, but tell me why you think you can¡¯t.¡± Mitchell responded evenly, shoving his own thoughts about it to the back of his mind. ¡°It¡¯s.. We had so long, and I trained them up as best I could. I was certain, absolutely certain, that we¡¯d all make it through alive. With Sarah around, the alternative never even crossed my mind. Then we lose Gunther, and I almost lose Aleks, and Jack is stuck in the same rut I am. One battle tore my ¡®army¡¯ into shreds. What kind of commander am I, to let that happen?¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Alright, I can envision that. Give me a moment.¡± Mitchell did his best to put himself into John¡¯s shoes. It was difficult, as while he was in charge of the town, he was not directly in command of anyone but the various Core Members. Even then, it was less command and more like he was able to describe his positions in a way that made them the obvious choice. It was a tenuous balance. After a pause, he came clean. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it, John. I just can¡¯t place myself in your position here. You took a terrible loss, and it¡¯s clearly hitting you hard. I think my confusion - sorry, not confusion, but disagreement - with how you¡¯re going about this is that you¡¯re being a bit too self-pitying.¡± John whipped his head around with a glare, ready to respond, but Mitchell kept speaking over the attempt. ¡°Is that wrong? I don¡¯t think so. You¡¯re in a situation where you were thrown into a position of authority, then expected to do much with little. That¡¯s on me. You did damn well, John. Yes, a man died under your command. Are you forgetting them, though?¡± Mitchell twisted and gestured back at the shore, where all three of the Aspirants who had been assisting had taken over John¡¯s role with furious fervour. The Patriarch didn¡¯t know much about wood, but it might even have been too much fervour. Beyond them, not a single person was wandering about with nothing to do, nor gathered together as Sarah trained them on basic first aid as she had before the battle. No, despite dour, sorrowful expressions, their gazes were focussed and hands steady. John turned back to the river silent. ¡°You did, didn¡¯t you? You forgot that through your actions and those of your troops, we didn¡¯t lose a single person who wasn¡¯t ready to put their life on the line. That¡¯s absolutely insane, John. I consider myself somewhat of a history nerd when it comes to wars and battles, and the numbers you pulled it off with¡­ that just doesn¡¯t happen. You and your legion performed a miracle last night. I say this with the absolute most compassion possible - if I had to choose between Gunther, and the rest of our population, I choose Gunther. If I had to choose between Gunther and you, I choose Gunther. Fuck, John, if you weren¡¯t there¡­¡± Mitchell swallowed thickly. ¡°I owe you, man. Miri was upstairs that whole time. If they¡¯d gotten through you¡­¡± Mitchell stood, shaking his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. What¡¯s done is done. If you need a day off, it¡¯s yours. If you need to resign, do so. But don¡¯t do it until you¡¯re done. Jack needs you to pull him out of his shit. Aleks needs his commander when he wakes up to tell him that he did well. Your town needs you, Centurion. Will you allow this miraculous victory to become a defeat after all your foes are dead and gone? I don¡¯t think you will, but I could be wrong.¡± Then Mitchell used his new skill for the first time. It had gone unused all of yesterday as he couldn¡¯t decide who or when it would be used best, but here and now he realised he would never know, and he would have to take a page from John¡¯s book and just do what he thought was right, even if he wasn¡¯t certain it was the right call. Mitchell reached out, and Inspired Courage. John growled deep in his throat and as he turned and stood as well, Mitchell could see the redness in his eyes and the quivering in his jaw. Despite this, the man stood as solid as a rock and his gaze was unwavering steel. ¡°Hell no, Patriarch.¡± John set off to find his Optio, and Mitchell let out a sigh of relief.
John stood in the evening light before the Clan House, Jack by his side. The two looked ragged, but soon the rest of the Core and Inner Members had arrived and the meeting began. ¡°Why¡¯d you call for all of us? I¡¯m trying to figure out some enchantments and I really need to get back to i-¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to the dungeon.¡± John stated with finality. ¡°As soon as Aleks is back on his feet, we¡¯ll head out on a training expedition. I wanted to invite anyone who hasn¡¯t gone before. Sarah, I think you and Mitchell should stay here and hold down the fort. Miriam, I understand if you¡¯d like to as well, but I think with myself, George, Nimbus, and the Legion, we should have a good shot of making it through.¡± Mitchell ran a hand through his beard thoughtfully as Miriam spoke up. ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t realise it would be interesting. Yea, I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°Yep.¡± George said simply for himself and Nimbus. Jack didn¡¯t bother to reply, but he stood by John¡¯s side regardless. Ezekiel raised a hand. ¡°Are we included in this? Kyla and I both have high combat levels, but we can still watch your backs.¡± John paused. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want to, but yes. All are welcome to join the expedition.¡± Mitchell raised a hand. ¡°I agree with your idea, but not yet. Hold on, let me explain. You, Miri, George, Kyla, Ezekiel, and Sarah. That¡¯s a sufficient group where I think the risk would be reduced.¡± ¡°Mitch, the whole point is to train up the Legion.¡± John protested. ¡°I know. Which is why you won¡¯t be going, John. Your combat level is high enough right now that you can miss this run, but we need you to build that legion back up. I¡¯ve already reset our immigration parameters, and over the next few days you should get a few more troops with relevant skills and levels. I need you here to train them up. What¡¯s the smallest group in a formation for your class? Not the best at Roman stuff but wasn¡¯t it like 11 or 12?¡± ¡°8 per tent, ten tents to a century.¡± John responded. Miriam furrowed her eyebrows. ¡°Doesn¡¯t century mean one hund-¡± ¡°Yes, and no I don¡¯t care right now.¡± ¡°Out of curiosity, can you keep going? Century is what¡­ 80 men?¡± Mitchell inquired. ¡°81, with the Centurion.¡± John answered as his eyes flashed blue. He was consulting something in a System screen. ¡°Six centuries in a cohort, ten cohorts to a legion. Then the camp followers and auxiliaries, equines - cavalry, for those who didn¡¯t know - it all adds up to around 4000 men in a legion, but Centurions only command up to a cohort, max.¡± ¡°So one could say you are severely understaffed.¡± John scoffed. ¡°I could force conscription in this entire town and not have enough men for a century.¡± Mitchell clapped his hands together, gathering everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Alright. So John, I hate to do it, but my order is this: You are forbidden from the dungeon until you can go with a full tent at your back, and another to guard the town in your absence. Does that seem unfair, given your position?¡± John chuckled. ¡°No, not really, but they¡¯re not actually called tents, they¡¯re called contubernium and they¡¯re a unit that shares a tent when camp is made. Other than that, a century is a century is a century.¡± Mitchell raised an eyebrow and let the beginnings of a grin spread. ¡°So you want to wait for two centuries before you do the dungeon? Am I hearing this right?¡± John laughed aloud, causing a more than a few double-takes. The Centurion had been despondent since the funeral, without so much as a hint of a smile. ¡°Two tents coming right up, Patriarch!¡± ¡°You guys are so weird.¡± Kyla said offhandedly, before clapping a hand to her mouth. A faint blush spread across her cheeks. George chimed in, his tone friendly. ¡°Oh, you haven¡¯t seen anything yet. Let me tell you about how we trained for the tutorial¡­¡± The next morning, Miriam, Sarah, Kyla, Ezekiel, George, and Jack left for the dungeon. John was forbidden, but Jack was waiting at dawn with a packed bag, and nobody had the heart to go and wake Mitchell to clarify. 21. Returning George led the way through the forest to where the entrance to the ant dungeon sat waiting for them. He was unused to the noise made by so many people walking through the woods, and had to keep himself from wincing when someone mis-stepped on a branch or slipped on a rock. Kyla followed right behind him, her spear and shield in hand. The length of the spear occasionally became a problem as it banged against narrower gaps in the trees, but she didn¡¯t complain at all. Behind her, Jack strode along, looking uncomfortable but not with the exertion - rather, he continued to glance at the group, doing a headcount every few seconds as if it were a habitual tick. George felt for the man - he¡¯d been right there when Gunther had fallen, and he could only imagine the trauma and stress that would be heaped upon someone after living through that situation. Coming up behind Jack, Sarah and Miriam walked close to each other. They¡¯d been slightly upset at the implication, but George had insisted they go in the middle or rear of the formation. Miriam and Sarah both lacked any defensive skills to speak of, and wore cloth rather than armour. He would not risk either of their safety by having them at the outer edges. Miriam declined to remind him of her Mage Armour, as it was untested and she liked talking with Sarah anyways. Ezekiel brought up the rear, bow strung and arrow in hand, but he held them apart and manoeuvred through the trees with ease. Ezekiel had a knack with that bow of his, and was only getting better with it. George thought it must be nice to have a dedicated class, but then again, he could outfight the Archer in melee any day so he curbed his jealousy. They were passing the time during the walk talking about the gains from the battle. ¡°I mean, Mana Efficiency is really useful, but I almost feel like it should have been a part of the class to begin with?¡± Miriam responded to Sarah, who had asked about her new skill. ¡°I could barely cast anything until I got it.¡± ¡°Think of it this way:¡± Ezekiel offered. ¡°When I played games Before, difficult spells would have more requirements. Whether that was a level requirement or a minimum amount of mana, you couldn¡¯t just make a new character and then go calling down meteors to smite your foes, you need to work your way up. What¡¯s your cheapest spell?¡± ¡°Mana Dart.¡± Miriam answered. ¡°Though I think I can aspect it to use electric-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Ezekiel answered before she could continue. ¡°If the trend keeps up, adding an aspect will likely increase the mana cost, as would any other modifications. To keep with the game analogy, sometimes you would be able to craft spells, but until you got really good, they would always cost more than the premade spells. So stick with your Mana Dart, I¡¯d suggest. Do you know how many you can cast before you need to rest?¡± Miriam¡¯s eyes flashed blue for the briefest moment. ¡°If my math is right - and I hate that I said those words - then I should be able to do¡­ Well first I¡¯d like to brag that my Intelligence is 98, thank you very much. That puts me up next to break 100-¡± ¡°Nope.¡± George answered. ¡°I broke 100. I¡¯ve got 101 Agility. Got it yesterday during the clean-up, apparently skinning and butchering the Raccans gave me experience for both of my classes. A fair amount, too.¡± ¡°Damnit. Fine, I¡¯ll be third..¡± Miriam waited for someone to correct her, and seeing nobody rising to do just that, continued. ¡°Yea, anyways, so with 98 Intelligence, I regain about 34 mana per minute. Mana Dart costs 4- Sorry, 3 now¡­ Which means¡­ I would be able to cast it roughly 11 times per minute without risking exhaustion. Actually, without losing any Mana at all.¡± ¡°There you go. Use that as your base spell, then cast the big ones when you need them. It¡¯s like a tabletop - Mana Dart is your damage cantrip.¡± Ezekiel said proudly. Miriam blinked. She¡¯d always been trying to do new things, trying to create bigger and better and more versatile spells but what if she just tried to optimise existing ones instead? Miriam fell into her mental model and began reviewing arrays. Almost absently, Sarah reached out and grabbed Miriam¡¯s elbow to continue guiding her along the path. George fought the urge to chuckle. She was like that in their tabletop games too, always looking for the single solution, or the biggest effect. He couldn¡¯t leave it at that though, he was just too curious. ¡°Sarah, did you cross 15 during the fight?¡± ¡°Fourteen.¡± The Healer responded. ¡°I should get a new skill in the dungeon, assuming you guys get hurt. Which, without any sort of front line fighters, I imagine you will.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± George protested. ¡°Nimbus can be pretty vicious when he wants to be, and I¡¯m a melee fighter!¡± ¡°There¡¯s a difference between a striker and a tank.¡± Ezekiel continued. He was much more vocal when it came to discussing the System. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt you do damage, but do you have any defensive skills at all? Taunts? Self-heals? Anything that would let you be a tank instead of a ranger? You¡¯re more of a skirmisher-striker hybrid, from what I could tell.¡± George nodded, having already placed himself in that role. ¡°Which makes you¡­¡± ¡°Ranged striker. All my skills so far have been for accurate shots and extra damage. I just picked up an Overdraw ability which increases my armour piercing, even. Kyla is a melee striker for certain, as she has similar things for her spear - or weapons in general, I think?¡± ¡°Below a certain technology level but yea, nothing I¡¯ve found yet has been outside of that restriction.¡± Kyla answered. ¡°Do everyone else, too!¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Ezekiel conceded. ¡°Miriam is obviously a mage, which get their own classifications. I¡¯d place her as a battle-mage while Sarah would be a support-mage. With her bone-breaking and adrenaline, I can¡¯t classify her as a straight Healer.¡± ¡°My class is literally Healer.¡± Sarah deadpanned. ¡°I stand by my statement. Mitchell would definitely be a tank, as while he can take hits, it still takes him a while to actually get the kill on things his own level. John would be a marshal-type class, which typically is more rare, but relies on buffing those around you while still being in the thick of the fight.¡± General murmurs of agreement sounded, until a voice cut through. ¡°What about me?¡± Jack stood with sword, spear, and shield, dressed in John¡¯s leather armour. He looked every bit the soldier, less the horsehair mohawk - John had refused to let him wear that helmet. It was a status symbol. ¡°I only have the skills from my Legionnaire class.¡± George hummed curiously. ¡°I suppose we never really asked about you, Jack. Do you have two classes? What are they?¡± Jack laughed, abandoning the grim expression, but anyone with enough Instinct could tell it was a front for hidden emotions. ¡°¡®Course I do. Level 9 Legionnaire, Level 7 Courier. I have my Weapon Expertise from the combat class, and a minor buff to stamina expenditure from the Courier class.¡± ¡°Weapon expertise like John¡¯s? Javelins, shields, shortswords?¡± George asked to clarify. Jack grunted an affirmative. ¡°Yes sir.¡± Ezekiel hummed. ¡°It¡¯s too early to tell, but so far with your load-out it seems like you¡¯re built to hold a line, but with the lighter armour¡­ That¡¯s tricky.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Jack.¡± Sarah responded to the legionnaires look of slight distress. ¡°We¡¯ll get you a few more levels and then we ca-¡± George held up a fist and hissed out a command. ¡°Quiet!¡± The group stumbled to a stop and held utterly still. George strained his ears, listening intently, and the faintest sound of yipping could be heard. ¡°Coyotes.¡± He muttered. ¡°Still a ways off. Let¡¯s hope they didn¡¯t pick up our scent.¡± The rest of the walk was made without conversation, as the tension continued to build. Where once the sun shining through the forest brought periods of dappled warmth, now that very same phenomenon caused the shadows to seem like they were writhing and twisting, just waiting to expunge a pack of coyotes.
They found themselves in front of the shimmer in the air that depicted the dungeon, without another sign of the coyotes. Whether that was due to their stealth or due to the coyotes simply going a different direction was uncertain. They took a break out front for a brief lunch that consisted of jerky from the System Store, and a few gulps of water from their canteens. Soon, it was time to enter. George began the briefing. ¡°Alright. Since nether John nor Mitchell is here, I¡¯ll-¡± ¡°Be handing off leadership to me, the Healer who will have a full view of any battles, have the best grasp of how hard we¡¯re pushing, and has actually been here before.¡± Sarah stepped up, and George gave a sigh of relief. He wanted to run the dungeon, sure, but he in no way wanted any sort of leadership role. Stepping aside, he gestured her towards where he¡¯d been standing, as if that spot of dirt was more important for the role than the spot of dirt she¡¯d stepped off. Hiding an eye roll, Sarah turned to face the rest of them. ¡°Alright, some quick reminders. The ants of both species are strong, stronger than us, but they don¡¯t turn very quickly. In a straight line, they can be fast, and it¡¯s not impossible that they¡¯ll climb walls to get around our lines. The carpenter ants will start off hostile, but so long as we don¡¯t kill too many and make sure we rescue the miners down below, they should accept us as allies for the final fight against the Fire Ant Queen. At least, they did when Mitchell asked.¡± ¡°Weak spots?¡± Ezekiel asked, his tone all business. Sarah nodded. ¡°The joints where their legs meet the body are weak to blunt impact. We found it easiest to remove the legs then work away at the head and body after they can¡¯t move anymore.¡± Kyla shuddered. ¡°Damn that sounds horrifying.¡± ¡°It is what it is. We don¡¯t know how strong their chitin is, but we know that their own bite force is enough to puncture it. I¡¯ll go over individual units real quick - The carpenter ants are divided into Minors and Majors, led by a queen. The Minors have extensive strength and strong armour, which is only magnified in the Majors, but neither have any sort of ranged or special attacks. Their armour is also vulnerable to fire, which is why the fire ants have subjugated them.¡± Jack grumbled something under his breath, a look of anger on his face and a violent set to his posture. Sarah briefly marvelled that she could tell so much about him from a split-second glance, then continued. ¡°The fire ants are the real threat. Don¡¯t get me wrong, the carpenter¡¯s-¡± ¡°I vote we call them carps and fires.¡± Miriam cut in. ¡°For efficiency.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Sarah accepted. ¡°The carps are still dangerous, but only if you¡¯re not paying attention. The fires can use a short range flamethrower attack, but they never did it more than once in our fights which implies a recharging time. Other than that, their Queen is a monster in combat, but their armour is weaker than that of the carps, and there¡¯s less of them from what we saw. We avoided a few side tunnels, though, so for all we know, there could be thousands.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Ezekiel chimed in. ¡°So for tactics, we want to avoid getting swarmed - of course - which leads to having a backup, more mobile formation. We obviously want to keep what we discussed before, with squishies in the center, but if we get outnumbered it will be difficult to keep them off you.¡± Miriam scoffed. ¡°If any get past, they can taste lightning.¡± Ezekiel blinked. ¡°I suppose they can, as long as you¡¯re sure it won¡¯t chain to us instead?¡± ¡°Only if there¡¯s not enough valid targets.¡± Miriam said. ¡°But thankfully, I can count to three, so if I were you I wouldn¡¯t worry.¡± With their strategy discussed, and the lot of them fed, the first true party of Old Mill Town delved into the dungeon.
John stood before a scraggly group of recent Aspirants that had arrived this morning. With the levels and bonuses the settlement had gained, Mitchell had ensured that everyone arriving would be at the minimum standards to become a recruit. 12 Aspirants. Eight men, four women. All of fighting age, none with families, and all ready to fight and bleed for Old Mill Town. It was his job to ensure that when they fought, it was their enemies who bled. He missed Jack¡¯s presence. His Optio should be the one organising this, even though John could admit keeping busy was good for his own mental health. Mitchell was in the Clan House, dealing with something or other, so it was just him out here. Regardless, he knew there were certain ceremonial aspects of his position he needed to upkeep. With his budding Legion, though, he allowed more of his personal preference to show than he might have otherwise. ¡°Welcome to Old Mill Town, Aspirants. My name is John Forrest, and I am the Master of Law and Order here. More importantly than that - to you, at least - is that I am your Centurion. I am the brain behind the body of the Legion, and you will be my eyes, ears, hands, and feet. Together, we are all one unit, one Legion, and I will not tolerate any infighting of any sort.¡± John sweat under the sun and the heat getting trapped in his heavy helmet, but did not let show any discomfort. ¡°The last time my Legion fought, we were set against a vicious foe who showed no mercy, showed no qualms about killing the civilians and eating the dead. They were uncivilised barbarians, and we routed them to the last man. Yes, we took losses, but more so than that, we performed a feat of incomparable weight - the Legion held.¡± He began to pace back and forth in front of them, in the grassy spot near the eastern wall he¡¯d used for brief training before the Raccan Siege, as they had taken to calling it around the town. ¡°When every single soul in this beautiful Town relied on us to hold back the dark, we did. When all that stood between death and damnation was a few brave men, just like you all, they held strong. That is what we are, Aspirants. We are the shield that guards the innocent and the sword to punish the wicked. We are the Legion.¡± John snapped to a halt before his captive audience, then slowly and deliberately reached up, and removed his helmet. ¡°Well, I am, at least. For these first few days, you all have only one goal - keep up.¡± He placed his helmet gently on the ground in the shade, then stood, stretched, and took off at a slow jog. Well, a slow jog for him - with 36 Agility and a solid 30 in Vitality and Constitution, he could have run at a fast pace for the next hour, but he knew the new immigrants arrived at the level of the town and so he had a batch of 3rd level Humans to level up, but he couldn¡¯t even start until he was sure they could wave around a sword for more than 30 seconds without getting gassed. So for the entirety of the morning, they ran. They ran around the outside of the wall from the south gate to the north, cut back in, then ran by the docks to the amusement of the Aspirants working there - John made a mental note to see with Mitchell about what exactly could get someone bumped up to an Outer Member, as having his fresh recruits at the same rank as the Siege survivors seemed a bit disrespectful to him. When those very same dock workers stopped what they were doing and clasped their arms to their chests in admittedly sloppy Legion salutes, he sped up his pace. He didn¡¯t want anyone to see the way his face screwed up at the display. The same thing happened as they passed the farm - workers stood straight in their fields, saluting like military scarecrows, and John''s emotions finally settled as he saw that Mitchell was right. It was something he knew, deep inside, but wasn¡¯t allowing himself to feel out of guilt. Now, though, with a larger Legion taking form and the expressions of gratitude from the people he had given his all to protect, John allowed himself to slow back down and lope along with his head held high and his heart full of pride.
¡°Three left!¡± ¡°Rotating! Miri-¡± the crackle of lightning muffled the rest of the sentence. ¡°Got it!¡± The Acolyte called out, already forming the arrays for another Mana Dart. She was finding that MP wasn¡¯t her restricting factor for her spellcasting, but the formation of the arrays themselves. So whenever she found a good opportunity, she didn¡¯t hesitate to use her newer spells. She was finding less and less situations for it though, as the group settled into their rhythm. Kyla and Jack barely needed to do anything at this point - Ezekiel and George had taken it upon themselves to hold a competition to see who could get the most ants in the least amount of time, and the battle was fierce. Miriam thought that Nimbus would give George the edge, but Ezekiel was faster on the draw than her Ranger friend, so it could end up being close. So, she shot Mana Darts at any who were far away, working on her aim. It wasn¡¯t like her arrays came with an ¡®Aim Here¡¯ array - if it wasn¡¯t a guided or targeted projectile, it just came out of the arcane construction perpendicular to the plane she crafted it on. Or, to make it simple, if she put her arrays flat on the ground, the dart would shoot straight for the ceiling. She fought back a curious intuition of some sort of device she could make the arrays within in order to have a scope or some other way to aim atop of it, but she- Oh, she could just use a telescope and make the arrays small enough- ¡°Snap out of it, wizard lady. If I gotta pay attention to the combat, you do too.¡± Kyla called back to her, and Miriam cursed. She¡¯d been distracted and hadn¡¯t been firing off Mana Darts, but soon the arrows took care of the rest of the carp Minors in the small cave they were in, and the group decided to rest and discuss. It was only their fourth room, but the numbers had steadily grown, and from Sarah¡¯s experience she said the various ants were at a higher level than when they last entered. There hadn¡¯t even been any injuries yet, but she distinctly recalled the dungeon taking hours to get through, and if it kept growing at this rate¡­ Miriam dismissed the thought. They were here for loot and levels, and she hadn¡¯t gotten either yet. As George and Ezekiel fought over who had a higher count so far, she slipped an arrow from George¡¯s quiver. Stealing turned out to be less of an issue when the one in question could remake it with a small application of otherwise unused mana, evidenced by George looking down at her mid-grab and turning away conspicuously as if he didn¡¯t see her, which only drew more attention. She huffed at their antics and took her prize aside - still within the light of the odd crystals in the side of the tunnel, but not close enough to be distracted by the rest of her group. She would work on levelling up her secondary class, then, if things were mostly handled by the others. Snapping the arrowhead off, she began to sink into her less-developed but still robust mental model of enchantment. Enchantment worked largely like spell arrays did, though the arrays themselves were absent. Enchantment was more about modules than full arrays, and she would slot those together to make her own mosaic - or at least, that¡¯s what she called it, as the various modules were colour coded in her mental model. To make things easier on herself, she decided to try out a basic enchantment she¡¯d done on the walls but would need to be adapted for a held tool - a Strengthening Enchantment. As it was a simple enchantment designed to be applied directly to the material it would be strengthening, it was all but the easiest possible enchantment to create, save for one thing - In her initial attempt, the enchantment took hold, but as soon as she lifted the improvised wand off her lap, she could essentially feel the magic slip away and fade into nothing. Things continued in this manner for a few more rooms until Miriam had a breakthrough mid-combat, upon seeing Nimbus hop on top of one of the carp Minors and subsequently slide right off when the Minor dodged to the side. ¡°Damnit!¡± Miriam cried in frustration, letting the arrays for a Lightning Bolt fade as Kyla impaled the final enemy through the mouth. ¡°Guys, do you mind waiting for a moment? I have an idea and don¡¯t want to lose the inspiration.¡± Jack looked around. ¡°I uh.. Sure? I suppose I could bring out lunch.¡± Jack looked up from his bag to see many pairs of eyes gazing avidly at his pack. He shrugged with a smile. ¡°What? Legion rules - if you¡¯ll be on campaign, you bring enough food for an extra half-length. I¡¯ve got lunch, tonights dinner, tomorrows breakfast, and tomorrow¡¯s lunch. What did you think I had in here?¡± ¡°... Supplies? Which now that I think of it, would include food..¡± Sarah said offhandedly. ¡°Alright sure, let¡¯s take a break. I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s gotten hit yet, but let me do a Diagnosis on everyone while we¡¯re stopped just to make sure.¡± Jack got out some basic cooking supplies and a bag of dried potato pastries, and soon was helping George with cooking up lunch. No reason not to share the experience after all. Miriam retreated to her mental model and continued to puzzle over actually attaching the enchantment to something that was designed to move.
As the sun set over Old Mill Town, one could hardly tell the place had been host to a violent siege. A part of this was due to the Raccans lacking siege engines, or any other method of demolishing buildings and structures. Another was due to the layered defense ensuring battle never took place in one spot for too long. Mostly, though, it was due to the clean-up efforts of the Aspirants, and Mitchell knew that there was a change to be made. These people had endured the harrowing experience with grit and tenacity, and not one person could say they didn¡¯t belong here, so he¡¯d gathered everyone once again. ¡°Firstly, I would like to extend my apologies to each and every one of you. Your time is valuable, and your free time even more so. I will make this quick. With the authority of the Patriarch, seconded by the Master of Law and Order, I hereby promote everyone here to Outer Members. This is a significant moment in ou-¡± Mitchell¡¯s planned speech was cut off by a collective cheer, and as he looked over the crowd, he could see a few people even had glistening tears in their eyes. This was the result of spending extra for the cultural aspect of immigration - the people here acted as if they¡¯d been in Old Mill Town their entire lives. As Mitchell watched a couple embrace each other in celebration, their child doing a small dance, he- Wait, what? Mitchell did a double-take, and his eyes did not deceive him - at some point, a child had shown up, and he had never noticed. He took a quick moment to raise a hand. ¡°Yes, it is very exciting! Over the coming days, more Aspirants will arrive and I¡¯m relying on you all to get them situated. However, I have more good news. Tommen, step forth.¡± ¡°Yes, Patriarch! How may this Outer Member please you?¡± Mitchell cringed, knowing that the man meant it as he said it, and not with any other implication, but it still felt weird to have that level of subservience. ¡°This Inner Member may rise to his feet. You took initiative and are performing an invaluable service to the Clan. I name you friend and ally to all here, and I give you the power to induct any Aspirants you believe would be beneficial to this Clan. Do you agree to uphold the laws and customs of the Clan, both in your personal life and professional dealings?¡± Tommen looked up at him with squinted eyes. ¡°Yes, Patriarch! My life and means are yours!¡± Mitchell knelt down to Tommen¡¯s height. ¡°You understand your duties? Your responsibilities?¡± Tommen nodded solemnly, even with the grin threatening to split his face. ¡°Then stand up already, Tommen. Inner Members do not kneel.¡± Mitchell stood and raised his voice. ¡°Let it be known today that Tommen is the first of his line to become an Inner Member. You may submit a surname to the Clan archives, and those who share that name while you live shall also share your status. You may recruit Aspirants, discipline Outer Members who fail to uphold our code, and directly petition the Core Members. You are also given the right to sit in on our meetings in the longhouse. Furthermore, you are permitted to build your house within the Inner Walls. Note that since we have yet to create any outer walls, that provision applies to everyone, but once we expand, you and yours will be held close to the centre of the Town. Finally, as our primary merchant, I give you this grant of coin, that you might begin the celebration you all deserve!¡± Within minutes of the meetings end, cheap mead flowed. It was not well-made, nor was it particularly strong, but Tommen managed to get himself three barrels of it for the 50 F coins he¡¯d been granted. The first drinks were harsh, but as the people let go of their emotions and inhibitions, they let themselves feel what had been repressed by duties and work for so long. The celebration was equal parts trauma processing and ill-conceived coupling, yet despite the riot of celebration and emotion outside of the longhouse, the interior was quiet. Inside, sitting on opposite sides of the long pit, three men raised poorly carved wooden cups filled with hard spirits and raised a toast to a fallen comrade, and the recovery of one thought lost. Aleks had never drank liquor this harsh before, but as he found himself at the bottom of his cup, he wordlessly held it out to be refilled, barely noting that the Patriarch himself poured his cup without complaint. His eyes were all but locked on his Centurion, behind whose eyes he could see the exact same pain he felt in his own heart - the pain of failing a friend, and dealing with the hole they left behind. 22. Redo of Queen If Sarah were to make one observation while they progressed into the Dungeon, it was that Miriam looked as smug as a child who had tricked their way into a second helping of dessert at the family picnic - and for good reason. After the third successful arrow was enchanted to be stronger than it was built to be, The Enchanter could say she had a reliable enchantment that would not only be useful for their towns construction, but also on their own gear. At her request, she¡¯d strengthened Sarah¡¯s staff, though the enchantment wasn¡¯t free in terms of MP - rather, each enchanting took up about half of her total reserve, so she only was able to perform them right before they took a rest. Miriam had hoped aloud that her second class would give her some efficiency as well, and as she was level 8 in her Enchanter class it wouldn¡¯t be too long until she found out. As it was they were heading deeper into the dungeon, and so she focussed more on where she was than where she wanted to be. Unfortunately, that was quickly becoming boring to her. With Sarah¡¯s hand at her elbow to guide her, she dropped back into her mental model and began experimenting with adding different aspects to the Mana Dart. If the carps were weak to fire, she wanted some sort of fire bolt to work with. The rest of the party stopped short and Sarah gasped as she realized the scale at which the mine room had expanded. She pulled back on Miriam¡¯s elbow harshly. Almost a half kilometer across a deep, open quarry pit sat a pair of decorated stone doors, guarded by the first fires she¡¯d seen the whole dive - an entire platoon of twenty Minors, all lead by a pair of Majors and another smaller ant that the other fires moved in deference to. She pushed for the group to take cover and they did, quietly and quickly. A tense moment passed as Sarah watched the steady stream of carp miners carry their loads to the door, where a small pile was beginning to form. The orbs of liquid food almost looked like a pyramid of little white golf balls at this distance. ¡°Is that the queen?¡± George asked in a hushed voice, crouching low to the ground. The tunnel they were approaching from was unlit, so the scattered light of the crystals embedded in the ceiling failed to reveal them. ¡°No.¡± Sarah whispered back. ¡°No crown. Must be a new type.¡± ¡°A new mob?¡± Ezekiel asked. ¡°Good to know. That¡¯s valuable info.¡± Sarah turned back and did her best to keep her incredulity quiet. ¡°Good? It¡¯s bad. That means we have no idea how strong the queen will be. That means we have no idea if the carps will help us out.¡± ¡°Not good for us, just good info.¡± The Archer clarified. ¡°It means the dungeon scales to us, and isn¡¯t a set level. That, or it has growth, and this new mob is the result of that growth. It means we won¡¯t need to range further and further out for levels, because I don¡¯t know about you guys, but this place is handing out xp like candy on Hallowe¡¯en.¡± ¡°Yep. I got a new skill from pretty much the first engagement, and I¡¯m close to another.¡± Jack chimed in, more and more becoming comfortable with the idea of fighting without the Legion. Sarah looked over her shoulder, staying behind her cover. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to tell anyone about that?¡± Jack shrugged. ¡°It just boosts my effectiveness with my shield against weapon attacks. The ants don¡¯t have weapons, so¡­¡± The Optio trailed off. Sarah sighed. ¡°Fair enough. We¡¯ve been telling each other all of our gains, though, just in case. Please stick to that moving forward.¡± Jack gave his best version of a Legion salute he could while prone. ¡°Aye, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Is this where you allied with the carps last time?¡± Miriam asked, her focus on the situation in a rare display outside of actual combat. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything, it was your mentally ill boyfriend.¡± Sarah retorted. ¡°Hey.¡± Miriam snapped, her voice harsh even through the whisper. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡± ¡°It kind of is.¡± George responded with a wave of his hand. ¡°Dude went out on a suicide run. Just because he actually came back doesn¡¯t make the initial decision any less terrible or sound. He seems to have it together now, but still¡­¡± ¡°Do I want to know?¡± Kyla asked hesitantly. Miriam huffed. ¡°Fine. For all who don¡¯t know, Mitchell lost a good portion of his arm in the starting moments of the tutorial when we had to go up against a Spinebear. For some reason, he decided the best response to that was running out into the wilds to level up. Sarah followed him, they found this dungeon, he got a class, and came back with his hand regrown. That¡¯s the whole story.¡± Kyla and Ezekiel looked at each other, then back to the Acolyte. Ezekiel spoke first. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that your leader-guy did this dungeon with one hand? With only a Healer for backup?¡± Sarah fought to keep her jaw from dropping. ¡°Yes, but-¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty metal, you know. Like, I get that you all were there, but hearing about it after?¡± Kyla looked almost uncomfortable at the stares being levied her way. ¡°What? It is.¡± Sarah rolled her eyes and went back to observing. ¡°Glad you think he¡¯s ¡®metal¡¯.¡± George suppressed a snicker, and Sarah whipped her head around. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°Metal. ¡®Cause he wears plate.¡± Sarah lowered her head into her hands. ¡°Can we¡­ Can we just keep going?¡± George spoke up. ¡°I think we¡¯re waiting for you to tell us how you got with the carps.¡± Her face flushed with embarrassment for the briefest moment. ¡°Right. That. We just kind of¡­ Uh¡­¡± Sweat broke out across her body as she came to a terrible realization. She didn¡¯t remember if Mitchell ever explained what he did, just that he had gone down, and the carps had helped her heal him. Beyond that, she¡¯d been tired, hungry, and coping with rapid usage of her magic. There was some missing action she hadn¡¯t bothered to clarify, and now it would cost them.
Mitchell rubbed his temples with his hands, grateful that at least the weather was nice this morning. Another batch of Aspirants had shown up, and quickly highlighted a growing problem - Old Mill Town had no shortage of space, or places to produce goods, but the one thing they lacked was resources. Trees surrounded the village, ripe for lumber, but they had no way to process them into planks without John becoming a one-man factory. The river was nearby, and Mitchell saw an enterprising woman casting a rod off the end of the new pier, though quick math showed this wouldn¡¯t even be enough for a quarter of the villagers, even assuming she could catch a fish every hour. With George gone, hunting had ground to a halt, so even the watery soups they had made to feed people seemed out of reach. With this morning''s breakfast of oats - just oats - the town coffers were officially down to 10 paltry F-coins, and Mitchell had estimated that would cover around two more meals. The next morning, there would be nothing to feed the people. He¡¯d adjusted his immigration settings as high as they would go, to ensure only one highly capable mouth arrived the next morning, but their population was already approaching one hundred and it was too little, too late. Originally, he¡¯d thought the Farm would take care of all of their food needs, but it was more complicated than that. From what the Farmers had told him - and the fact that Aspirants could gain non-combat classes after a day or two at their place of work was a definite boon - the field would grow in stages. Without any previous experience with anything System related, Mitchell had ordered the entire field seeded with potatoes. This had turned out to be a mistake. Other crops were as simple as planting the seed, then having the crop go through the stages. All crops had at least three - rooting, growing, flowering. Many had more, either before, in between, or after these stages, but those three always remained. However, potatoes were considered a five stage crop. They needed to be planted in the field in a certain way on day one, day two would be an idle day as the plants grew their roots, which was actually a separate stage. Day three would see the tubers forming above ground, and would be a ¡®hilling¡¯ stage, as the Farmers made small mounds of dirt to protect and support the tubers. Day four would see flowers, Day five would have the plants wilting and the root ready for digging up. Mitchell had already watched the Farmers make their hills this morning, though it hadn¡¯t taken them long to work the single acre of farmland that the Farm had come with. He had a feeling that with upgrades to buildings or the town itself, that area could increase, but it was equally likely he would just need to buy more farms. Which brought him back to his current problem of lacking money. He knew they could sell things on the System Store, but with a quick experiment, he¡¯d found that the exchange rate was absolutely horrendous. He¡¯d bought himself an item worth a single F-coin, a bundle of twine, and tried to sell it back to the System Store, only to recoil when the sale price was a single percent of an F-coin. Wether that meant they were being scalped by paying 100 times more for their goods, or if the sale prices were just that low was irrelevant. At the end of the day, using the System Store for selling goods was a horrible idea for anyone. So he got up and went to go see Tommen, his first Inner Member of the clan, who had equally given him hope and dashed it away. ¡°Looks like I could sell this for¡­ well that¡¯s no good! Only a half of a woody? I think not.¡± Tommen scoffed while shaking his head in dismay. ¡°This must be some terrible twine indeed. Did you make it yourself?¡± Mitchell grimaced. ¡°No. I bought it.¡± Tommen looked at the twine critically, then placed it back on the countertop of his market stall. ¡°If you paid more than a single woody, you got ripped off.¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, woody?¡± ¡°Ah, I suppose I could call them F-grade currency if I wished, but that¡¯s a mouthful when you¡¯re trying to barter with people so I shortened it! Do you like it?¡± Tommen seemed very interested in his opinion, so despite the uncomfortable level of attention Mitchell nodded. ¡°It¡¯s good. I suppose you¡¯ve already got a name for the E-grades?¡± ¡°Once I figure out what they¡¯re made of, which is my current goal! A few more sales, some shrewd tactics, and I¡¯d be happy to let you be first to know when I accomplish such a majestic feat.¡± Mitchell blinked once more. ¡°Come again? Some more sales?¡± Tommen looked abashed for the first time during the conversation. ¡°Er.. Yes. It¡¯s almost criminal, but given our lack of laws, I saw fit to go ahead with the plan. You see, our poor recovering Legionnaire-¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Mitchell raised a hand to stop him. ¡°Tommen, you are an Inner Member of our community. If I learn you¡¯ve been ripping off our Clanmates, we¡¯re going to be having some aggressive words.¡± Tommen¡¯s face paled and he backed up a step, holding his hands up to ward off the Page. ¡°No, no! If anything, we¡¯re scamming on their behalf! See, Aleks was finding things difficult and apparently he¡¯s got some sort of Artist secondary class? So he came to me asking if the System sold any paints, or anything of the sort, and while they do sell something called an Artists Kit, it runs an entire E-grade coin to purchase, which is beyond our own means. However, being the shrewd and successful merchant I am, I found a roll of parchment for him!¡± Mitchell quirked an eyebrow, but let the Merchant continue his story. ¡°Alas, the poor man could not afford such a thing, however he assured me that The Master of Law and Order had approved the opening of a line of credit for wounded Legionnaires, and so I fronted the cost myself.¡± ¡°You seem a little happy for having given something away for free.¡± Mitchell responded. ¡°Oh, no, not free! On credit my good sir, a credit which has already proven lucrative. If this poor Merchant''s eyes are correct, I believe the man himself is on his way back. Hail, Tiros! How has this morning''s endeavor gone?¡± Aleks had seen Mitchell standing there and had looked like he would pivot and walk away, but steeled himself at the Merchant¡¯s greeting and had strode over gripping a sheaf of ragged parchment scraps in his off hand. ¡°Hail, Patriarch.¡± The man responded, dipping his head in respect. ¡°None of that, now. How have you been Aleks? I admit I was hoping to spend more time with you after your injury, but I see you have it well in hand.¡± Mitchell said, gesturing to the surprisingly well crafted crutch under his arm. His pants still hung low, but there was notably only one boot coming out from the bottom. Where his other foot should have been was bare. ¡°The Centurion crafted it himself last night. So far it¡¯s good, but my armpit is starting to feel a bit raw, sir.¡± Mitchell smiled at the man''s attitude. ¡°Good to hear! We¡¯ll have Sarah take a peek when she gets back, though I expect if you added a bit of padding to the top, it¡¯d be more comfortable.¡± ¡°That¡¯s actually what I¡¯m doing now, sir.¡± Almost protectively, Aleks deposited the sheaf of parchment onto the counter, and Tommen¡¯s eyes immediately snapped to the dirty papers. Mitchell looked down, and saw the rounded lines of a face before Tommen whisked the lot of them off the counter and placed them on a shelf below. ¡°Same deal, oh great artist of Old Mill Town?¡± ¡°Same deal, my shrewd friend.¡± Tommen slid a few wooden tokens across the counter, and Aleks pushed one of them back across. ¡°Ah, with that you are paid off in full. Are you sure you wouldn¡¯t like to purchase something else with the Core groups generous donation of credit?¡± Aleks whipped his head to stare at Mitchell, then back to Tommen, then made a few more double-takes before dipping his head. ¡°Aleks, meet the bottom of a bus, I guess. Sorry, Patriarch, I just¡­ I needed to occupy my mind somehow.¡± Mitchell looked down at the Tiros, various ideas flitting through his mind but one being the most prominent. ¡°Report to your Centurion, and work with him until I arrive to discuss this. In the future, however, if you ever make any agreements on behalf of the Core Group, you will be busted down to Aspirant so quickly you might as well keep walking once you¡¯re out of those walls. Do I make myself clear?¡± Aleks stiffened, sweat starting to become apparent on his face. ¡°Yes, Patriarch! Right away!¡± The man looked pained for a second, before leaning his crutch on the market stall and shuffling his way into a salute before grabbing the wooden implement and hobbling off. Tommen waited until he was out of hearing distance before speaking up. ¡°You know, he¡¯s a pretty good artist. I¡¯ve already made around 300 F-grade coins off his a-¡± Mitchell whipped his head around to stare at the Merchant with an almost manic look to his eyes. ¡°Three hundred? How many has he made?!¡± ¡°Erm¡­ around seven, counting these three. You did say I didn¡¯t need to tax purchases, but the one percent should have given you three woodies at least.¡± Tommen explained shiftily. ¡°And those are where?¡± Mitchell prodded. Tommen sighed and pulled a small, locked box out from under his stall. Pulling out an ornate key which was attached to a length of suspiciously familiar twine around his neck, Tommen opened the box and turned it around for Mitchell to see. Sure enough, three small wooden disks rested inside the box. ¡°I was going to wait until he was done today then let you know how well our art seems to be doing on the System Store. Three coins just isn¡¯t much to get excited about.¡± Mitchell grabbed the coins, then stepped around the stall and dragged Tommen into a hug. ¡°You beautiful man! You just ensured we have breakfast tomorrow!¡± A hand clapped over his mouth. ¡°And if you want anyone around for breakfast the next day, you¡¯ll never say that out loud again.¡± John¡¯s voice said coldly from behind him. ¡°Now explain why you¡¯re disciplining my Legionnaire.¡± Mitchell froze, and stayed frozen Tommen extracted himself from the Page¡¯s embrace, dusting off his outfit. ¡°Centurion, plea-¡± Aleks¡¯ voice also came from behind him, and Mitchell¡¯s options changed drastically. He didn¡¯t mind Tommen seeing past the mask a little bit as an Inner Member, but to bring the man himself was poor form. However, he could see how it would be necessary from John¡¯s point of view - they had to know that their commander would go to bat for them, even against the Patriarch of the village. ¡°Quiet, Tiros. The Core Members are speaking. Patriarch?¡± John prodded with no small amount of testiness. ¡°Aleks, tell the Centurion what you did.¡± Mitchell said as he turned and met John¡¯s gaze. There was some small ember there, but not the fire he¡¯d expected. ¡°Centurion, sir! I deceitfully informed Mr. Tommen of the creation of a casualty credit fund, sir!¡± Aleks reported. John tilted his head. ¡°Why did you do this, Tiros?¡± ¡°Sir! The Aspirants are making rumours that we will run out of money and food, sir! I wanted to do my part for Old Mill Town!¡± John whirled about on his soldier. ¡°And tell me, how does that translate to scamming a member of our community?¡± Aleks gulped. ¡°Sir! I¡­ well¡­¡± ¡°Do you know what I think, Tiros?¡± John began, but he didn¡¯t allow Aleks to respond. ¡°I think you needed something to do, to take your mind off both your injury and the loss of a comrade. I think you believed I would disparage you for this, and so went around me to lie and cheat your way into what you wanted. Tell me, Tiros, which of those two things do you think that I am the most upset about?¡± Aleks actually sat silent for a moment, thinking, then his posture deflated. ¡°The second, sir.¡± Mitchell gestured to Tommen to bring the art out, to show John, but the Centurion was focussed. ¡°That would be correct. As a punishment, you are on decoration detail until I see fit! You will spend every single second of light creating art! That art will be judged, and if it is found wanting, I will hang it above your bed, so you can see your failure every night! I¡¯m even willing to spend my own money on a candle, just so you can see it in the dark! You will bring each work to me, and I will determine if this art is worthy of your time. When you can go an entire day without producing crap like thi-¡± John looked down at the counter, and his voice caught. His hand whipped out and he grabbed the top sheet of parchment, holding it before his eyes, and his face went from stern to shocked. Mitchell knew why. On that sheet of parchment was a dramatic charcoal depiction of a Legionnaire standing atop a pile of jagged, black and white corpses, gladius raised high and cape fluttering in the breeze. As John strode off towards the clan house with purpose, Mitchell and Aleks shared a glance. One did not have to look at the parchment too hard to see the visage of Gunther.
¡°This is less complicated anyways!¡± Jack shouted from his spot at the front of the formation, which was dangerously close to the cliffs face. Given the quarry-style pit, though, they had no choice if they wanted to bottleneck the ramps up to what they were considering the ground floor. He had two carp minors pressing up against the shield, but his Strength was enough to keep them at bay. ¡°I said sorry!¡± George shouted out, then cursed as he rolled away from a blast of fire. Nimbus was much less graceful in scrambling away, clawing his way up to George¡¯s shoulders and hissing at the Fire Ant Major as it spewed flames up the ramp at them. ¡°Less talk, more fight!¡± Kyla called them into focus from beside Jack, her spear lashing out lightning quick to pierce into chitin, eye, and mouth alike. With her wooden shield and the fire ants, she¡¯d turned to using her spear with two hands, and its power and speed could not be denied. Unfortunately for them, the carps were attacking in tandem with the fires after George had shot at one of the fires from across the room. With a half kilo of distance, it was inevitable that some drift would occur, as even caves had minute wind and drafts in them. In a stroke of bad luck, the arrow had sunk down into the neck of one of the carp workers carrying food, and that had seemed to set the entire anthill into a murderous rage. There were hundreds of them, and each and every one of them was out for human blood. Sarah could see it all easily from where she stood. Her job was fairly easy - look out for injuries, bop with the staff, cast a few spells rinse, repeat. So she spent her extra time trying to plan. ¡°Miri! Give me a Lightning Totem on the ramp up!¡± A gleam flashing in Miriam¡¯s eyes and soon the extensive set of arrays were popping up in the air, one after another in a cascade that still ended up taking two whole seconds to completely form before the multiple layers smashed together into one whole, and the spark shot outwards to plant itself halfway between the ground floor and the next one down, right in the middle of the ramp. With a fizzle¡­. Nothing happened. ¡°What the fuck?!¡± Miriam yelled. ¡°You can¡¯t just take my mana and not give me a spell! Broken ass-¡± Sarah tuned out her friend''s curse laden tirade as her mind swam with all of the possibilities. Was it due to the low ceiling? Did they need to be outside? It didn¡¯t ultimately matter, it just mattered that the Lightning Totem was out of the picture. As she watched, Miriam unleashed a Lightning Chain, frying three more of their assailants in her frustration. It was as a drop in a bucket. By that point, at least a hundred giant ants had emerged from the tunnels below and more poured out every second. Sarah knew they weren¡¯t getting through to the queens; It was taking almost all they had to even hold back the tide of writhing chitin. A Major even managed to break through, heavily injured, and met a spray of sticky, flaming liquid that shot from her Chitinscald Gauntlet. The armour gave her a combat option but given it only had a range of about 15 feet, she wouldn¡¯t be emulating Miriam¡¯s steady streams of darts any time soon. To her right, the open path to the cave they¡¯d entered from loomed large in her mind. To her left, Ezekiel and George were rapid-firing arrow after arrow into the crowd. In front, Jack and Kyla stood and did their best to keep the overwhelming numbers back, and took steady minor injuries for their efforts. Sarah¡¯s MP hadn¡¯t been above half for the majority of the battle, each point being spent as soon as she could without draining herself too low that she fell unconscious. It was a balancing act, as her spells didn¡¯t have flat costs associated with them - it depended on the severity of the injury and the size of mass she affected. For his part, Jack had broken through to the tenth level near the start of the battle, and his new Shield Brother skill seemed to give him a boost to attack when he targeted a creature that was attacking one of his allies. It made for an odd sight, to see Kyla and Jack working together to attack each other¡¯s assailant, but Kyla had quickly realized they would be more effective that way, and she¡¯d been right. The basic intelligence of the ant workers wouldn¡¯t allow them to realize the concept of a battle line, and so they died in droves without ever seeing what killed them. It wasn¡¯t enough. What really sealed the nail in the coffin - and Sarah did have the decency to wince as she thought that phrase - was when Miriam had finally decided she had enough of the darkness and the flickering shadows, and cast her Flare Gun spell in the middle of the cavern, revealing a flanking force of over a hundred ants making their way across the cavernous ceiling. Even as they watched, a few of them flinched at the sudden blinding light and lost their footing, tumbling down to the quarry floor below. Where they promptly got up and rejoined the mass making their way up the ramps. ¡°We need to call it!¡± Sarah yelled out. ¡°We aren¡¯t getting through, not like this!¡± ¡°We hold the line!¡± Jack called back, though she could hear the tension in his voice. ¡°Better to die fighting than tired!¡± The Healer grit her teeth. ¡®Why do all men need to be so dramatic about fighting?¡¯ ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Ezekiel said, his words making their way over the din of battle. ¡°I¡¯ll be out of mana for arrows soon. Nimbus is gaining no experience sitting back here. We should retreat, regroup, and come back later, when we¡¯re stronger.¡± George scoffed. ¡°Worry about your own cat, buddy. Nimbus and I share battle experience. Besides, if we¡¯re stronger, so is the dungeon. Might as well give up on it altogether!¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t going to go powerlevel,¡± Ezekiel said with a tense exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m saying we head back to town, rest, and come back with a proper tank and tactician.¡± ¡°Are you talking about Mitchell? Or John?¡± Miriam asked in between castings. ¡°I don¡¯t care, either of them!¡± Ezekiel yelled back, his emotion finally making its way into his words. ¡°But if this were an MMO, we¡¯re playing like a bunch of idiots trying to force character deaths! Am I the only one concerned that our whole plan was ¡®blitz the dungeon¡¯?¡± Sarah¡¯s worry finally had a form she could put thought to, and she made the call. ¡°Fighting retreat! We fall back to the entrance in formation, and we¡¯ll make our way out.¡± She had tested as soon as they had entered, and she was able to exit the dungeon now. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was something about them, the dungeon, or the Tutorial that had changed, and frankly she didn¡¯t care. It was time to leave, and they actually could, so they would. It took them all of five minutes to fight their way to the tunnel. Not a single ant followed them out of the quarry zone as they made their way back to the entrance, and emerged out into a cloudy, moonless night. Faces were disappointed but relieved - their loot was paltry, but they were alive. The group all but collapsed into their beds when they finally made the hours-long trek back home. The only positive thing that could be considered, George thought, was that with all this traffic, at least the trail home was getting easier to follow. 23. Immigration John and Mitchell stood at the Eastern Gate, awaiting the morning''s arrival in the shade of the wall. When he had first gained access to the Immigration menu, Mitchell had tried to strike a balance between skilled and settled citizens, and sheer population numbers. What he had never done before, was devote every single XP the settlement generated and put it all into a single person. That single person strolled along the burgeoning path now, and Mitchell had to blink at the sheer garish elegance of the figure¡¯s outfit. Pale blue and gleaming silver quartered tights sat under a fine grey tunic tied at the waist with a silver cord. A mantle of soft fur stretched across the shoulders, and a floppy blue hat sat upon the head. A rakish smile peeked out as the person - a man, it was now clear - lifted their gaze and spread their hands wide. Blonde hair and blue eyes adorned a severe, angled face that nevertheless screwed into an expression of curiosity and joy. ¡°Greetings from myself to Old Mill Town!¡± The man called out with a Mediterranean accent they couldn¡¯t place. ¡°We return your greetings?¡± John said haltingly, and Mitchell had to fight the urge to sigh in exasperation. ¡°Old Mill Town welcomes you, traveller!¡± He called out over John¡¯s reply as he stepped forwards, ¡°I am sure you are weary and wish to rest, but we have yet to actually build a tavern or inn of any sort.¡± ¡°I am well aware. I would assume that you are this settlement''s Creator, though please forgive the assumption if I am incorrect!¡± The man¡¯s voice was enthusiastic, bordering on boisterous. ¡°I am.¡± Mitchell answered, slightly taken aback at how well-informed this man seemed to be. ¡°My name is Mitchell Lefluer, and I am the Creator and Patriarch of this Settlement. Who might I be speaking with?¡± For some reason, Mitchell had a brief flashback to answering a phone call for his workplace Before, but quickly dismissed it. ¡°We have the mutual pleasure of being in a conversation that contains Dalton McAlroy al¡¯Signhi DuVrais Allicent Tony Weltherford. The second, to be true, but my father has long since perished and I will bear no sons, so that really does not affect my name anymore. I believe I am correct in assuming your companion to be John Forrest, Master of Law and Order here?¡± The man gave a sweeping bow while he introduced himself, and Mitchell noted with surprise that the man''s outfit was impeccably clean, despite walking out of a forest. ¡°Hail, stranger!¡± John called out as he walked up to join the conversation. The man laughed. ¡°I am no stranger! Why, I volunteered for this most fortuitous duty. I am not sure if your enlightened self was aware, Patriarch, but you have passed a threshold recently. I will not deign to tell you how to run your own settlement, but I suggest we start by turning your immigration off for a few days.¡± John held a hand out in front of Mitchell, as if he were just going to pull up his screen and do what the newcomer said right there. ¡°I apologize, Mr. Weatherford-¡± ¡°Weltherford¡± The man interrupted. John sucked in breath through his nose. ¡°Mr. Weltherford. You have our sincerest apologies for the lack of decorum, but who the fuck are you?¡± John finally asked. ¡°I told you, my name is Dalton McAlro-¡± Mitchell slapped his hand against his forehead while the man rattled off his names. ¡°-ony Weltherford.¡± He paused. ¡°The second.¡± ¡°I think what my fellow here was trying to ask,¡± Mitchell clarified, ¡°is who you are to the Settlement? I placed all of the xp into one person, and it¡¯s you. Why is it you?¡± Dalton blinked. ¡°Have you not inspected me yet?¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°We consider that rude, here.¡± He lied, having let his skill fall to the back of his mind recently. ¡°Oh. OH! I see. Well, in the rest of the Systemized Universe, you would definitely be in your rights to protest an unwarranted scan, but the general rule is that scans need to have a purpose - doing one on someone spontaneously all but announces your intention to attack and they are now within their rights to defend themselves. Long story short, you are welcome to scan me now, and I will not consider it an assault. Go ahead and do that now.¡± Mitchell shrugged and did as he asked, activating his Inuit skill, which just told him that Dalton was loyal, friendly, and- ¡°What does obligated mean in this context?¡± ¡°Well, unlike the generated beings you¡¯ve had showing up so far, I am an actual Systemized citizen! My father was a minor noble on a planet that has long since passed its prime, and I didn¡¯t want to join eight brothers, three sisters, thirty-four cousins and an aunt in the contest for the throne.¡± Dalton explained. ¡°As nobles, we are obligated to perform our duties in a method above reproach. Are you familiar with the Charter of Nobility? I believe your culture Before had something like it called noblesse obligate or something along those lines - you did have way too many languages on this ball of dirt, you know. To end my rambling, I am an E-Rank Advisor from the planet Tuurth, though I am willingly reducing my level to that of your town.¡± ¡°Really?¡± John said flatly. ¡°Tuurth?¡± Dalton nodded. ¡°Believe it or not, every single human planet rhymes. I¡¯ve been to Tuurth, Tearth, Perth, Yu-ur-ff, and Birth. What was your planet called? Maybe I can help you come up with a good name that isn¡¯t taken?¡± Mitchell chuckled, but only because he didn¡¯t know what else to really do in the face of this man. ¡°You really don¡¯t know, then? Welcome to Earth, Sir Dalton.¡±
¡°This is¡­ quaint.¡± Dalton said as he ran a finger along one of the gazebo¡¯s railings. ¡°You do all your meetings outside, in front of everyone? Not a poor system, though it does leave your authorities highly vulnerable to assassination.¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°Not typically, no. However, a fair amount of our Core group returned from a Dungeon early this morning, so we¡¯re letting them rest in the house. Can I interest you in some breakfast while we await my Administrator? We have oats, right now, though I can see about setting you up with System Store credit down at our Market?¡± Dalton smiled and revealed shining white teeth. ¡°No need, though your generosity is surprisingly welcome and noted. No, my family is not so minor that they would allow me to leave without a small fortune. Also, we do not require an administrator, though I must confess I am unsure as to that class. And to the rest of it, to be completely honest with you. Why was your council in a dungeon? How would they even fight anything?¡± Mitchell looked at him out the side of his eyes, as he watched the dock workers continue to build the small row boat in the faintly falling sprinkles of rain. ¡°How do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean an Administrator class or a Hunter class shouldn¡¯t have any skills for combat. Yet your Administrator and Master Hunter still went to go try a dungeon.¡± Dalton explained his confusion. ¡°I was a Warrior before I was an Administrator.¡± Kyla yawned out as she tucked herself under the protection of the gazebo. The air wasn¡¯t quite cold yet, but it could definitely not be called warm. ¡°Kyla. Admin. Who¡¯re you?¡± ¡°I am Dalton McAlro-¡± ¡°He¡¯s our new advisor.¡± Mitchell cut off the burgeoning speech. ¡°Dalton, meet Kyla, Warrior and my Administrator.¡± Dalton narrowed his eyes, before sighing. ¡°Well, now that you¡¯re here, we can hopefully continue. There¡¯s a lot of work to do to get this place up to standard, and not much funding to do it with. Firstly, could you please ask your Administrator to assign me as the settlement¡¯s Advisor?¡± ¡°Kyla? First, sorry for making you get up early. You can go back once we¡¯re done here. Second, would you mind terribly?¡± ¡°Ahem. ¡®Dalton-¡¯ Damn, are those all middle names? Whatever. ¡®Has been suggested as Advisor to the Settlement of Old Mill Town. Please respond to thi-¡¯ I assume you want me to just click yes, then?¡± Kyla asked, rubbing at her eyes. ¡°Yea, slot him in. We did ask for him. What does being an Advisor even do?¡± Mitchell answered. ¡°Done. Levelled. I¡¯m going back to bed. Thanks for the free stats.¡± Kyla answered curtly before shuffling back to the house and closing the door softly behind her. ¡°Firstly,¡± Dalton began, ¡°Thank you for your show of trust and for giving me this opportunity. Secondly, I will need some time to familiarise myself with the current status of your Settlement, but I do what I am made to do - I advise. I have knowledge on every possible permutation of Settlement including their upgrades, and an extensive font of knowledge regarding classes, though there are a few new ones every time so I will not have complete knowledge. For instance, I can take your Page of the March class all the way to B grade, should we last that long. However, Mr. Forrest, I cannot help you with your Centurion class. It is entirely foreign to me, which must make it a new addition.¡± John blinked. ¡°Really? I got a new one? I guess Rome didn¡¯t really exist on Tuurth or whatever.¡± Dalton frowned. ¡°No, We had no ¡®Rome¡¯, or whatever. But I also doubt you ended up with SkyShapers or Winged Knights here, so let us accept each planet is unique in its own way. I can help with the Carpenter class, though.¡± John paused for a moment. ¡°Fair. My apologies.¡± Dalton brightened immediately and waved it off. ¡°Nothing to concern yourself over! As I was saying, I will require some time to acquaint myself with your town, so if you- You made a Dictatorship.¡± His voice quickly went from chipper to flat. Mitchell fought the urge to roll his eyes. ¡°I did, though we function more as a council.¡± ¡°...alright. You got to third level quick enough to offset the immigration issue, though it will still slow your growth down. You also have- how do you have absolutely no experience for your Settlement? What, did you just start immigration on the first day?¡± John and Mitchell looked at each other. ¡°Say no more. Homestead was a good choice for the organisation. Your values are alright, though you will miss out on a lot of Divine perks for placing Theocratic works last. Interesting that you put Economic Strength first when you haven¡¯t any source of income. It will really start to shine as soon as you get your first Min- oh dear.¡± ¡°Oh dear?¡± Mitchell asked. ¡°You have no potential Mine locations. That could change as we expand or improve our capabilities, but right now you are missing the primary method of gaining income. How did you even make these buildin- Ah, now I see, you had a local dungeon. I¡¯m assuming your Stone came from there, so that confirms this as being a competitive Tutorial Instance. In that instance, your goals should either be to assimilate every Tutorial participant into your settlement, or to neutralise all other Settlements in the Instance. However, our issue still lies with your lack of income.¡± ¡°So what do we do? We have an injured veteran making charcoal sketches that he sells on the store, and they¡¯re worth way more than we think they should be, but what else can we do?¡± John asked.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Dalton blinked. ¡°I apologize, this may be a cultural divide but I must ask - What is a veteran in this context? My translation tool appears to have given me a definition of ¡®old man injured in battle¡¯, and from my view of your settlement demographic, you have precisely one man beyond 50 of your Earth years, which does not quite fit. If you are truly a dual-class integration, though, this veteran should have a secondary class they can use to create income.¡± ¡°We use veteran to refer to any who have undergone military service. Also, yes, we all have two classes. He¡¯s an Artist¡± Dalton¡¯s eyebrows furrowed, but he seemed to tuck away the class discussion for another time. ¡°Would it not be easier to refer to those who did not? Serve in your military, that is.¡± Further conversation revealed that Tuurth was a much different place than our little slice of rock in the grand reaches of space, though both Mitchell and John were treating it as more of a foreign country than anything. It hadn¡¯t really clicked that they were definitely speaking with an alien, human though he may be. In this ¡®country¡¯ everyone was conscripted to their Nobles army from the age of 14, which was the Age of Application on Tuurth - the age when a child would first gain access to the System and would be able to begin training their stats. Mitchell eventually had to cut the rambling man off. ¡°Alright, so we don¡¯t have mines. You¡¯re telling me that the prices for our art are only so high because we¡¯re new, so that will fall off soon too. We¡¯ve got the dungeon-¡± ¡°Not worth it until you build the Dungeon Gate. Too risky.¡± ¡°Which does¡­?¡± ¡°Other than ensuring easy, unfettered access to the Dungeon? It will replace the Instance timer with an Instance count that will grow with the Settlements level. In practice, you can have as many parties Delving as you have Instance Slots. It will ensure that any earned loot is provided upon exit - you would not believe how often a Delver would walk past a Purple Spotted Violet Mushroom or the like and not realise it was the most expensive piece of loot in the dungeon. It will create temporary chests and present them to the party upon exit. A tad more on the morbid side, in the unfortunate event that someone were to¡­ expire, within the Dungeon, it would recreate them a week later, though again that time reduces as you level up the settlement. Finally, once you have one, you can link it to other Dungeons that members of your Settlement have cleared.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°No way we¡¯ll get a hundred E coins any time soon.¡± Dalton blinked. ¡°Soon? Oh noble Patriarch, if you think this tutorial will be over within the next two seasons, and all of your planets aligned in harmony, you may possibly be close to accurate. As for gaining the money, this is not impossible. A Shipwright could craft you fishing boats, which would solve your immediate food problems and generate some ongoing income. A Leatherworker could craft armour for your militia to use, as well as further income. Your art will likely lose its lustre in the next week or two, and I doubt that it will be long before the crafting Tutorials start to flood the market with their works. This is frustrating! I am unable to share my funds with you. I have a C-coin in my personal inventory right now, and I quite literally unable to withdraw it. Vexing.¡± ¡°Alright. You¡¯re fine for breakfast. You¡¯re fine to acclimate. I¡¯m going to¡­ go for a walk.¡± ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡± John said in response. ¡°Wait!¡± Dalton cried. ¡°You still need to place me in a caste!¡± Mitchell halted. ¡°Never call them that. Respect is granted upwards only if earned. Respect is mandatory downwards at all times. We are not separating people into different levels of worth as people, we are determining who is responsible enough to be granted the trust of the Core in fulfilling duties. I name you Outer member for now. We shall see how your contributions measure up.¡± ¡°Well if I may, why don¡¯t you head to your¡­. Really? It¡¯s free! Just put in a fence!¡± Dalton talked the two into the creation of a ¡®Training Pit¡¯, which was indeed costless and an applicable structure, which even beyond the benefits of the Pit itself, provided enough settlement experience to gain us the fourth level. With immigration off, it would be roughly a month before the Settlement gained enough experience to level again, but for now, Mitchell had things to do. Namely, gaining paltry amounts of experience in the Pit.
¡°Sounds rough.¡± Miriam said as she idly played with a wand in her hands. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re giving him enough credit, though.¡± ¡°It just rubbed me the wrong way, you know?¡± Mitchell poked his mouth above the water to say before dipping it back underneath and continuing to scrub soap through his beard. Miriam had refused to sit somewhere private and chat while he stank so bad from the Training Pit, and he agreed with her quickly. They¡¯d gone a minute or two downriver, where the dock and the corner of the Old Mill were still visible but the sounds were faint and muted. ¡°He walks up like he¡¯d assumed we were going to take him for what job he wanted.¡± ¡°We did need advice. And you did say you set the Immigration to only give us one person. Not three hours after him showing up, the Settlement gets an upgrade. As far as job interviews go, he¡¯s a shining candidate.¡± Miriam set the wand beside her and watched her fiancee bathe. ¡°It¡¯s not like he¡¯s trying to be our top Merchant like Tommen is.¡± Mitchell dunked under the water and quickly resurfaced. ¡°Tommen¡¯s different. He was here for the Siege. Dalton¡¯s an outsider, and I¡¯m fairly certain he¡¯ll always be an outsider. He came from another planet, for Christ¡¯s Sake!¡± Miriam tilted her head and grinned. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I never considered it but that would be a great name for a Japanese themed bar.¡± Mitchell blinked, then let out a guffaw. ¡°I get it! As far as I¡¯m concerned he might as well just be from another country, right?¡± Miriam shrugged. ¡°If that helps. I don¡¯t really think it matters, though. You made sure he was culturally compatible? Skilled?¡± ¡°He said he was an E-grade advisor, but he took a penalty to come here.¡± ¡°Here, as in our little slice of purgatory? Or here, as in this planet?¡± Mitchell paused thoughtfully. ¡°Do you think he has a spaceship?¡± ¡°If he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯s a pretty poor alien, and therefore not much of an alien at all.¡± Mitchell blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes and blinked again. ¡°Huh. I don¡¯t know why, but that actually helped a lot. He¡¯s not really an alien, he¡¯s just a dude from far away.¡± ¡°Ah, ah, my love. He¡¯s a rich dude from far away.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t spend it on us.¡± Miriam waved her hand, as if shooing the idea away. ¡°It would be a shame if every time he were to go buy himself a cheap, conservative meal, one of our terrible citizens just stole it right out of his hands. Why, he¡¯d have no choice but to buy another cheap, conservative meal!¡± ¡°I¡­ no, that actually does feel like stealing for some reason. I couldn¡¯t ask him to do that.¡± Miriam sighed. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll bribe him with some magic in exchange. Then it¡¯s a transaction, and you can sleep easy.¡± Mitchell stood and gave her a big, soaking wet hug. She squealed. ¡°If you don¡¯t get off me right now I¡¯m gonna dart you!¡± Mitchell gave her a big grin. Her face turned serious. ¡°Mitchell.¡± He lifted her up, momentarily surprised at how effortless it was. He kept looking into her eyes, which were starting to dart around in something vaguely approaching panic. ¡°Mitchell Lefluer if you soak these robes again- you bastard!¡± He¡¯d thrown her out into the deep water and with a laugh, paddled after her. She came up spluttering and after regaining her bearings, hit him with her coldest glare. With her hair plastered around her face and robes soaked through, she looked miserable, though he could tell from the twitch of her lip she was trying to keep a smile down. ¡°I¡¯m gonna dart you.¡± Mitchell laughed again and swept her up in an embrace. Their lips met, and the world faded away for the next few minutes.
¡°Sounds rough.¡± Sarah sympathised from the impromptu wooden fence that hadn¡¯t been there when they¡¯d gotten back in the early morning. She was still tired, but it would be easier to get their sleep back on track by pushing through it regardless. John let out a non-commital grunt by her side. He was fashioning yet another wooden Gladius to go on the rack. Each day, she noticed him becoming more efficient with his work. Even the wood beneath her hands was sanded clean and free of splinters, despite looking like a fallen branch. She made a mental note to get him some sort of varnish when she could. She only hoped it wasn¡¯t yet another potion ingredient. A sprained ankle had been her last injury to heal on their trek home, and she hadn¡¯t shared that it was also the last push of experience she needed to get her Healer class up to the next skill unlock. She hadn¡¯t been sure what she was expecting, but having random ferns and other items - including John¡¯s sweat - bringing themselves to the forefront of her attention was disconcerting. She had unlocked Alchemical Mastery, and with it came some sort of sense that she could look at common objects and determine whether or not they were viable alchemical ingredients. It made no sense to her. The river? Definitely viable. A cup filled with water from the river? Unviable trash, get it away. However, when it was presented to her by someone else - she¡¯d left it on the dock - all of a sudden it was viable again. She imagined it was more magic than science, the art of alchemy, if the bearer of an ingredient changed it to such a degree that something become viable or not. ¡°I meant having to deal with Mitchell the whole time alone, by the way, not the wood.¡± John grunted again. ¡°He¡¯s not that bad.¡± ¡°He put you on house arrest.¡± Sarah protested. ¡°The advisor agreed that was the best course of action. My class does best with at least a tent¡¯s worth of Legionnaires backing me up, or so he thought.¡± John explained. ¡°You literally just told me you have a new class that he hasn¡¯t seen before.¡± John put down the half formed sword, but kept his gaze focussed on the dirt. ¡°What do you want me to do, Sarah? I feel like a fraying rope that keeps getting more weight piled on, but I can¡¯t tell him I¡¯m fraying or he¡¯ll replace the rope. What happens if I snap? What happens if I end up with more weight than I can handle?¡± Sarah¡¯s heart ached for him. ¡°Then we handle it together. And if that doesn¡¯t work, we involve others. John, I don¡¯t know why I need to tell you this when you know him better than I do, but Mitchell wouldn¡¯t ever want you to strain yourself so hard you snap. In fact, if it was even an option, I¡¯d make sure he sent you on a vacation.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t. Nobody can. He¡¯s got all the power.¡± Sarah rolled her eyes at that, though she wouldn¡¯t have if he¡¯d actually been looking. ¡°See, you say that, but when¡¯s the last time he actually decreed anything? Sure, he¡¯s setting things up now, but in a month? A year? I find more and more that I don¡¯t mind that he¡¯s in charge. I think he chose what he did because of the system itself, not because he wanted to do it.¡± John frowned. ¡°He used to talk about benevolent dictatorships. He used to say ¡®if the world was lucky enough to have the right person, a dictatorship would work faster and more efficiently than any other method.¡¯¡± Sarah shrugged, and nudged his shoulder. ¡°Maybe. Maybe not. But this isn¡¯t the Earth we knew anymore, and we aren¡¯t going to change that any time soon. But you¡¯re the master of Law and Order. If you think there needs to be a law about usage of power, he¡¯d listen.¡± John sighed and picked up the sword again. ¡°It¡¯s just more that I have to do. Another weight. Another fraying strand.¡± Sarah hopped the railing and grabbed herself a sword form the rack. The wood felt heavy, and it balanced oddly in her hand. She swung it around a few times, even giving a ¡®Hah!¡¯ as she attempted a thrust. ¡°What do you think, can I join the Legion?¡± John¡¯s developing chuckles morphed quickly into muted horror and confusion. ¡°No! What? Why?¡± Sarah smiled and beckoned him towards the Pit. ¡°Teach me how to fight. Properly. Without spells. My MP won¡¯t last forever and maybe this way, I could have your back just as much as you¡¯ve had mine.¡± John didn¡¯t stand. ¡°I don¡¯t want you in the middle of the fight. I don¡¯t want you anywhere near the fight. I don¡¯t think I cou-¡± A pressure against his chest stopped him. Sarah came close and kneeled down before him. ¡°I was making a point, John. We all have our places. You¡¯re our Centurion. You lead the army. You train them. You look out for them. Don¡¯t worry so much about the rest of us. That¡¯s Mitchell¡¯s job, and he volunteered for it. The only thing outside of the Legion you need to worry about is the occasional bout of carpentry, which from what I¡¯ve seen you enjoy.¡± She trailed off and paused, letting him respond. John looked up, despondent but with the faintest flicker of life in his eyes. Got him. ¡°I do, I really do. It¡¯s simple. It¡¯s quiet. And I get to create, rather than watch things be destroyed.¡± John said slowly, choosing his words carefully. ¡°Would you call that another weight?¡± Sarah asked curiously. ¡°When you¡¯re asked to do something for the Settlement?¡± John thought for a minute before speaking. ¡°No,¡± He answered finally, ¡°I do it and I see how it helps us, and it doesn¡¯t¡­ wear on me, so much.¡± Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m no therapist or life coach or anything, but I think that - to keep with the rope analogy - that¡¯s not a burden you bear on yourself for a reason. It¡¯s work like any other, isn¡¯t it? Without that wall, we¡¯d have been equally ill-prepared as if you¡¯d never trained the Legion. What¡¯s the difference?¡± John¡¯s head dipped low in thought. Sarah smiled. ¡°While you consider that, get up and teach me something. I may not be looking to join the legion, but it couldn¡¯t hurt to know which side to stick in someone. You use the rounded end, right? To make a bigger hole?¡± John stood and looked at her aghast for a moment before his frown faded into a neutral face. ¡°You¡¯re messing with me.¡± Sarah smiled more and made a stabbing motion with the pommel of the sword. ¡°Swish Swish Swis- oof!¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± John said sincerely as he held her tight for the briefest moment before stepping back and looking her up and down critically. ¡°Well, you asked for it. Get running!¡± Sarah blinked, looked down at her wooden sword, then back up at him incredulously, doing her best puppy dog eyes. ¡°Running?¡± John chuckled. John laughed. ¡°There¡¯s no point training with a sword while fresh, not when you¡¯re new. So let''s go get our muscles all noodley, and I¡¯ll teach you how to not let go.¡± ¡°Noodley?¡± Sarah took a step back. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± He reminded her, and took off at a slow jog. As she kept up, he increased the speed until he heard her huffing and puffing behind her, then slowed it back down. She couldn¡¯t see from behind him, but John had a wide smile spreading across his face. Sure, his rope was taut, and frayed, and definitely in danger of breaking. But with each step, his mental image of that rope wound itself tighter, and tighter, until it was a single thread of shining steel. He would not break. He would stretch, and bend, and become damaged. But he would not break.
George lounged in the branches of a tree, hiding a snicker as he once again spotted Ezekiel creeping through the brush beneath in search of something. Nimbus sat curled up on his chest, where the sun peeked through the branches, and the Ranger let out a sigh as warmth suffused his body and the steady purring of Nimbus lulled him into a sense of peace. ¡°Life is good.¡± Nimbus meowed in agreement, and George gave a faint smile before he drifted off into his nap. 24. Progress The Safe Haven granted by the System after the Raccan Siege came and went, though the time was spent busily and with as much productivity as the Clan could manage. George spent his time hunting and cooking. If he spent all of his time on it, he could usually make enough food to cover a large dinner, though they still needed to supplement the meats with other foods from the System Store to stave off malnourishment. Nimbus never left his side during that time, and the two grew even closer as George began to recognize the various meows and chirps his cat gave him beyond what anyone other than Sarah could. His Cook class finally crossed 15 after cooking for so many, and his new skill - Efficient Prep - which simply made him move faster and more accurately while chopping, dicing, mixing, and many other minor actions that weren¡¯t the cooking itself. He even got some minor spells, though his MP was never high enough to be a frequent caster. Sarah spent her time working with animals. A single mule and Nimbus were the sum total of the animals within the settlement, but it was enough to finally get her to her next skill at Animal Handling 15 - Gentle Approach. It was a passive that made her less concerning to a panicked or skittish animal. Not entirely useful yet, but Sarah found a measure of satisfaction in both of her classes being similar in level. Miriam went on an Enchanting spree. Every single log, nail, plank, and tool within the walls was fortified with a durability enchantment. It applied to entire tools, as well, so when she got to the bladed tools, the workers were ecstatic about how long they lasted without needing to be sharpened. They were harder to actually sharpen, sure, but at least the dock workers confirmed that it was a worthy tradeoff. She managed to raise her enchanting level up to 12, but the experience dropped off after that - she would need more complex enchantments if she wanted to push her level further. Her Level 10 skill was a wash anyways - it would help her learn new enchantments from a mentor or colleague with more ¡®comprehension¡¯, whatever that was supposed to look like. Mitchell managed the settlement with the help of Kyla and Dalton. The Advisor quickly proved his worth, as just after the potato harvest, the farm was reset to tomatoes. He explained that in stage-based growth, plants like vines and trees would be better than full harvest crops. True to his words, once the Tomato vines had grown, they produced a new batch of tomatoes every day. Even more importantly, Tomatoes were a novelty on the System Store just like Earth art, and so they were actually able to sell them for an F-coin per dozen. With an acre of farmland, their income shot up. The main roadblock at this point was having the manpower to harvest enough of the tomatoes, though Dalton assured him that as their settlers gained in their levels, they would gain skills to help with that as well. Given they could harvest thousands of tomatoes in a day, that ended up being twelve and a half E-coins per day. Even more importantly, it got Tommen to the point of gaining another skill, and he was now able to make requests for purchase on the System Store, instead of just browsing and hoping. Dalton assured them that the price wouldn¡¯t last forever, so the majority of the harvest either sat on the vine unable to be picked or was sold. Kyla spent her time rearranging jobs. A lot of the new, unskilled Aspirants didn¡¯t have any sort of class yet, and her Administrator class¡¯ level ten skill gave her some intuition into who would be best placed in which profession. It also gave her experience for doing so, though she ended up just short of the last level before she got another new skill. However, she did finally assign various people to be the heads of their various workplaces, which increased efficiency even more and finally allowed the Docks to begin constructing a small fishing boat once they had a foreman. Kyla even assigned a man to become the first fisherman, though at this point he just bummed around at the docks. According to Dalton, all of his fishing equipment would spawn in when the boat was finished. It looked like it would take a couple more days for that, though. John trained up his Legion with Jack¡¯s help, and the two of them managed to whip a full tent worth of Legionnaires into shape. He assigned them to be gate-guards, as the week¡¯s work had also included removing the roadblocks they¡¯d placed for the siege. With 8 soldiers, he had them working in shifts of 3 each, with either Jack or himself filling out the last position. His Centurion class levelled to the point where he also got a new skill, though one he didn¡¯t see being used any time soon. He gained the Fortify skill, which allowed him to create small outposts that would count as a defensive structure so long as it was manned by 20 or more Legionnaires. Given that he only had ten, including the disabled veteran Aleks, creating such an outpost was simply not possible. He did, however, talk the rest of the Core group into allowing him to purchase some minor upgrades for his Legion using the tomato profits. Proper, steel-tipped spears, sturdy boots, and a barrel full of javelins. It ended up running them 25 E-coins, but considering that was two days worth of income for the whole village, he knew he wouldn¡¯t be getting such a large share for the Legion for a while. They even made a show of it all, upgrading the gear in exchange for their service during the Siege. Most of the Legion wasn¡¯t there, but it was important to have the Legion itself be seen as a consistent entity even if the members might change. The most important thing though, was finally being able to pay the people who worked for the town. A handful of F-coins here and there, and all of a sudden people were walking away from the market, smiling. One woman bought a quilt. Another man bought a bag of grain. People finally had the means to address their needs, and Tommen was more than happy to accommodate. He was quickly becoming the richest man in Old Mill Town. All in all, the town was beginning to actually act like a town, rather than a group of desperate refugees, and it was this state they were in when the Safe Haven status finally ended just after sunset on the seventh day. Kyla had scheduled a meeting between the Core group, despite not being part of it herself, and Ezekiel was invited to attend as well.
George again lounged by the fire, Nimbus purring on his lap. The cat had grown with the Ranger, but still managed to fit on his lap, despite the black fur spilling off the sides. Everyone was here, John had assigned a pair of his Legionnaires to guard the longhouse at Dalton¡¯s insistence, and Dalton himself was standing below the small raised platform, in front of and to Mitchell¡¯s left. Kyla had dragged over a stool, but was at the same spot on his right. Mitchell took a deep breath and began. ¡°Alright. Thanks for coming, everyone. I think that with all the work we¡¯ve done, we can finally take a breath. Our people have money. They are starting to fit in with their jobs. The town is gaining experience. We have food, even though I¡¯m getting a little bit sick of tomatoes. So I wanted to open things up so we can determine our next steps. So far, I know we need to expand our farms, we need to create the rest of the buildings we have available, we need to expand the Legion, and we need to finally explore the area around us and map it out. Let¡¯s deal with the last one first. Has anyone found someone with a Cartographer class or something like that?¡± Ezekiel raised a hand. ¡°Patriarch - do I need to call you that, still? - I still don¡¯t have a secondary class. I could try to get that cartography class for us?¡± Miriam cut in before anyone else could speak. ¡°It seems silly now, but he''s planning for if we grow. The UN used some rules none of us know, but the general respect of titles is a good idea.¡± There was a beat of silence, then it was broken as Sarah answered the original question. ¡°Only if it¡¯s what you actually want. Classes become a large part of yourself, and if you hate drawing maps, we won¡¯t force you to draw maps.¡± The Archer shrugged. ¡°At this point, I¡¯d take anything. My Race level is still locked at 5, which means most of you have at least ten points over me in pretty much everything. If drawing maps is what we need, I¡¯ll start drawing maps.¡± ¡°If it were up to you?¡± Mitchell asked, gazing curiously at the relative newcomer. Ezekiel paused for a moment before answering in an embarrassed tone. ¡°I like to explore. When I was younger, I would always be running off into the woods when we went on family hikes. Going down into caves. Climbing trees and rocks. It made me happy to see something and imagine nobody else had ever seen it, that I was the first. I don¡¯t think ¡®Generic Explorer¡¯ is a class though.¡± Dalton raised a hand. ¡°No, but you could acquire the Pathfinder cla- What¡¯s so funny?¡± Mitchell waved it off, stifling his chuckle. ¡°Nothing, nothing. Just a game we used to play had the same name, so it¡¯s always good to get someone new on the Pathfinder bandwagon.¡± Dalton blinked twice. ¡°Allright¡­ Well the only requirements for Pathfinder are quite simple - go find an animal-made or natural trail and follow it to a significant geographic location. A beach, mesa, rock formation, lake, cave, or any other deviation from the standard layout of the local region. Then, leave path markers on your way back. It needs to be on land though, if you do it on the water you¡¯ll end up with Navigator.¡± Ezekiel rose without further words and walked out the door. It was so abrupt that nobody stopped him. George sighed and stood, Nimbus hopping deftly off his lap. ¡°Suppose I should make sure he doesn¡¯t get eaten by wolves or coyotes. Or Spinebears. Or Giant- You know what, I¡¯ll just go with him.¡± Nimbus let out a meow, batted a stray stick into the fire pit, and followed George out the door. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ezekiel¡¯s just a do-er. It¡¯s been bothering him all week.¡± Kyla excused. ¡°Though I may go ask if they wouldn¡¯t mind heading down-river. Riverfish are nice, but the ocean is pretty much endless food. I''ll try to delay them until morning, at least.¡± Mitchell waved his permission, and Kyla took off out the door too. ¡°Not much of a meeting anymore.¡± John shook his head. ¡°Nothing on the docket has to do with hunting, so we should be able to keep going.¡± Mitchell pondered that, then continued. ¡°Well, someone can fill him in later. Next, I¡¯ll tackle literally everything else in one go. Here¡¯s my plan - we sell the next batch of tomatoes, all of them. The price is already starting to drop, though, so we expect only 8 E-coins from that. We use those coins for 8 more farms - unless there¡¯s any reason we shouldn¡¯t?¡± Dalton raised a hand. ¡°You would need to clear enough land for them, but the spread of crops would be more than worth it. You could even remove reliance on the System Store, at least for foodstuffs. Tomatoes are a good cash crop, but you could also plant water-grains or dry-stalk grains. I imagine you eventually wish to repair the Mill, which I would heartily recommend - even beyond foods, Mills are used to process parts from carcasses into magical reagents. Luckily, you have a Tutorial Instance with wandering monsters.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like what that implies.¡± Miriam commented. ¡°Which part?¡± Mitchell asked, ¡°the Tutorials being different, wandering monsters, or the idea that wandering monsters could be considered an economic factor?¡± Dalton shook his raised hand to regather attention. ¡°I can address all of that. Yes, there are multiple types of tutorials, and multiple instances of each type. The one you are in appears to be some sort of survival focussed one, though it is odd that you haven¡¯t received any sort of Tutorial Quest. Usually that will tell you what the goal of the tutorial is, how to complete it, and the various fail-states.¡± Miriam¡¯s face paled. ¡°The only thing we ever got was a survivor count.¡± Dalton whipped his head around. ¡°Excuse me? Like, once you get down to a certain amount of survivors, the tutorial ends?¡± ¡°No. It only says Survivors 2203/5000¡± John said flatly. ¡°Which means we passed half of us at some point since the Siege.¡± Sarah looked visibly ill at the news, while Mitchell sighed with sadness and rubbed his brow. Miriam raised an eyebrow. ¡°I mean, we did expect this, right? We didn¡¯t exactly take a long time to get set up here, and I imagine most groups were like Kyla and Ezekiel, not much more than a camp in the woods. Then we had to defend. We knew the Raccans went for their camp. I assumed we were all just not talking about the fact that they likely assaulted every camp or settlement in the area.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s our fault.¡± John answered easily. ¡°2000 people dead, and it¡¯s our fault.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Dalton cut him off before he could continue. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t presume so much. This is even worse than a Survival tutorial. That just takes away all resources and gives you a time limit to survive for. Usually wandering monsters get tougher as time goes on, but that¡¯s it. There shouldn¡¯t be any dungeons, or Settlement Stones - access to those is usually given to the higher ranked as a reward after the Tutorial, not lying around for just anyone to find.¡± Sarah glared, the annoyance cutting into her nausea. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it was just lying around.¡± ¡°Trust me when I say that comparatively, it was. There are much more cutthroat Tutorials. This one seems like there''s a hidden condition, which is not unheard of. All you can do is make peace with the fact you might be in here a while.¡± Mitchell held his tongue about the singular quest still sitting in his Status screen. He desperately hoped that the end of the Tutorial did not involve what he thought it did, because if that was the true end-state, he would have to find out some other method. The very thought of being the last one standing filled him with revulsion. ¡°Alright, so let¡¯s make the best of it.¡± Miriam declared. ¡°You know a lot about the System and how it works. You know about tutorials. You have an overview of our town, our population, and what we can do. What would you suggest for next steps?¡± Dalton hummed in thought. ¡°You have the right idea with the Farms, though I would definitely get the Mill as soon as possible. Some buildings won¡¯t show up as an option until you have the prerequisite goods they need to run. For example, without both leather and metal, you will never be able to create an Armourer. Without grains of some sort, you wouldn¡¯t be able to create a Mill, though you have ruins on your land which overrides the requirement. Once you have a milled grain, you can create whatever Earth¡¯s version of a grain-loaf is.¡± John coughed. ¡°Do you mean bread?¡± Dalton waved it off. ¡°Different planets, different grains, different names. New varieties of grain-loaf and the powdered grains-¡± ¡°Flour.¡± Sarah provided. ¡°Yes, well, they tend to also sell highly, especially if you can bring it above your current Tier. I can see confusion, so let me break down production: An F-grade crop of grain harvested by a mid-level F-Grade Farmer will gain the ¡®Quality¡¯ tag. Your Cook lucked out in that regard with the skill he¡¯s got. Quality grain processed by a mid-grade Miller will gain the High Quality tag. Having a mid-grade Baker create bread out of that will create the Exemplary tag. Any further boosts will change that Exemplary tag to a Low Quality tag of the next Tier. So the more processing you can do in-town, the better your profits will be. The same applies to any other goods you make here.¡± ¡°Define mid-grade for us?¡± Miriam asked, having procured a sheaf of parchment and a charcoal stick at some point during the explanation. ¡°Mid grade is generally considered from levels 40 to 60 in the applicable class. Most crafters end up getting enough skills by that point to reach outside their previous bounds.¡± The room collectively slumped in disappointment. ¡°We¡¯re only at¡­ I think Kyla has a 20+ Warrior class, but that¡¯s it.¡± John provided as explanation. Dalton grinned. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s even worse than that. Your NPC¡¯s won¡¯t be able to reach 40th level until your town reaches 4th level, which brings up my next question: Is there a specific reason you are holding out on upgrading buildings? You have close to twenty residential buildings out there, which is almost triple what you actually need if you keep them upgraded.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°First, I didn¡¯t know it was possible. Second, we¡¯ve been kind of busy lately. Third, we have no idea how any of this works, so I think we¡¯ve done alright so far.¡± Dalton held up both hands. ¡°Please don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m not complaining. But you had to have seen that the Clan House was all the way up to level 3? It¡¯s a small investment in either coins or materials, but the upgrade happens instantly. It will increase production, and because of that it will also increase the growth rate for workers there. My own city had a road called Woody Way, and I had eight Carpentry Shops there, low and high from Tier F to Tier C. We were a B Tier Nation, so it wasn¡¯t too much of a burden, but we can bring a fresh NPC from F to C grade in no longer than 2 years.¡± He said this last part smugly. ¡°Define Tiers, if you would?¡± Miriam asked, her charcoal stick writing so fast she almost appeared to be scribbling. Dalton looked at her oddly as he dropped his hands. ¡°F,E,D,C,B,A,S. Seven Tiers of existence. We refer to F and E as the ¡®Mortal¡¯ tiers, D and C as the ¡®Hero¡¯ tiers, B and A as the ¡®Immortal¡¯ Tiers, and S¡¯s are just S¡¯s. Each tier is a qualitative leap above the previous. For humans - and I can only speak to your Race level, as I¡¯m fairly certain gaining dual classes is new to humans - once you hit level 100 in your Race, the System asks if you¡¯d like to evolve. It isn¡¯t mandatory, but almost nobody refuses. Your 100 levels of stat boosts are locked in, half of them are consumed to fuel the transformation, and you end up as an E-Grade Human. Any racial skills tend to evolve, and you¡¯ll get more stat points per level. You also gain an extended lifespan, doubling what you currently have.¡± ¡°And these NPC¡¯s - still need that defined as well - will also evolve? I imagine the Town will too?¡± Miriam asked rapid-fire, her charcoal not stopping. ¡°Pretty much anything can evolve so long as it meets the requirements.¡± Dalton answered. ¡°N.P.C. stands for Non-Prior Citizen. We use that term to refer to System-created persons who were not present on the planet before the Systemization - they tend to interact differently with the System than natural borns, clones, or the Initiated. You¡¯re Initiated, by the way, if you ever end up interacting with other Systemized worlds.¡± John stood up with a groan. ¡°It¡¯s too late for all this crunchy stuff. I¡¯m gonna make a round then head to bed.¡± Sarah joined him. ¡°I¡¯ll do the same. See you all in the morning. I imagine you¡¯ll have some sort of plan for us?¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Not sleeping until I have at least the next week planned. Have a good night, guys.¡± ¡°¡®Night, Mitch.¡± John said, and the couple walked out into the cool night air. Mitchell threw another log on the fire, noting absently that they needed more firewood. The log crackled and sparked. ¡°I meant that, Dalton. We aren¡¯t going anywhere until our next week is planned out.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like it would need much planning. You need to build more farms, use their output to gain more income, use that income to create processing buildings, make even more income, then diversify.¡± The Advisor answered. ¡°That¡¯s a nice plan. Let¡¯s talk details.¡± Miriam said with an almost predatory glint in her eye. Dalton squirmed on his bench, then they all got to work.
The next morning, John and Sarah were there to see the exploration team off. They¡¯d packed light, though George insisted he had everything he would need. The sounds of the town awakening were beginning to become routine. The distant drone of collective conversation wafted over from the Market, and the sound of wood planers scraping against timber cut over from the river. ¡°It¡¯s just a walk through the woods. I¡¯m the deadliest thing in the woods. Stop worrying so much.¡± Sarah scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m not worried, I¡¯m just here to make sure you all know what to look for.¡± With Dalton¡¯s advice, she¡¯d spent a small fortune - a single E-coin - on a Beginner¡¯s Alchemical Testing Tube. The device was designed to hold a specimen, and destructively analyse it for alchemical properties. Sarah had also procured a loosely bound sheaf of parchment, even gaining a Bookbinder class out of an old man named Thorn. The man seemed very happy to finally have a defined place within the town, and promised to bind any books the Core group needed free of cost. Dalton told her all they needed now was some books to bind, at least until the craftsman hit a high enough level that he could create the materials wholly from MP. She handed the tube carefully over to Ezekiel. ¡°Please, as many flowers, mushrooms, or colourful insects you can manage. I have the Mastery required to start making potions, but literally all of Earth¡¯s flora is undocumented right now.¡± ¡°Wish we could just eat things like-¡± ¡°No, George, do not stick unknown objects in your mouth.¡± Sarah repeated for the third time. He rolled his eyes and gave a quick gesture. Nimbus hopped from his shoulder up into a nearby branch, and Sarah marvelled at how said branch was at least ten feet up and five away from where they stood. The little cat was getting stronger. ¡°Well, we¡¯re off then. Three days max.¡± Ezekiel said. ¡°If we¡¯re not back by then¡­ well, I don¡¯t know. Mourn us with alcohol.¡± George nodded solemnly. ¡°Copious amounts. Get Miri drunk for me.¡± John grinned. ¡°I¡¯d bet there¡¯s worse things than a drunk wizard, but the list can¡¯t be that long.¡± Sarah nudged John with an elbow. ¡°Safe travels. Come back safe.¡± George gave a lazy mock salute and began loping off down the very minor trail that had formed through foot traffic. Kyla and Ezekiel gave each other a glance, then followed him. ¡°So?¡± John asked. ¡°What¡¯s on the docket today?¡± Sarah shrugged. ¡°No idea. Mitch¡¯ll tell us when he¡¯s up. Until then, I was going to go say good morning to Archie. Wanna come with?¡± John frowned. ¡°Who¡¯s Archie?¡± Sarah smiled coyly and gestured him to follow. ¡°Incredibly reliable dude. He¡¯s hard-headed, stubborn, but a hard worker. Honestly, John, he was one of the first males to enter the settlement.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± John pushed down the growing jealousy. He wasn¡¯t an outwardly jealous man, but it always stung a bit to hear her compliment other men. ¡°Does he have a job or a class or something? Maybe I do know him.¡± ¡°I mean, he¡¯s one of a kind. And really, we just understand each other so well that¡­ John?¡± John had stopped and was squinting at her. ¡°Are you talking about the donkey?¡± Sarah kept a straight face for all of three seconds before she burst out giggling. ¡°The mule, you big genius. Yea, I go see him every morning to grab a bit of experience for my secondary class. We really only have the one labour animal to work with, so I want to keep him in good shape.¡± John chuckled himself. ¡°Really? I could easily outdo any animal you put in front of me.¡± Sarah rubbed her chin in thought. ¡°So you¡¯re saying we should make a rickshaw for you to carry us around in? I suppose you would be faster and stronger than a mule¡­¡± John caught up to her and urged her to keep walking. ¡°Whoa now, could does not mean would. Or will. Or anything like that. I ain¡¯t pulling a cart.¡± She laughed. ¡°We¡¯ll see¡­¡± The morning was quiet, and John spoke a few quick words with the Legionnaires on duty as they passed by. Despite the small group, they all seemed to hold him in very high regard, latching on to each word and saluting with pride. It made John uncomfortable, but he hadn¡¯t realised it had shown outwardly until Sarah brought it up. ¡°Every time we walk away from your guys, you look like you just bit into a lemon. Like, you thought it was an apple and just went for it, but were surprised to find it sour.¡± Sarah nudged him gently with her shoulder. ¡°Wanna share those thoughts before they get too stuck in?¡± John glanced at her out of the side of his eye. ¡°It just feels weird, that¡¯s all. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve done enough to deserve that level of res- Ow! What the hell, Sarah?¡± Sarah rubbed her reddining palm from where she¡¯d slapped his arm. It wasn¡¯t a light tap. ¡°What is wrong with you guys? Why is George the only one that''s actually fine with where he¡¯s at? Miriam won¡¯t stop studying her book. Mitchell literally did a suicide mission and dragged me along. Now you think you don¡¯t deserve the respect? John, are you forgetting you single handedly stood between our people and death? Literally being eaten alive, if Mitchell is to be believed? What about defending during the rest of the siege? Even before the town, you were the entire reason we didn¡¯t get eaten by Pokey the Bear. You¡¯re hot shit, baby. I¡¯d join the Legion too if I wasn¡¯t so busy.¡± John laughed, his concern alleged, if not forgotten. ¡°Oh? You want to serve under me?¡± The things Sarah said next were quiet and private, but after her words, John took off running for the Market, and Sarah couldn¡¯t help but burst out in laughter. Both of their faces were bright red.
In a clearing hours away from any other person, a scraped marking in dirt sat beneath a willow tree. An Archer and a Warrior piled stones from the surrounding woods. The stones sat layer over layer in a pyramid formation, or as close as one can get without any stoneworking. A Ranger watched from the nearby trees. The third layer was carried with stubborn stoicism. The fourth with the beginnings of fatigue shadowing their movements. The fifth saw the first tear fall. ¡°Damnit!¡± Kyla yelled, throwing the rock she¡¯d been carrying back into the forest. Her voice was tense, and she sniffled before speaking again. ¡°He was such a piece of shit!¡± ¡°He was our piece of shit.¡± Ezekiel murmured as he passed by her, a heavy stone held in two hands. ¡°He fucked around, and he found out.¡± Kyla whirled around on him. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say about it? You saying he deserved to be eaten?¡± ¡°No.¡± Ezekiel said simply, placing his stone and robotically returning to the woods to find another. Kyla looked at him exasperated, pain writ large across her face. ¡°Why are we even doing this? He doesn¡¯t deserve our efforts, right?¡± ¡°He was ours. Nobody else will, so we do.¡± Ezekiel answered in that same monotone voice. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit, dude! You know how many people died Before and had nobody? They still cremated or buried them or whatever!¡± ¡°By the government. As a health measure. His corpse was gone.¡± Kyla¡¯s gaze snapped over to where George waited patiently against a tree. ¡°Well, spook? What¡¯s your government gonna do about the deceased?¡± George shrugged, choosing not to engage with the second question. ¡°I¡¯m not that spooky.¡± ¡°Yea, you are!¡± Kyla latched onto the argument. ¡°You¡¯re dropping out of trees. Shooting people when they didn¡¯t even know you were there. You¡¯re literally the definition of spooky. You have a black cat, for Christ¡¯s sake!¡± George frowned. ¡°That points more towards witch than spooky.¡± Kyla gave a pained laugh. ¡°You are a spook. Don¡¯t think we don¡¯t know why you came with us.¡± George leaned off of the tree he was propped up against, sensing the shift in emotion. ¡°Oh? Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡± ¡°You¡¯re here to take us out, just like you guys used the siege to kill Singh. Sure you all put on a pretty front, but I know you¡¯re a dictatorship. If that Patriarch of yours-¡± ¡°Watch it, Ky. Don¡¯t say anything you can¡¯t take back.¡± Ezekiel warned as he placed another stone. ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck! You think he¡¯s not infallible? Who¡¯d he make do it? Kill an unarmed, helpless prisoner? Tell me!¡± George frowned deeper. He really wouldn¡¯t put it past Mitchell to just get rid of Singh. It was a thought he¡¯d often held himself, so it wasn¡¯t impossible for the Patriarch to have it too, but¡­ ¡°Nah. I see how you got where you did, but Mitchell isn¡¯t that type of guy. Refused to let us gag him when he was singing all day. Stopped some violence a couple of times. He¡¯s probably beating himself up over it all right now. Now, if I was in charge, I would never have taken him prisoner. He was an enemy to us, so¡­¡± Kyla glared at him. ¡°Asshole.¡± George scoffed in surprise. ¡°Bitch.¡± ¡°You¡¯re both being stupid. I¡¯m not leaving until we¡¯re done, so either help or shut up.¡± Ezekiel said flatly, placing yet another stone. Kyla looked between him and George, then grumbled something venomous and returned to work. In a clearing hours away from any other person, a scraped marking in dirt still sat beneath a willow tree. An Archer and a Warrior continued to pile stones from the surrounding woods. The stones sat layer over layer in a pyramid formation, or as close as one can get without any stoneworking. A Ranger sighed and spitefully helped to carry stones. He wasn¡¯t an asshole. 25. Contact Underneath a vast canopy a days travel away from an unmarked memorial, a small collection of former logs now crackled merrily as coals. They shed sparks that danced and weaved through the air, and as a fresh reveller was added to the pile, the sparks shot forth in celebration. A collection of stones stacked around the bed of heat formed a small platform, atop which sat a small, iron pot. A man sat on a log beside the pot, using a crudely carved wooden spoon to stir the mixture within. From behind him, a hooded figure approached, and the cook heard the complaint before it was actually voiced. In the weight of the approaching steps, in the gait, and in the huff Nimbus sent his way. ¡°It goes in the pot.¡± George stated with no room for discussion. ¡°But it¡¯s gross.¡± Ezekiel whined. ¡°It looks like two cantaloupes were bumping uglies right when they got hit by an ACME anvil.¡± Kyla snorted, then schooled her features as she approached with another batch of the brown mushrooms they¡¯d been gathering for the past little while. Every so often, they would find another type of fungus or flower and bring it back, where a small pile sat waiting to be analysed by the Alchemy tool.. ¡°If the Cook says it goes in the pot, it goes in the pot. He¡¯s here to feed us. You¡¯re here to find some paths. I¡¯m here to silence dissenters.¡± ¡°I mean, I think I¡¯m supposed to make the path?¡± Ezekiel guessed. ¡°Objection is irrelevant and overruled. Into the pot it goes.¡± George commanded, and Ezekiel dropped the oddly shaped fungus into the Cook¡¯s outstretched hand with a sigh. Then he blinked, as in the split second between George dropping it into the bubbling brew and it vanishing below the murky liquid, the misshapen ingredient shifted into an almost picture-perfect toadstool. ¡°Alright, so now you¡¯ve got some stat boosting ingredients, some general restoration ingredients, and some mundane stuff to tie it together. Can I ask why we¡¯re not waiting for the person with the alchemy skill to do this?¡± Ezekiel asked, hesitantly. He¡¯d found it hard to keep confidence in this situation, where it seemed like both of his companions were better than him at the Class he was trying to get. George scowled, though the fierce expression didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Because, Ezekiel, we aren¡¯t making a potion. I¡¯m making mushroom soup.¡± Kyla smiled. ¡°I thought so. I used to love mushroom soup. Really warms you up on a cold day. I didn¡¯t realise you brought milk or anything though.¡± George looked over at her slowly. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of cream of mushroom soup. This is just gonna be mushroom soup. I¡¯d normally add some chicken stock and some flour for flavour and texture. Butter. Fresh sage. But out here, we¡¯ve got mushrooms, so I¡¯m cooking mushrooms.¡± ¡°But-¡± ¡°Let him Cook, Ezekiel.¡± Kyla chided. ¡°That being said, if either of you want to make the case for livestock farming to Mitchell when we get back, that¡¯d be great. Or, hey, if you get your second class, maybe you can find me some wild giant chickens or something. Food and levelling, all in one. At least flour should be coming soon.¡± George explained, trailing off into muttered complaints. ¡°Cream of mushroom soup¡­ oh sure, let me just whip up something that took society hundreds of years. That¡¯s what, three, four different types of farms needed? Cows, chickens, wheat, herbs, mushrooms¡­¡± ¡°Then why did you add the potion ingredients?¡± Ezekiel asked, snapping George out of his muttering. George blinked, then shrugged. ¡°Maybe I can make food that gives buffs. I hardly see a Cook class only being able to cook mundane food. That¡¯s kind of a waste of a class, so I¡¯m gonna make it work.¡± Another log got thrown on the fire. ¡°Eventually. For now though, I love cremini mushrooms, so I wasn¡¯t gonna leave them out of my soup.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just eating potential potion ingredients because they¡¯re tasty?¡± Kyla rolled her eyes. ¡°The identifier only said that they were ¡®beneficial for Constitution and Vitality¡¯. Do you know how many things we¡¯ve found? We¡¯re out here to catalogue, not collect. So my vote is with George¡¯s plan.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t vote,¡± George sang with a chuckle, ¡°I¡¯m gonna tell the Patriarch you¡¯re dissenters trying to implement democracy. Be happy with your place, comrade.¡± Kyla snorted. ¡°Oh no, I was caught giving an opinion. Straight to the gulag with me.¡± The Cook rubbed his chin in mock thought. ¡°Now there¡¯s an idea. Why don¡¯t we have a gulag? I¡¯ll have to talk with Mitchell when we get back about implementing an even lower class. What would we call them, though?¡± They bantered well into the evening as George cooked, a sense of camaraderie having slowly formed between the trio. Even when the sun went down and a pair of Carnivorous Squirrels accosted their makeshift camp, the battle was swift, and all three of them knew exactly what was going to happen. George pointed at each of the carcasses, cast his new Minor Cooking spell in its Skin variant, and then crossed his arms and looked down his nose at them. Kyla and Ezekiel exchanged a glance, then called out in chorus: ¡°Into the pot!¡± George nodded. ¡°It goes into the pot.¡±
Mitchell, Miriam, Sarah, and John all stood near the river as they looked at the recently repaired building. Inside, the newest member of the town - a Shipwright named Ollie - was setting things up to his liking. However nothing could possibly have stopped the sound of the brand new waterwheel paddling away in the river''s current, and the grinding of the mill wheel intermittently starting and stopping. It had taken a couple of days, but they had eventually expanded to four farms and finally repaired the old mill for which the town was named. The farms were growing a mix of wheat, strawberries (for selling), corn, and lemons. The lemon trees had yet to bear fruit, but they were growing at an astonishing pace. Selling new crops had allowed them to get around the sinking prices of the tomatoes, and over time as they had stopped selling the red fruit the price had risen back to previous levels. With four farms built, the town had unlocked the option to create a Granary, though Dalton had advised against building it now. Later level granaries were actual, proper cold storage rather than just a place off the ground, and they would be cheaper to buy at that level than to upgrade from a first level building. It was around level 5 that the buildings started to receive minor enchantments rather than mundane improvements, which was what he said to wait for. However, he¡¯d upgraded most of the other buildings to their limits. Most of the upgrades so far had just required sufficient lumber. It didn¡¯t even need to be processed, so John went into the forest and chopped down trees with single blows, dragging them back to wherever they planned to upgrade. When there were enough trees piled up next to the building, Mitchell accepted the upgrade prompt he got when he used his Intuit skill on it. It was very, very disconcerting to watch a house gain in craftsmanship. The logs became straighter and smoother, the door sat more straight on its hinges, windows went from shutters to a thin film of something, the thatched roof was replaced by wooden shingles, and the house itself raised a few feet off the ground, revealing a cobbled stone foundation and the implication of a cellar. A quartet of frightened Outer members ran out, saw the majority of the Core group standing in front of their house, and made themselves scarce before Sarah could reassure them. ¡°Yep. From 4 to 6 occupation.¡± Mitchell confirmed. ¡°Let¡¯s get the houses to level 3 to match the clan house.¡± A day of hauling trees had seen them do exactly that, and within a day, their available capacity had grown up to 200 people able to fit inside the walls, 10 to each house. Learning from the first time, John sent Jack to politely request relocation from the occupants of the houses. John had tried in the second one, but it still ended up with residents panicking about not knowing how to treat the Core. Yet another thing to address. As Mitchell awaited the next delivery of trees, he explored his other upgrade options. The now-named Water Mill, Large had begun at level 2, and required quarried stone to progress, so that was out. The wall was already level 3, and wasn¡¯t available to upgrade until the towns own level was increased. The town level was increased when it got enough experience. The town got experience every day based on the buildings inside the town. Then it was balanced against the immigration settings, and the result was added to the total. That wouldn¡¯t start applying until the next upgrade though. Dalton had expressly stated that upgrading the town to the next level, as the reward they had received from the siege, was a suicidal effort. The problems the System sent at a town were directly scaling to level. He recommended that all of the Core Group be at racial level 30 minimum before that upgrade. His precise words were: ¡°Illustrious and wonderful Patriarch, are you out of your bleeding mind?¡± Mitchell had enjoyed the frankness he¡¯d finally gotten out of Dalton, and had taken to trying to get it out of the Advisor on a more permanent basis. The Dungeon Gate received the same treatment. They still had their discount from the siege as well, but Dalton said that until they cleared or decommissioned the Dungeon, they would just be creating an exit for the creatures to escape from. Once level 30, he suggested they build the Gate, then immediately go clear the Dungeon they wanted to link to it. So Mitchell spent his time and effort upgrading what he could. Which was only the farms, but they now completed a stage every 16 hours instead of 24, so they were getting four days worth of food every three days. He¡¯d worried about having enough Farmers, but a few of the unskilled immigrants had taken to creating a night shift of sorts. They were slowly getting better, and would eventually receive their own Farmer class. Mitchell was curious about how they would ever level high enough without a combat class, and was promptly informed that NPC¡¯s had only one class, and that class levelled in direct accordance to the prosperity of the Settlement. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°That doesn¡¯t really make any sense, though.¡± Mitchell had asked Dalton late at night. ¡°How does Aleks have two classes then? He was a Legionnaire first, and now he¡¯s an artist.¡± Dalton shrugged. ¡°Sometimes if there¡¯s someone in the pool that fits your parameters, you end up with a bit more robust of an NPC. I¡¯m quite literally forbidden from giving advice outside of your Tier, so I¡¯ll have to leave it there. Just do a quick check on your immigrants to see who¡¯s an NPC and who isn¡¯t. You¡¯re probably safe to start dividing the experience between immigration and the town again, by the way. Your food issue is mostly solved, and that fishing boat should be done tomorrow, so you need a Fisherman or two to crew it.¡± Mitchell had seen the blatant changing of subject and accepted it. Dalton had been more than useful, and so he wanted to remain at least amiable if not friendly. He did however add it to the list of questions he had immediately after they reached E rank. He had a brief thought doubting if they would even make it there, but it was quickly quelled by the overwhelming part of his mind that said simply: we must. On the morning the exploration trio were due to arrive back, John and a pair of his Legionnaires pulled the newly-constructed south gate open. It was a beautiful, clear morning, the air crisp but not cold to the point of causing frost. Birds sang their songs in nearby trees, and the river¡¯s flow added a burbling undertone to the symphony of the tranquil dawn. Rather than the expected group, however, a quartet of humans dressed in loose cloth and on horseback stood on the path, three visibly armed and armoured while the fourth was dressed in finer robes and appeared to be waving a white-ish flag. The horses stood stock-still, almost unnatural in their lack of movement. ¡°The Khanclave sends their regards!¡± The flag-wielder shouted in a halting accent. A bolt of fire shot out from the end of the flag, burning the scrap cloth and revealing the stick to be a staff. The flames hit the wall with a searing wave of heat and caught despite the dew-soaked wood. The quartet turned and galloped away, their horses eerily silent, as Old Mill Town scrambled to form their first fire brigade in the smoky dawn light.
¡°Jesus Christ on a hockey stick, that¡¯s a lot of guys.¡± ¡°My count¡¯s over 100 mounted alone.¡± Kyla agreed. ¡°Can we please go? We aren¡¯t nearly hidden enough.¡± Ezekiel pleaded. This was supposed to be a trip for him to get a second class. They¡¯d expected to follow the deer trail to something he could feasibly use to start on his desired Pathfinder class, not run across what appeared to be a military encampment complete with cavalry. He didn¡¯t have the stats for anything close to what they were doing right now, and he couldn¡¯t quell the feeling that his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His companions shared a considering glance. ¡°No. We need as much information as we can. If we¡¯d left already, we¡¯d never have seen how many men they had.¡± ¡°And women.¡± George added on to Kyla¡¯s point. ¡°Looks like a feminist version of the Mongols? Seeing a lot of male servants. Yurts. Just watched a guy cop a feel and lose a hand. Pretty savage.¡± He said as if describing the flavour of a dish he¡¯d just made. ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s only women.¡± Kyla countered. ¡°I see some men on horseback down there.¡± The trio had heard the sounds of the large camp long before coming across it. The trees had slowly become less dense until they broke entirely to reveal rolling fields interspersed with small clusters of maple and birch. The river shone between them and a sprawling camp, which was the only reason George hadn¡¯t immediately issued a retreat - from what he could see, the river was too deep and fast at this stretch for horses to make a crossing. Even so, the trio lay low in a patch of tall grass atop a small hill, just peeking out from the slowly waving stalks. ¡°Okay, I get why we didn¡¯t leave before. Why aren¡¯t we leaving now?¡± George paused for a moment while he considered. They¡¯d been here in the grass for almost twenty minutes now, observing the camp. There were somewhere over 50 tents arranged in a circular pattern like a wheel, with groups of riders patrolling the outside and a starburst of dirt paths like spokes allowing travel to the central, larger tent. To one side, a ramshackle wooden structure acted as stables, and on the other, a small collection of tents housed a few craftsmen - the ring of a hammer on an anvil giving away the purpose of the heavier canvas on the larger frames. There were no gates or walls to speak of. ¡°There.¡± Kyla whispered, pointing. ¡°Coming out of the middle tents, on the left. See the guy with the robe?¡± ¡°They all have robes.¡± Ezekiel deadpanned, but George¡¯s eyes had caught on almost instantly. He didn¡¯t look much different, but his robe fell just the little bit further, his headdress tied in a slightly more ornate fashion, but most importantly was the pair of heavily armoured women that followed him. ¡°Leader?¡± He asked, even as he idly fired off an Identify, which was when it all went to hell. First was the completely new notification which George baulked at then quickly dismissed: Your Identify has been countered! You have been Identified! The woman at the alleged leader''s left side pointed with her spear- directly at where they hid - and a quartet of riders streamed through the camp''s paths and broke for their location. Other, scattered riders raced to catch up until it was well over 10 people riding at them, all shouting and waving. Behind them, other people were hastily throwing on armour and mounting nearby horses. The speed at which they had mobilised was ridiculous. ¡°Time to go.¡± George said, clicking his tongue. Nimbus darted out of the grasses and hopped up onto the Ranger¡¯s shoulder. Kyla and Ezekiel scrambled to their feet as well and the trio took off towards the forest, feet pounding against hard dirt and legs pumping and crashing through the grass. The rumbling of hoofbeats was faint behind them and a quiet approaching whistling was the only warning George got. Still something in his mind told him to dodge, to move. He tackled Ezekiel and Kyla to the ground, Nimbus hissing as he was launched off of George¡¯s shoulder. It was almost too late as a cloud of arrows struck down all around them, stifled cries of pain the only response to the saturation attack. With a quick glance, he realised that he¡¯d actually managed to evade all of the projectiles, though Kyla wasn¡¯t nearly as lucky. A black shafted and feathered arrow jutted painfully from her shoulder, and as the Warrior tried to push herself to her feet, she let out a cry of pain and her left arm collapsed. Ezekiel was quick to tug her to her feet. ¡°Get up, get up.¡± Kyla hissed through her teeth and manoeuvred herself to her feet with one arm. George¡¯s mind moved no faster than usual, but somehow everything just seemed so clear. In an instant, he took in the situation. Thirty seconds of flat out sprinting gets them to the trees, 45 if he waited for the other two. 20 seconds until the horses reached the banks of the river. The drawn bows of horseback archers. The treeline ahead, so close but too far to make it without dodging more volleys. The waving grass, surprisingly dry given the downpour a week ago. Kyla¡¯s arm injured - not hindering running speed, hopefully. Ezekiel¡¯s slowly growing panic. His own sense of survival. ¡°Follow my lead exactly.¡± George said coldly, rolling to his feet. ¡°Nimbus, scout ahead, make sure there¡¯s nothing waiting for us in the trees. You two, if I say down, you fall. If I say up, you get up. If I say to turn around and hold the line so I escape, you do it. Understand?¡± ¡°The fuck-¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Kyla said through gritted teeth and a glare at Ezekiel. ¡°What¡¯s the move?¡± George did his absolute best to keep his intuition from showing on his face. ¡°We run like hell and hope that it takes them too long to cross that river.¡± Without waiting for a response, he began running. The rustling of grass behind him signalled that they were following, and he began counting in his head. After about seven seconds, he shouted his first instruction. ¡°About face, full sprint!¡± Ezekiel was the only one to hesitate, and as the Ranger and the Warrior turned to sprint toward their pursuers, they found themselves running underneath a larger cloud of arrows than the first, by almost half. Ezekiel could only thank luck that he was struck as he was, a scarlet gash opening across his cheek as he yelped in terror. ¡°Now, go!¡± George yelled, unslinging his bow and returning fire, though the distance was almost at the maximum of what his bow could manage. He loosed three arrows in quick succession at the closest horse, the first aimed dead on at a high arc and the other two to either side at a lower arc. If he¡¯d judged it right, they should impact one after the other, hopefully anticipating a strafe or dodge. Without waiting to see the results, George turned to follow his companions and gauge how much longer he could stay, finding them halfway to the tree line. Good, he should be able to- His entire plan changed in an instant as he watched the leading rider get hit by his first arrow, the shaft landing heavily into his torso and knocking him free to fall to the ground. He may have overestimated the battle-sense of the average foe. His companions didn¡¯t even move out of the way, trampling the fallen rider in their fevered charge. As they grew closer, George began to make out the faint, undulating echoes and screams of battle cries, and he watched as the riders whipped their horses into a frenzy. The first to reach the river stopped and began firing arrows, and while they were still airborne George had returned fire. The second didn¡¯t even hesitate, her horse riding over the churning waters of the river like a particularly bumpy trail before emerging into the grass on the other side and continuing her pursuit. The fourth, seventh, eighth, and ninth riders followed, and with his position not nearly as safe as it once was, George was forced to flee. He cursed. Horses weren¡¯t supposed to be able to walk on fucking water! As he ran back towards the forest, dodging the sporadic but more frequent arrow volleys, George began to come up with a new plan. It was hardly the ideal way forward, but it was more likely than all of them getting out unscathed. As he¡¯d been doing the past couple of days, he followed Ezekiel¡¯s path as much as possible, only diverging when the arrow-fire made it impossible to continue on his line without injury. The horses thundering hooves just became audible when he finally breached the trees and immediately bounded up a nearby trunk to come face to shocked face with Ezekiel. He wasted no time. ¡°I never said to stop, Z! Keep going, and mark the path back to Old Mill Town. Get Kyla back, tell the Core.¡± Ezekiel spoke up before he could think, the words surprising even himself. ¡°What about you? We aren¡¯t going to leave you behind.¡± George scoffed, even though Ezekiel could see through the mask. He wasn¡¯t nearly so good with his poker face as some of the others. George was terrified, and he could see the conflict flick across his face. ¡°Can¡¯t. We wouldn¡¯t make it. We¡¯ll hang back, harass them, set traps, make sure they can¡¯t catch up to you, but that will only work if you go. Now.¡± Then George pushed him out of the tree. The fall was only 12 or so feet, which would be nothing to him, but without Ezekiel having a secondary class, his overall stats were much lower and his breath was knocked out of him. ¡°Kyla, I know you¡¯re here! Get him out of here!¡± She stepped out from behind a tree down on the forest floor. ¡°We¡¯ll be back with help.¡± George growled. That would defeat the entire purpose! ¡°No! Go, prepare! We¡¯ll make our own way back. Trust me.¡± Kyla grabbed Ezekiel''s hand with her good arm and hauled him to his feet. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that, George. Come back safe.¡± George¡¯s throat caught, his Instinct more than high enough to catch the undertones. She genuinely cared and wanted him to make it back safe - maybe he had overlooked something? He swallowed and nodded down at her. ¡°You may not know this, but there isn¡¯t a single person that could keep up with me in the branchways. Now please, go.¡± She looked once more at the man with the tangled beard and matted, sweaty hair. She looked further up in the tree, seeing twin green orbs with narrowed slits peeking out of the shadow of a shadow of a bough. She looked once more through the trunks at the approaching cavalry, half now unstringing bows and drawing swords - proper, steel swords with wicked curves. She looked, and she saw, and she left in silence. They vanished into the trees within ten seconds, and George finally stopped trying to keep his face calm. He turned to watch the approaching riders, even as the beginnings of a float-bridge were being constructed back at the camp. 7 riders, each with bow and sword, each atop a large, muscular warhorse. Tens more milled around the start of the bridge, and running figures in the camp gathered up to join the pursuit party. ¡°Alright buddy. Let¡¯s make them pay for every inch.¡± Nimbus growled his approval, and George drew his bow. 26. Escape Old Mill Town, Level 3F Settlement Core: 6/6 Inner Members: 4/20 Outer Members: 40/50 Aspirants: 39/500 Total Population: 89/576 Settlement Upgrade Available Current Buildings: Current Treasury: 1E, 256F Current Allies: None Current Enemies: The Khanclave (undeclared)
The Old Mill Town was so much more than a simple settlement; it formed a symbol of resistance, a place Mitchell had fought to make a sanctuary inside a chaotic world. From the docks to the Clan House, each building carried with it a memory and countless hours of labour. If anything, it wasn''t just terrifying to watch it all go up in smoke; it was a reminder of how delicate the balance was that they fought so hard to keep safe. Flames licked the top of the walls, a new, more primal invader compared to those who last dared to attempt to destroy what was built. This invader could not be stabbed, shot, or shocked with lightning. It could not be manoeuvred into position, nor demoralised. This intruder would spread and consume and would not stop for any man. However, as he frantically ran through his thoughts, Mitchell was again reminded that mankind was not a collection of upright fleshy primates, but more than that. They were tool-using, organised, community-centred creatures. They were smart, and resourceful, and had the determination and knowledge of higher concepts required to not flee, but stand strong before their enemies, even when that enemy was Mother Nature herself, brought and unleashed by some unknown Khanclave. Mitchell thought as quickly as he could. To prevent the fire from spreading north would just need a firebreak, which was already present in the gap between wall and buildings. They could churn the dirt to prevent the grass from catching though. They needed to split the rest of the wall off to prevent the entire thing from catching, which would be even more difficult than usual given the enchantments Miriam had done. ¡°John! Gather the Aspirants outside the wall and get to making us some buckets! Sarah, keep ready at the Clan House in case we have injuries, and Miriam, stick with her and get us some sort of water spell! Geor-¡± ¡°I can¡¯t develop a spell in five second-¡± Miriam protested, even as John also disagreed with him. ¡°This could be a flush out, I¡¯ll bring them to the Dock-¡± Mitchell growled in frustration. He¡¯d been about to ask George to range and see if there were any more of the riders in the surrounding woods, before remembering that the Ranger wasn¡¯t here. ¡°Miri, I know you can. You take so long because you¡¯re cautious, but I will spend every single coin I have on MP potions if I have to, so get to it. John, make sure you bring over some lumber.¡± John took off, shouting quick commands to Jack and heading to the Docks. Miriam glared at him, but Mitchell was still firing off directions. ¡°Inner and Outer Members! Protect your home!¡± The flames continued to lick at the top of the wall and spread to either side. By this point the gate was fully engulfed and at least ten feet to either side was catching in the unnaturally hot flames. ¡°Get shovels, buckets, axes - We can not allow the wall to fall!¡± ¡°Patriarch!¡± Mitchell whirled about to see Dalton, face red and breathing heavily running as fast as he could. ¡°Advisor.¡± Mitchell said calmly, despite the panic slowly growing in his head. With no wall, any coyote could get in and likely get into the houses. The riders could come back and torch the clan house, or the mill, or the- He shouted out again. ¡°Legion! I need a runner!¡± There was a beading of sweat upon Mitchell''s forehead, his heart racing, as he looked upon the now-growth of fire. Each second counted; each could be felt slipping by, precious moments lost if they did not mobilise now. Each of the panicked faces reflected his own fears outwards. But beneath the fear, Mitchell saw something else: determination¡ªpeople he once considered strangers standing to fight for this place. A uniformed Legionnaire pushed her way through the crowd - which was not milling about and panicking, Mitchell noted with pride, but were organising into actual firefighters and supporting groups. ¡°Sir!¡± ¡°Get to your Centurion and tell him we need at least one sentry looking over the farms. Preferably the whole tent. Go!¡± Mitchell rattled off before turning to Dalton. ¡°Please tell me there¡¯s some System method we can use to put this out.¡± Dalton shook his head, catching his breath. ¡°No, not that, just-¡± ¡°Then tell me after!¡± Mitchell cut him off with frustration and ran down to the pier, skidding to a halt when he saw the almost miraculous sight of John straining with effort, though the reason was clear. Mumbling in amazement, one by one, people paused to watch in awe as John came forward, his muscles straining under the impossible weight of the boat filled with water. Distorted with effort, every step was a Herculean challenge as he fought against both gravity and fatigue. The people around him held their breath, and some even reached out, as if their will could help lift the burden. A picture of desperation, of hope; one man pushing the limits to protect their fragile haven. On each side he had one of his Legionnaires keeping the vessel steady, but from the way his legs trembled and his halting steps, he was struggling. Considering that weight should have been impossible to lift, let alone keep the stress from snapping the boat in half- Mitchell buried his thoughts and ran underneath the boat, taking as much weight as he dared onto his own shoulders, and the two pushed past astonished glances and scrambling shovellers to bring the load of water to the blaze. Clan Members with axes chopped away at the un-burnt sections of wall, trying to stop the spread. With a splitting crackle, the gate fell from its hinges, and a cry of pain echoed through the clear dawn air. A trio of men dashed forwards, dragging a woman out of the heat, each of their skin raw with burns from being too close to the blaze. ¡°Mitchell!¡± Dalton all but screamed. ¡°You need to declare war on the Khanclave, now!¡± ¡°Why?!¡± He screamed back, effort making his voice tight. It was getting difficult to hear anything over the crackling of flame and the blood rushing in his ears, but he didn¡¯t dare let go of the boat, even as it worked together with gravity to crush both him and John. ¡°Because your team is still out there, and when you¡¯re at war, you can see enemy units nearby. Just do it!¡± ¡°How?!¡± ¡°Just declare it!¡± ¡°I declare war on the Khanclave!¡± Are you sure you would like to declare war on a higher levelled faction? ¡°Y-Yes!¡± Mitchell shouted, and the notification was replaced. War declared! All enemy units within your faction''s perceptive range will be Spotted and their locations known to all other faction members within 15m (5m x Settlement Level). Upgrade your Clan House for further benefits. With the declaration made, an oppressive silence made its presence known for a moment, relieved only by the crackling of flames and shouts of effort. Mitchell felt the weight of his words settle upon his shoulders: war meant they weren''t just fighting a fire but also an enemy set on their destruction. The battle for survival had increased in intensity, and this was now personal with deeper consequences. Not merely leading people against flames, he was defending their life, their future, against a hostile world that wished them dead. With that, Mitchell lowered his head and got to work, sweat and curses falling equally silently as they fought to contain the blaze. It was hellish. Heat rolled off the wall in waves, singing the hairs of any who approached too closely, though that didn¡¯t stop a single soul. Occasionally there was a crack like a gunshot as a reinforced log split, and splinters flew, and the only thing that happened was a collective flinch, a half-crouch, then everyone straightened and got right back to it. Runners returned from the farms with hoes and shovels which were distributed quickly based on Strength. They made it to the wall with the boat, and John directed them to the east of the blaze, some ten feet away from the edges of the fire. Mitchell didn¡¯t know why, but he followed the man¡¯s lead. He distantly remembered that John had been a volunteer firefighter as well during the Before. The small group at the docks were wading through the river, looking for anything that could help. A woman ran over with a woven basket from her home, and that apparently triggered something, as tens of Clan Members - from the Inner to the Aspirant - ran to their dwellings and emerged with a hodgepodge collection of vessels. From pots and pans, to cloth and cups and even Jack had collected a wooden chest from his own house and soon they were all filled with water, being passed back and forth along a fire-line and being thrown atop the blaze. It wasn¡¯t enough to put it out, but it helped slow things down and reduce the heat of the main blaze. Miriam watched from the porch of the clan house, nearing furious. ¡°Who does he think he is? Miri, make a spell for this. Miri, enchant the whole town. Miri-¡± ¡°Miri, I understand you¡¯re having issues, but either hit yourself with a Calm spell or channel it. Our home is burning. We had enough trouble getting here with just five - do you think we could protect eighty refugees?¡± Sarah stressed. Miri swore, her mind beginning to jumble up and catastrophize. Sarah was right, the wall would burn down then the coyotes could come right back and pick them off during the night. Then they would lose people, people she¡¯d grown to like and respect, people that she had reluctantly sworn to protect, and look out for the best interests of. It would be her fault too, because rather than actually come up with useful, castable spells, she¡¯d just spent her time theorizing on the bigger, better spells she would one day be able to cast, the inefficient, hundred-array monstrosities that she¡¯d likely never be able to cast now because it was all going to burn down and they would scream Miriam how could you and- Miriam¡¯s hands clenched into fists, her mind racing with half-formed spells and theories that had never seemed so inadequate. Every shout from Mitchell was another reminder that she¡¯d stayed too long in her theoretical bubble, and she cursed herself for not focusing on simpler, more practical spells. Her chest tightened, and a small, gnawing voice of doubt crept in, whispering that she wasn¡¯t ready for this, that she was just pretending to be smart and capable. But just as that voice began to rise, a sharp sting snapped her back. Stars flashed across her vision and her hearing rang for a moment before she blinked herself back into coherence. ¡°-breath in, breath out, Miriam, stay with me, stay here with us.¡± A hand snapped its fingers beside her ear and she flinched away from the sound. ¡°Hey, you up? You good?¡± Miriam nodded shakily, finally taking the Healer¡¯s advice and casting Calm on herself. Most mental spells were simple to cast on yourself, though her tome had recommended against overdoing it as it could affect your brain long-term. ¡°Yea, I¡¯m good. You like slapping people, eh?¡± Sarah shrugged. ¡°It works. Now, from what I get, you¡¯ve been working on aspects, right? Like adding fire to your darts and stuff?¡± Miriam nodded, grateful that Sarah was taking the lead in staying productive. She had been researching exactly that and believed she¡¯d figured it out, but in her studies she¡¯d had a stroke of inspiration with her self-referential arrays and had been trying to come up with a dart that would read the target and determine the most useful aspect to colour the dart with, all automatically. In hindsight, it was a silly spell, a useless, wasteful creation. ¡°Yes, and I think I have it, but I have no idea what the aspect-array for water is, so that won¡¯t help.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Sarah nodded. ¡°But you know fire, right? And you can kind of¡­ move things between enchantments and spells?¡± Miriam¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Shit, Sarah, you¡¯re a genius!¡± She knelt down in the dirt and began drawing with her finger. ¡°I¡¯ve already isolated the runes within the Durability enchantment into function, though which rune does which function is still something I¡¯m figuring out. Should I replace a rune or change it to deal with fire or add a new one, is the real question? It¡¯s not like my main class, I¡¯m still supposed to be finding the diagrams and learning them that way, so I¡¯m not sure on the rules too much.¡± The healer raised her staff. ¡°I¡¯m here to heal. Brute force it if you have to.¡± Miriam looked up hesitantly. ¡°I know you can heal but it will still hurt if I end up burning myself.¡± A chill ran down her spine as she imagined the heat, the burn of raw, unrefined magic surging through her. It wasn¡¯t fear of failure that gnawed at her ¨C it was fear of the unknown, of what she might unlock or unleash if she pushed herself too far. But the sight of flames in the distance reminded her that failure here wasn¡¯t an option. Swallowing hard, she gathered herself, knowing she¡¯d have to harness her own fire to save everyone else. ¡°More or less than it will hurt to be eaten by coyotes?¡± Sarah retorted. Miriam knew it wasn¡¯t about the coyotes. It was about everything that could, and would happen if they lost the settlement. She swallowed once, allowing her fear to reign for a split second, then shoved it into the back of her head where the Calm spell held it even as it kicked and thrashed and screamed to be heard, to be indulged. She could process it- no, defeat it- later. Instead, she returned her head to the dirt and continued scratching esoteric shapes and lines, however this time her voice was ice and her expression steel. ¡°Get me some wooden plates.¡± Sarah smiled, glad she¡¯d been able to help. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±
George didn¡¯t know who these people were Before. He didn¡¯t know who did and did not have the counter-identify that had revealed them. He didn¡¯t even know what language they spoke. All he knew was that they¡¯d completely skipped any sort of diplomatic step and had gone right to shooting at them with arrows, and therefore as Mitchell would say: they were not compatible with the Old Mill Town way of life. He¡¯d harried and ambushed the tracking party, successfully slowing them though it was hard to tell if that was more due to him or due to the other two hiding their tracks so successfully. It was a difficult time but he had quickly gotten over his reluctance and had started shooting at the horses. Every bit of media he¡¯d ever consumed had explicitly painted the act of targeting mounts as cruel. A Knight''s tourney, cowboy flicks, fantasy - even in Tolkien¡¯s movies, the horses had been targeted, but that was to make the enemy seem more evil and irredeemable. What he didn¡¯t know - that someone like Mitchell did, vaguely, due to his history enthusiasm - was that this was a modern take that came about during the rising of the western film, with the famous heroes and their trusty sidekicks. In history, it was very much a valid tactic to deal with the horses first. Horse armour was invented for a reason. It just wasn¡¯t as popular of a method, as letting your enemy keep their thousands of horses would also stress their supply lines - all those animals needed a lot of food. George didn¡¯t know this. George didn¡¯t even think in those terms. George just sighted down his arrow, lined it up with one of the -noble, majestic, free- creatures, shoved down his self-disdain, and let loose. Something about it felt wrong, but with every bit of self-disgust that came up, he squashed it down. Two of the beasts had fallen, and the party of ten was still after Kyla and Ezekiel though they had to share mounts. If he could take out four more, it should slow the hunters enough that he could break off and catch up. Nimbus bounded silently through a higher branchway, keeping easy pace with the Ranger as they moved ahead to a knot of brambles that should slow the pursuers long enough to perform another ambush. His opponents weren¡¯t stupid, though. They were dividing up directions to watch from, and after the last ambush had also dedicated two of them to searching the branches. He¡¯d already been spotted twice, but speed and misdirection had allowed him to turn the tables against the one who had chased him and lose her. He¡¯d still taken a glancing blow from an arrow despite his skills and familiarity with the terrain. Now, though, he found a nice spot high in the branches, a bird¡¯s nest above helping to break up his silhouette. Then, a notification: Your faction is at war with the faction known as The Khanclave! Encounters with members of the enemy faction will provide boosted experience gain! Enemies are nearby. George swiftly changed his priorities. Now, the forest felt different¡ªthe trees no longer just shelter but staunch allies, tenebrous beings cloaking him, and every creaking branch a murmur of his imminent strike. His breathing steadied into slow, cold exhalations, sharpening his gaze and concentrating years of survivalist instinct into a calculated will of ice. They had threatened his people, his land, and in that one instant, he was no longer a defender but a hunter. He would make them wish they had never stepped into his domain. The time for harrying and slowing was done. No, those 10 riders picking their way through the forest - his forest - were no longer a true danger. Some switch had flipped in George¡¯s mind, his instinct drawing him to a conclusion when he could not have recalled the reasoning to get there if you had given him 8 days and enough lined paper for an auto-biography. George just knew, deep down, that there was a fact that was true. He was the Master Hunter, and these people who had tried to kill him? Who had tried to kill his new friends? They were prey.
Baatar grumbled to himself even as slender arms wrapped around his waist. The woman who¡¯d let her horse be killed was clinging to him and looking around fearfully. It was unbecoming of a Warrior, and he made note to inform the Khan of her cowardice. As a Horseman, he would never dare allow his mount to come close to death, and if the worst ever happened, his level 20 skill would allow him to absorb injuries from his mount and apply them to himself instead. With his high HP, he would be able to bring his loyal mount back from near-death twice, and with the issued Health Potions in his Saddlebag, could keep it up for quite a while. However, he had done most of his work on the plains. Running down the wolf pack, encircling the Raccan invaders, the small skirmish with Jonesville which had ended in a total victory - all of this had been done in the grassy fields. Not in the thick trees, where he couldn¡¯t get up to full speed and had much more trouble shooting accurately from horseback. So a hint of caution crept in where there was typically only brash confidence. He found his caution warranted, the hunting party having lost two horses since they entered the treelines. Losing a mount was bad, but returning to the camp having failed in their goal would be worse. They had to keep going now, could not cease. A snort from a horse snapped him out of his thoughts, and he held up a hand, calling for a stop. ¡°Tallo, report.¡± Their Mounted Scout stopped still and raised his nose to sniff at the air. ¡°They came through this way, but I also smell fresh blood, 20 degrees sunward.¡± ¡°Ignore it. We ride after the rabbi-¡± A loud crash and the sounds of panicked horses came from behind him, and he urged his horse to turn, but he was panicking and wanted to flee- Baatar lowered himself down and whispered in his mounts ear, soft, soothing sounds, and eventually the beast turned. Baatar cocked his head to the side. There was some sort of¡­ spiky corpse? Carcass? It looked like a smaller version of a Spinebear, though many of the protruding spines weren¡¯t the venomous quills but arrows. The impact had splattered blood all across the nearby riders and their mounts. The Horseman frowned. The forest archer had dropped the creature there on purpose, but to wha- Oh. ¡°Retreat!¡± Bataar called out, but it was too late. Splintering trees. Pounding footsteps that shook the earth. A deep, angry roar, and then a colossal beast was upon them, biting and rending and shredding.
Even high up in the tree as he was, George froze in fear, the path forward presented by his instincts grinding to a halt with an overwhelming need to run, hide, get away, be somewhere that wasn¡¯t here. And yet, he watched with morbid fascination as a fully grown Spinebear tore through the riders ranks. He observed with a clear line of sight as the behemoth crashed through a tree, snapped a man in half - literally in half - with a clamping of jaws, and almost without effort impaled the horse the recently deceased man had been riding. In a flurry of blood and splinters and matted black fur, the man and his horse died without even time for a scream. To their credit, the riders rallied quickly, but it was clear their tactics didn¡¯t work too well within the forest. Circling the bear just kept them within range, and the beast was much faster in a straight line than a horse was - whether by virtue of its own speed or the fact that it could just go through whatever was in its way, three more riders and their mounts fell before a man called out in a language he didn¡¯t understand, and the rest of them scattered back the way they came. George finally let himself breath a sigh of relief. It had been a gamble on multiple fronts. First, that he could kill the nearby cub in time. Second, that the mama was still around and close enough to scent the blood. Third, that he could even lift the cub so that he could splatter some of the riders with blood and make them easier for mama to track. And the fourth was that the Spinebear would be strong enough - that last one was well and truly proven. George had just watched 5 men and 5 horses die, having killed two of the horses himself. Now he had a choice: Did he pursue the fleeing riders to the edge of the forest, securing the terrain and causing fear in their hearts? Did he follow Ezekiel and Kyla, regrouping and heading back to Old Mill Town? Or did he test himself, here and now, to see how far he¡¯d come and gain the levels he would need to stand against what had become their first true enemy? It was not a difficult choice, and George unstrung his bow from his back. From up here in the branchways, he would be safe from the claws and jaws and spines and other deadly bits. Nocking an arrow and drawing it back, he took a deep breath, then released. At the sound of the bow twanging and the arrow taking flight, the bear jerked aside, its eye tracking up into the crown of the tree where George stood, amazed, as a 12 foot bear dodged an arrow after it had been shot. The Spinebear roared, the sound so loud that it caused a slight pain in his eardrums, then the bear charged for the base of the tree he was in and bulled right through the trunk, knocking George off balance. ¡°Shit.¡± He cursed as he arrested his fall by jumping to a nearby tree, but his target was smaller and less grown than his usual targets and the branch snapped beneath his weight. The sudden loss of footing sent the Ranger sprawling through the branches and he flailed out, grasping at anything he could. Something -Thank god for you, Nimbus- slammed into his back, pushing off a moment after, and his fingers caught a thick enough branch that he swung instead of slipping, and he tucked in his legs to sway his momentum upwards. His eyes flashed across 4 different destinations until locking onto one, and he finished the improvised swing by planting a foot on the trunk and pushing off, transferring the rest of his horizontal motion into vertical. His Instincts screamed at him so he again followed what his intuition said was the right course - rather than grabbing onto the branch, he kicked off the trunk again, a split second before a bone-white spine impaled the tree, cracking the top half off which began to slowly topple. That spine likely could have punched through steel, George thought to himself. ¡°Shit.¡± George cursed again. The Spinebear below took a deep breath, and a volley of three spines shot out, tearing towards where George hung in the air between jumps. There was no way he could- the skill! The Ranger activated his dodge skill, and his body twisted midair, almost flipping entirely upside down as it managed to weave in between two of the spines and take only a glazing slash from the third. Warning! You have been poisoned! George willed the notification away as he bounded higher and higher into the branchways, a growing sense of nausea in his gut. This was not a fight he could take and win, not without severe danger. He wasn¡¯t expecting the bear to be so¡­ he wouldn¡¯t say smart, but it had instincts like his own, and that made it a much more dangerous quarry. This beast was not prey, it was a predator. Which made George the prey, so with a quick series of leaps and trunk-taps he bounded back towards the plains, the bear hot on his heels. He would need to lose it before he could head back to the others.
Six hours. It had taken them six hours to quell the blaze that had been started in seconds. At first, it had seemed like their efforts at funnelling water from the river had been enough. People worked until they collapsed, were dragged back, and Sarah was dropping Adrenal Response on any volunteers who wanted to get back to the fight. The ground had been soaked, and the fire refused to move further into the town, largely due to their efforts. The boat had made 12 trips before the men were too tired to haul it, and then the Legionnaire¡¯s had banded together in an inspiring display to move it thrice on their own. By then, the wall between the south gate and the river bank was lost, and all efforts were spent attempting to slow the easterly spread. But the fire was too hot, and wet wood only caught slower, it was not immune to fire. Log by log, they had fought through exhaustion and sweat and fear and heat, but they had fought. One by one, the Aspirants fell back, away from the dangerous flames, the heat too much to bear. The Outer members were next, though they pushed far past their own limits - a woman had lost all of her hair, dunked her head in a bucket, then immediately turned and tossed the still steaming bucket on the fire and sprinted off to refill it on her own. The turning point had come just after noon, when a tired, burned, sweating, but triumphantly smiling Miriam had stormed out of the Clan House with a knife and carved a symbol into the eastern gate, pressing her hand atop it once complete and firing a firebolt into it. Mitchell watched in amazement, his legs shaking - he was unable to see it, but he was running on his last 3 stamina points - as she revealed not just a new spell but a new enchantment, filling his heart with pride. See? His mind almost seemed to tell itself. You might be stupid, but she¡¯s god damn Einstein. He was proud of her, and proud of himself for trusting her, and proud of Sarah for helping her. She made her way towards the fire, etching the symbol into each log, firing the same Fire Dart into each and nodding in satisfaction before moving on once again. There was a brief panic as she stepped past the line, into the space where the heat would begin to dry your lungs and burn you from a distance, but her gait only faltered for the briefest of split-seconds and she continued, head held high and robe quickly beginning to steam. She was sweating, and the heat was evaporating that sweat, and Mitchell stumbled forwards on wobbling legs, horror in his gaze, when a gentle tap on his shoulder spread a feeling of numbness and relaxation through his body and he all but collapsed onto his knees. Even so, he pushed himself shakily to his feet and made to move forward, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. ¡°She did it.¡± Sarah had told him with an angry glare. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have had to, but she figured out the Fire Dart, and she figured out Fire Durability, and then she figured out Fire Resistance. That¡¯s two spells and an enchantment in 5 hours. Is that enough for you?¡± Mitchell had just turned and brushed Sarah¡¯s hand off his shoulder, his hand getting singed as the metal was still radiating heat. ¡°Yes. She still needs help.¡± He took a step, before realising something important needed to be said. ¡°I believe in her completely, or I never would have asked. Just like you. John. George.¡± The glare turned absolutely furious for a split second before softening and voicing something she¡¯d just realised herself. ¡°You too, Mitch. Let¡¯s put this thing out. Just promise you won¡¯t run in and try to punch the fire.¡± He let out a tired laugh. ¡°I would if I thought it would work.¡± Sarah sighed. She supposed that would be the best she got for now. 27. Mobilise ¡°John, if you would.¡± The Centurion stood, eyes hard as he gazed around the dim light of the longhouse''s main hall. ¡°Aye. We have begun repairs on the wall - we should be done by sunset tonight. Repairing will be much easier than creating in the first place, as we just need to drop trees next to the wall and click a repair icon. Starting tomorrow, I¡¯d like to request a full load of unskilled Aspirants. If we¡¯re going to war, we can¡¯t have an army of eight people. Not only is it unfair, it¡¯s pretty much signing up to lose. From what we saw, the enemy has horses and fire magic - we should dig drop-traps in the approaches to the town, and begin working on spears and stakes. Further, I¡¯d like to see if we can get ourselves a source of stone when the exploration team returns - a stone wall will laugh off those firebolts.¡± ¡°No need.¡± Miriam replied. ¡°Our walls now have flame durability. It¡¯ll be harder for them to catch, and they¡¯ll burn slower. I¡¯m working on a blanket resistance enchantment right now, then I¡¯ll expand to other aspects - earth, shock, acid, the works.¡± John let out a low whistle. ¡°I was wondering how you stopped the fire. Alright, well then I¡¯d like to spend that time creating a watch tower large enough to see over the crowns of the trees. If we can clear out the branches and make sure we build the path, it would only make sense for them to follow it here, right where we can see them.¡± ¡°Funnel them where we want them. Good plans all around, though we don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll take the paths. If they¡¯re anything like their theme, it¡¯ll be harassment campaigns to draw us out of position before any sort of battle. Miriam, do you need anything? Any projects we should know about?¡± ¡°The regen spell is on hold as I work on the resistance enchantments, and I believe I can cast my Totem spell with a fire aspect, though I don¡¯t see my Lightning Chain being able to do the same. Too different in array structure. Other than that, I worked out my mental diagnosis spell, so if anyone needs it, Sarah and I should be able to help with the more mental side of things when it comes to injuries.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Good work. Sarah? Any progress to report?¡± ¡°Healer hit 18 during the fire. Animal Handler hasn¡¯t budged though - seems I can only get so much for caring for the mule.¡± Mitchell hummed for a moment. ¡°Take it over to the water and make it drink?¡± ¡°What? It has no problem- oh. Did you just use an analogy literally?¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Old adages say you can¡¯t make a horse drink. I think that you could.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Other than that, I¡¯m going to train a few of the Outer¡¯s in first aid. Mundane first aid - I can¡¯t be the only person, and some quasi-paramedics would be quite useful.¡± ¡°Let me know when you start that and I¡¯ll send some Tiros over to learn. That¡¯s definitely something I want my Legion capable of.¡± John added. Mitchell finished adjusting the immigration settings, baulking at the number when he was done. ¡°You should have thirty-five unskilled recruits at the gate in the morning.¡± There was a beat of silence while John processed this. ¡°Well, Dalton? You¡¯ve been quiet thus far - care to share any thoughts?¡± The slightly plump man started. ¡°Hm? Oh, yes, very good.¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°Dalton.¡± Sarah said sweetly. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to be here, don¡¯t be here. You get it?¡± Dalton swallowed loudly. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here. Just¡­ Well when I volunteered to help a settlement through the Tutorial, I literally ran the odds of me getting into danger. They were low - lower than your planet''s scientists use as a margin for error, if you¡¯re familiar.¡± ¡°I think I read somewhere that if they can prove something happens 95% of the time, it¡¯s publishable?¡± Mitchell questioned. ¡°Some fields do 90-¡± ¡°It should be 100-¡± Sarah and Miriam looked at each other, then Sarah waved her concession. Miriam cleared her throat. ¡°95% confidence.¡± ¡°Well that is about in line with what my own research showed.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Alright. So of all the tutorials going on right now-¡± Dalton cringed slightly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say now, particularly?¡± Miriam leaned forward. ¡°Actually I had a few questions about that. What is the Tutorial? I obviously know it¡¯s intended to get us up to speed before some sort of greater event, which I have also kind of figured out is just a¡­ well, a world with the System on it. But what does that actually mean?¡± The Advisor sighed. ¡°I can share a few things but a lot of it has to wait for E-grade. F-grade, in the wider world, is considered infancy. It¡¯s where you learn how the world works, where your parents or babysitters will level you up so you can hit E and start actually existing as a person in the eyes of most governments. For new worlds who don¡¯t have those parents- why do you all look so sad all of a sudden?¡± Mitchell glanced around and found that, yes, everyone seemed very morose. He spared a brief thought for his own family, resolved to find them after the tutorial, then got back to work. ¡°Probably just because we got thrown to the wolves, literally. Keep going, though - what actually is a tutorial? We know why, now tell us where, when and how.¡± Dalton nodded slowly. ¡°A lot of what I can say will seem like I¡¯m leaving things out, and that¡¯s because I am - I¡¯ll get pulled right out of the Tutorial if I cross the line, and no, I can¡¯t tell you what the line is. It makes my job quite difficult, but here goes: Tutorials are a method of power-levelling a population up to E-Grade and culling those who are unable to make it that far. The method with which this is done varies - some Tutorials stretch their internal time to seem like it¡¯s been years, others have brutal arena fights where only a few survive, but those that do emerge powerfully. There are crafting Tutorials, diplomacy based ones, and even Settlement management ones. If I were to guess, yours appears to be a hybrid between the Settlement and Arena type tutorials.¡± Mitchell nodded, his face stone as he internalised the implications. ¡°Why?¡± Dalton blinked. ¡°Why? Hmm.. yes, that¡¯s something I can tell you. During the earliest days of the System, entire worlds were enslaved simply because they had nobody to protect them from the established powers. 10,000 F ranks wouldn¡¯t even be able to make a scratch on a High C or Low B rank - however when classes hit E rank, some end up with skills and abilities that allow people to punch outside their weight class, to use an Earth analogy. The System was reworked to accommodate that fact, so that new planets wouldn¡¯t immediately become colonies for the big boys out there. As for how¡­ well in layman''s terms, a long, long - and I mean long, think in terms of millenia - a big group of fish people got in a fight with a big group of bird people. The bird people were winning, but the fish people had developed a ritual and performed it. The fish people ended up going extinct, but when the birds found another world, they found that despite the comparatively ancient level of technology, the natives of the world had power and ability beyond what their earlier scans had shown. They¡¯d been Systemized, and fought back, taking out the fish people. Now neither are around, but the System they made was designed to run perpetually, and nobody knows how to turn it off, so to speak, so we¡¯ve dealt with it. I think that¡¯s it.¡± There was a beat of silence before Sarah spoke. ¡°So some old aliens got their shit wrecked by some other old aliens, then decided to give superpowers to a third set of old aliens, and now we¡¯re stuck in the woods making our own town to get us to a high enough level that we don¡¯t get our own shit wrecked. That sound about right?¡± Dalton nodded. ¡°A gross oversimplification of multiple genocides, but yes.¡± ¡°So if we¡¯re a settlement arena, does that mean the last settlement standing wins?¡± John asked, his hand holding Sarah¡¯s tightly. ¡°We either take everyone else out, or lie down and die?¡± Dalton shrunk back. ¡°Well, yes, but-¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Then that¡¯s what we have to do, isn¡¯t it? Have Old Mill Town be the last one left. Dalton, if this were an Arena type Tutorial, what happens to allies? Is it truly one person that¡¯s allowed to live?¡± ¡°Well, no, usually it¡¯s either the two remaining or a small group. But-¡± Mitchell held up a hand. ¡°And these groups, do they need to be formed beforehand, like we did? Or if, say George, Kyla, and Ezekiel linked up and got the win, would they be taken out of the tutorial together?¡± ¡°No, the time of alliance doesn¡¯t matter, but-¡± Mitchell gave a cold smile. ¡°Then we just need to convince all 2000 people left in this tutorial that it¡¯s better to join us than to fight. I don¡¯t plan to go killing everyone else off, though. Not only because my class is restricting me, but because we need every person we can get when we get yanked out.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know anything for certain!¡± Dalton all but shouted. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to tell you, hybrid Tutorials almost never show up and when they do, they¡¯re always unique!¡± ¡°We can only work with what we know and prepare for the rest.¡± John interjected. ¡°Questioning the end conditions won¡¯t help us, not as much as knowing that we may have some Superman-adjacent bird person from another world show up and murder us all. Our only goal at this point is to get stronger, because if we believe Dalton, we¡¯ll eventually get to that point ourselves.¡± ¡°Get stronger, and keep as many humans alive as possible.¡± Mitchell added. Sarah didn¡¯t say what she was thinking: What had happened to Mitchell¡¯s almost evilly pragmatic views on charity?
George limped down the marked forest trail, his leg still slowly oozing blood the colour of the darkening crimson sky. The Spinebear¡¯s poison didn¡¯t do any damage of its own. Instead, it halted all natural and unnatural healing, bringing George back to the uncomfortable situation of having a body that didn¡¯t bounce back from mortal combat nearly as quickly as he¡¯d liked. Rather than focus on the throbbing in his muscles or the scratching of his pants against the wound, he focussed on the markings. Each could be seen from the last, which was what Ezekiel had planned from the start. He would limp his way to a tree with a series of scratches on it, vaguely resembling a diamond with some sort of¡­. Well, it looked like a square. From that point, he would sweep his gaze around the forest, and spot the next marking. Trees, rocks, stumps - anything was eligible to be marked, and George noted as he passed another set of brambles to his left and a sunken, marsh-like area of the forest to the right that Ezekiel had done an excellent job choosing a trail. With each step, he thought of how lucky he was, and with each bob of Nimbus¡¯ weight on his shoulder, he realised that they had to be more careful in the future - things could have turned horrific in an instant.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The Spinebear had been relentless, so he¡¯d been forced to lead it back to the river¡¯s edge and as luck would have it, the beast had spotted a roaming patrol of riders, giving him a chance to escape. The journey since had been long and painful, but he knew he had at least another day of agonising marching before him until he reached Old Mill Town. He was looking for somewhere to make camp. Climbing a tree was out at this point, and he wouldn¡¯t dare just make camp in a clearing when it was uncertain whether he was being pursued. With time, George came upon an opening in the ground, a crevice that plunged into a rock before levelling out and heading into the hillside. With a sigh of relief, he made his way towards the refuge, only to pause as Nimbus began to hiss from his shoulder. He froze, then slowly and silently began to unstrap his bow from his back. ¡°Keep it where it is, hunter.¡± A feminine voice seemed to emerge from the forest around him, though he was unsure of its true location. He froze regardless, peering around to see if he could locate the ambusher in the shadows. ¡°Alright, alright. That¡¯s fine.¡± George mumbled. ¡°Strange lady, strange forest.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need to be rude, strange hunter. Why have you come to my grove? It is new and yet to blossom, but by seeds and stars it is mine - and you very nearly trespassed.¡± George raised an eyebrow, then with a second thought took a step back from the crevice. ¡°Uh¡­¡± A light lilting laughter seemed to shake from the branchways. ¡°You did not even recognize it as a grove, did you hunter?¡± George¡¯s face flushed. ¡°I¡¯m not a hunter, I¡¯m a Ranger.¡± The voice laughed again, the faintest hint of tree leaves brushing together layered in the timbre. ¡°Yes, I can see that, o mighty Ranger. However, I speak not of what you are called, but of what you are. You came in here, gaze lit by the setting sun and eyes still searching. You hunt something, and thus you are a hunter. Do you disagree?¡± George let his mouth fall open. ¡°I¡­ well I guess so, yea. I¡¯m a bit too tired to debate names and such, but I think that context plays a part.¡± His face burned. ¡°Like, if I was actually hunting for food, I¡¯d say you¡¯re completely right, but I¡¯m out here helping map this forest we¡¯ve never travelled before, so that means I¡¯m ranging right now, I think?¡± A delighted hum shook the branches of a nearby red maple tree, and George felt relief at finally having a direction to speak in. When the voice came again, it was from that tree, its trunk old and gnarled, the branches spread wide above him. ¡°Yes, Ranger, I would suppose you are. I would like to make a deal with you, Ranger-who-hunts.¡± George was too tired to object, but he did roll his eyes and sigh. ¡°Can it wait for the morning, fancy talking tree?¡± ¡°It can.¡± The voice was amused. ¡°However I was going to offer you safe harbour this eve. However - and how strange that I should use that word so soon after the last! Are not words wonderful and strange? - I find your compliment of my home to be¡­ refreshing. I will host you this evening and in exchange, you will stay and speak with me tomorrow morning until the sun brings my shade to its smallest and most potent point. Do we have an accord?¡± George blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Now that he¡¯d stopped walking, the day''s events were all catching up to him quickly. ¡°What¡­. You mean noon? Sure, I can stay until after lunch.¡± The voice let out a short cheer. ¡°Wonderful, truly splendorous! ¡®Tis my first accord, Master Ranger. Mark well the day you first spoke with the spirits of the forest, as too will I mark this in my very wood. Find comfort and solace in my branches, Master Ranger, and may the conversation come morn be as binding as I expect.¡± A brief flash of unease spread through George¡¯s mind at the way she said that, but then he was falling and Nimbus was howling and scratching and his eyes felt so heavy and then he was asleep. Yet unlike the past weeks, the past months, the past years, his mind was silent, and his dreams passed him by with a faint sense of peace, hope, and contentment.
¡°I still don¡¯t think this is a good idea.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± Mitchell admitted. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make it impossible.¡± Sarah scoffed. The two of them were standing atop one of the platforms on the wall - she made a note to ask John to make proper battlements, but he was easily the busiest out of all of them, save for maybe Miriam, who had been spending more and more time studying her magic alone. Down below, thirty new recruits were given basic armour and weapons bought from the system store, and were rapidly being instructed on the basic formations needed to function as a group. If all of them joined the Legion, John would have 5 squads to work with - Jack¡¯s squad, then four new squads. A half Century. She highly doubted anyone else could raise more soldiers than that in such a short time, but he had pushed for three more days of new recruits, enough to fill an entire Century half again over what he needed. Right now, they were drilling in the morning light, standing in scattered lines, practising with sticks and boards as either Jack or John shouted out commands. With the lack of shields on the part of their enemies, John had forgone the pilum and replaced them with javelins which were much easier and cheaper to create. The squads practised moving in small formations, synchronising steps and throws. The results were still messy. They were good within their own units of 8 - 9 with the Optios -, though when John tried to have two squads work in concert as a double-strength squad, they fell apart. ¡°They¡¯re getting thrown into a meat grinder.¡± Sarah protested. ¡°Did wonders for me.¡± Mitchell countered. ¡°We need strength right now Sarah. What¡¯s worse, endangering those who quite literally volunteered for it? Or endangering those who trusted us to protect them?¡± Sarah growled. ¡°But you quite literally set things up to make these people come here. It just feels¡­ wrong. Like you set out the bait of an advancement in status to trick people into your army.¡± Mitchell held up a hand. ¡°I definitely understand that. Like if I were to offer a kid free candy for getting in my van, except the candy is safety and security for themselves and their family in exchange for committing violence on our behalf.¡± Sarah bit back a chuckle. ¡°Really? That¡¯s the analogy you went with?¡± Mitchell looked away. ¡°I do feel guilt, Sarah. I do. But I can¡¯t act on it. I can¡¯t afford to. Every night when I go to sleep, I think to myself: Will it be tonight? Tomorrow? When will the toll come due for me? When will I push our people too hard, or not be strong enough to face a threat?¡± Sarah was quiet for a moment. ¡°Miriam told me you asked her to stop casting the Calm spell before you sleep. The nightmares are back, aren¡¯t they?¡± Mitchell nodded, brushing over the fact that Miriam had spread something private. He trusted her reasoning, even if he didn¡¯t know it. ¡°Can hardly remember them, but I wake up with my heart pounding and covered in sweat. Did you know I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and the first thing I did was reach for my sword? A sword, Sarah. Not a light, nor for Miri, no I immediately went for the weapon. I scrambled in the dark for a blade.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been-¡± ¡°That¡¯s fucked. But I can¡¯t stop it - I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ve even considered it. For better or worse, I¡¯m stuck in charge. I¡¯m not good at this.¡± Mitchell still looked away, and the sounds of training Legionnaires filled the air while she thought. ¡°I think you¡¯re doing okay.¡± Sarah admitted. ¡°Sure, your first move was making yourself a dictator and installing your friends in literally every position of power available-¡± Mitchell¡¯s head dropped. ¡°-and then you built entirely too many houses rather than making the few we had worth living in-¡± He massaged his temples. Sarah faltered. ¡°Mitch, I was kidding. You¡¯ve made some steps forward and some backwards. For every issue you find, you fix it. I don¡¯t think you did the best at setting us up, but when it comes to actually running things, you¡¯re doing alright. People are fed and safe-¡± Mitchell growled, slamming his fist against the railing. ¡°And I just thrust us into war.¡± Sarah grabbed his shoulder and made to spin him towards her, but it was like moving a boulder. After a brief moment of resistance, Mitchell allowed her to turn him, and she took a step inwards, ¡°Mitchell, if you hadn¡¯t, I would have genuinely thought you were crazy. I mean, I already do, but in an ¡®unfit for leadership¡¯ kind of way. They torched our wall.¡± ¡°Nobody was hurt¡­¡± He excused halfheartedly. ¡°Yes, they were!¡± Sarah hissed through her teeth. ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m at 25 in Healer now? Before you ask, yes that¡¯s two new skills, and yes they¡¯re good, or they will be when the scouting team gets back.¡± ¡°What-¡± ¡°We¡¯re talking about you, not me. People were hurt. A lot of people. I helped to fix them, which is why I¡¯m saying that we cannot allow these people to hurt ours again. If that means war, it means war.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°Even the System wants it, and I can¡¯t exactly go against that. I don¡¯t regret my decision, I regret that it had to be made. For all we know, there are a hundred riders headed this way and they¡¯ll over-run us long before we¡¯re ready.¡± Sarah scoffed. ¡°For all we know, George assassinated their leader already and is on his way back with a hundred prisoners.¡± Mitchell chuckled through his morose mood. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. I don¡¯t think he is though.¡± ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°My own class upgrades. Secondary, that is. Apparently I gained increased experience in a crisis. Level 20 gave me a Clan Map that I haven¡¯t had crafted yet, and 25 gave me a very fitting skill called Cultural Soldiery, which will allow me to cut our rate of immigration but have trained Tiros show up for John to work with. The max I can get up to right now is 10 per day though, so it''s faster and better for experience for him to train up his first century by hand.¡± ¡°Which, again, I need to protest the methodology.¡± Sarah reminded him. Mitchell finally shook off his melancholic attitude and straightened up. ¡°It¡¯s sound. The level of the dungeon is directly related to who enters. So we send the new guys without any higher levels to bump the level up, and they just need to fight the carpenter ants. They don¡¯t even need to clear it, just get into the first room, fight, then leave. We don¡¯t know if there¡¯s a cooldown or not, so this is also a scouting mission. Besides, we¡¯re still sending Jack with them so they should be alright. He¡¯s around the level of the dungeon when we went, so his presence shouldn¡¯t bump it up.¡± Sarah frowned. ¡°I still don¡¯t like it.¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°You should probably make sure they have someone who can heal them then.¡± She glared at him for a moment before storming off wordlessly.
Jack was a proud man. He stood before Centurion Forrester, his own veteran squad lined up to his left. Behind him, four more tentative squad leaders, lined up in the order he had determined with their own squads. They had only had one day of training, but it had been gruelling. They stood in the light of the setting sun, the steady chug-chug-chug of the mills mechanisms an excellent backdrop to the ceremony. ¡°Centurion! Your Optio stands before you with 4 new squads!¡± John looked down on him, the Centurion¡¯s imposing height impossible to ignore. ¡°Optio, report on their readiness.¡± Jack shifted. ¡°Sir! The Legion is prepared to carry your orders.¡± John nodded and looked out over the forty soldiers before him. ¡°First Legion!¡± Jack¡¯s heart pounded. They¡¯d been numbered, which meant they had an identity. They had a legacy. They would write the story of the First Legion starting today. The Tiros were class-less still, but the Optios were all averaging around level 12. This was a significant force. ¡°We have been formed in the trials of survival. We were mined and picked by a Clan which needed a sword. We were smelted into a shield to guard the lives of man, and hammered by the Raccans until we were bloody and broken. We did not break. Now, we depart to hone ourselves against the venerated enemies which gave rise to our very own Patriarch. When the darkness falls, will we flinch?¡± There was a beat of silence. Jack¡¯s heart dropped, and he did the only thing he could. ¡°Legion, will we flinch?!¡± ¡°No, Sir!¡± ¡°Not a chance!¡± ¡°No way!¡± He sighed, his pride leaking out like a bucket with a hole leaked water. John looked down at him and gave a barely imperceptible wink. ¡°NO, we will not! We will march through any and all obstacles, for we are the Legion of Old Mill Town, the First Legion, and we have a proud duty! We march at sunset!¡± Jack tried his best to hide his embarrassment, yet he still tried again to show the same poise and decorum that he believed was essential. ¡°Optios! Fall out and have your men formed at the Northern Gate in 30 minutes. Last squad there is digging latrines!¡± ¡°Hold!¡± John called out, and Jack just wanted to die where he was standing. Why couldn¡¯t he do anything right today? ¡°Optio Jack, I name you Optio Primus, first of my squad leaders. This will come with a pay raise, but also with more responsibility - do you accept this naming?¡± Jack¡¯s jaw was a half-heartbeat from dropping open, but with a slight shake he regained himself. ¡°Yes, Centurion! I won¡¯t let you down!¡± John smiled down at him. ¡°Good. Legion! Dismissed!¡± Jack''s next half hour was a blur of packing gear, herding the Tiros, and waiting at the gate. Soon, the wooden doors swung open, and John led them on a march into the night, a bobbing line of torches the last thing one could see from the walls. Soon, those too faded into the distance, and the town was left feeling significantly more empty than it had been.
George woke up in a hammock made of vines, suspended 15 feet off the ground. Nimbus was nowhere to be seen, but he did notice the rays of a rising sun peeking through the branches of the grove. ¡°Nimbus? Here buddy, c¡¯mon!¡± He called out, his voice hoarse. ¡°Stop playing man, where are you?¡± The sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves was his only response. With a groan, George rolled out of the hammock, almost casually grabbing onto branches on his way down the tree. He felt surprisingly relaxed after he¡¯d fallen asleep, which was handy. The relaxation quickly fled when he was reminded of the situation. ¡°I apologise for waking you, but in hindsight, our deal allows you to sleep past the allotted time. I am still new at this.¡± George jumped and turned around, the night''s events flashing back to him with alacrity. ¡°What did you do to my cat?¡± The Ranger spun and turned, looking into the branches and crooks of the surrounding trees. With a creaking noise, the bark of the red maple peeled itself down, revealing a knot in the grain of the wood. The knot spun slowly, like a whirlpool of molasses, and it gradually widened up and revealed a beautiful feminine face made of wood, with sap framing it like locks of hair. The voice answered him. ¡°It is in my possession.¡± 28. Stride John looked over the camp with quiet pride. The new Tiros were not up to par with being soldiers. They were easily distracted, unmotivated, and lacking in skill. The new Optios, however, were doing an excellent job at herding them to tasks and keeping them from slacking off too much. He had one squad digging latrines - fourth squad, as it turned out, had been the slowest, one run by an Optio Hailey. The Optio herself had been the last to arrive, and that had not been a positive mark on her performance to John. Given Jack had shared the same concerns, John had ordered him to give her and her squad extra attention. With his own skill with wood, trees, and walls, it was only 12 hours after they arrived that a proper fort had been made. They remained by the river, of course, but latrines were dug into a soil pit rather than the river, as they were upstream of Old Mill Town. A ring of spiked palisade surrounded a few ratty canvas tents, with openings in the wall at each cardinal direction. They ran guard on alternating shifts, with one Tiros on each entrance and four more constantly circling the outside. The squad''s Optio walked the outer loop, but in the opposite direction of the Tiros, which gave them overlapping fields of view and a quick way to see if anything happened to any of the guards. The tents were temporary. They only needed a few dwellings to make it an official outpost from which Dalton had revealed that he could upgrade his outpost just like Mitchell upgraded the town. However his upgrades cost a nebulous ¡®Resources¡¯ number that applied to everything from food to lumber to weapons and armour. The only other trackable metrics were a general Security rating, and a Population count, which was currently at 46 - himself, 5 Optios, 40 Tiros. Unfortunately after setting up the fort, that resources number did not account for the gear that had been set up, so John¡¯s first order on the Expedition was to send the Veteran squad back to Milltown - a five hour march - to bring a wagon of supplies back while he continued to chop down the nearby trees. By the time they returned that evening, he¡¯d upgraded enough residences to house an entire Century. With the residences done, he gave each Optio commands to get their squads to brainstorm names for the fort. Jack had taken to drilling the troops down on the beach, the ones that weren¡¯t on guard, and soon a rotation was enacted: One squad would perform guard duty, two squads would perform drills, while the last two rested. John gradually gained experience in his Centurion class as the Tiros got better at their formations - with Carpenter rolling over 20 from his logging efforts, he also gained a new skill. He felt a burst of pride as two Optios worked together to corral their squads into a combined formation. It was nothing complex, just the first squad in front with spears and shields, the squad behind throwing javelins over their heads. They were using branches instead of their actual javelins, but this drill was more about the formation than target practice. The formation moved as one undisciplined mass, not quite up to what John was hoping for, but at least nobody was tripping over anyone else. The line in front thrusted their spears in relative unison, then shuffled forwards, shields held high. The javelineers threw their weapons, then stepped in behind as they drew new ones from their limited quivers. When they reached their last, Jack called out, and the lines switched - the front line jabbed with their spears, then the back line jabbed over their shoulders. The back turned their shields to be able to sneak through the gaps in the line, and then the front line halted, allowing the rear line to push forwards and take their place. The cycle repeated until both lines were out of javelins and sweating, then Jack bid them sprint back to the start and repeat it. Throughout the day, he saw them get drilled in formations, movement, and to Jack¡¯s credit, how to close their line if one of the squad members falls. He returned to cutting down trees, and found a half squad of Tiros following him. He ignored them, sunken into his work as he was. He chopped a tree, a Tiros scrambled over it all removing branches, then the other 3 heaved and huffed and dragged it back to camp, speeding up his progress by leaps and bounds. Soon, another Tiro joined him in chopping after opening a modest class chest and retrieving another axe and the progress sped up even more. Some proactive Tiros had managed to hunt a low-level deer, and one of the Tiros had gotten a secondary Cook class and was spit-roasting the creature. John felt pride as his Legion began to come together, began to show their worth - though George was a better cook, this deer was seasoned with local herbs, and was a much better meal than his friend''s first attempt at camp cooking. John was settled in at the southern gate while he ate away from the troops, reflecting on his progress so far and his new skills from the day''s work that would make it all much easier. You have gained the class skill: Blueprint Blueprint (Basic Class Skill | Upgradable) Grants the ability to create and read Woodworking Blueprints. Blueprints created by the skill-holder cannot be used by the skill-holder to improve the level or quality of crafted items or structures. Blueprints used will syphon 1% of the crafting experience from the crafter to the creator of the Blueprint. You have gained the class skill: Forced March Forced March (Very Rare Class Skill | Upgradable) Grants the ability to deploy your units on a Forced March. A Forced March will allow your formation to move at a 50% higher rate of speed, limited by the boosted speed of the slowest unit within the formation. After 6 Hours, Stamina Points will be spent to continue, limited by the SP total of the slowest unit within the formation. After 12 hours, Health Points will be spent to continue, limited by the HP total of the slowest unit within the formation. The Fort continued to expand and be fortified as John awaited his next batch of trainees.
Miriam barged into the Clan House, hair askew and a manic look on her face. Dalton and Mitchell looked over from the small side table where a stack of papers were scattered. ¡°Alright, Advisor, it¡¯s my turn. How the hell do I upgrade a skill? My status says it''s upgradable but how?¡± ¡°Your Mastery Skill, I presume? Have you reached level 50?¡± ¡°31¡± Miriam spat. ¡°I¡¯ve been churning out basic spells like it¡¯s nobody¡¯s business. I gained two levels off creating a Mind Bolt spell. I have all the bolts. All of them. I have three new skills. I can finally do whatever wizard stuff I want. My mana comes back faster, hits harder, and I can do this now.¡± With a flash of pale-blue light, Miriam vanished. Then she slammed the door open again. Dalton continued to look at the papers. ¡°I see you gained Blink Step. Very useful skill, though the actual spell is more useful. In terms of your mastery: If it¡¯s basic elemental cantrips or class skills, sure. Do you have a shadow bolt? Have you looked into the Uncommon versions of those bolts, like Flamethrower or Ice Spike?¡± The Advisor challenged. Miriam blinked, cursed, then stormed off, muttering about basic reciprocity and counter-elements. ¡°I¡¯ll be back at level 50!¡± The Page blinked. ¡°Did she just go back in time or something?¡± Dalton let out a hearty laugh. ¡°Oh, wouldn¡¯t that be nice? No, Blink step is a movement skill. Most classes gain different types of skills, but almost all combat classes gain some sort of movement skill as their level 25 bonus. Mitchell sighed. ¡°She just won¡¯t stop.¡± Dalton nodded. ¡°It¡¯s understandable. She¡¯s going after the low hanging fruit - I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t nudge her towards resistance spells next. This is common in casters without pre-ordained spell lists.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t she work on enchanting? Keep the classes equal?¡± Dalton shrugged. ¡°Normally yes, but she overlaps. The more complex spells she creates, the more complex enchantments she gets a head start on. If she made a Lightning Totem enchantment, it would likely give her 4 or 5 enchanting levels. So I¡¯d say just let her keep cooking up spells.¡± ¡°Now that I think about it¡­ where has she been working? We fixed the mill she was using, and even before that she was just avoiding SIngh in there. Can we make her a tower or something? I feel like she should get a tower.¡± Dalton¡¯s eyes were focussed on the parchment before them. ¡°Wizard towers unlock when you get either a source of stone or a persistent trade of stone. Without incoming resources, a lot of your functions are locked. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard of a War fought between F-Rank, unlevelled towns before.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°Alright. Keep going then, you were talking about taxation brackets?¡± Daltons eyes lit up just as Mitchell¡¯s soul died just a little.
Ezekiel caught himself thinking of home, and was shocked when he realised it was his cabin in Old Mill Town that had taken the place of his ratty apartment from Before. The cabins were odd little examples of the System casually breaking the laws of physics - they were instanced. When he got to ¡®his¡¯ cabin, he would place his hand on the door, file through the now familiar list of residences that popped up in a System dialogue until he reached his own name, then select that one. He¡¯d tried entering another residence, just to get a sense of his own security, but it had flatly told him that access was denied. The people living in the cabins had shortly erected small mailboxes outside, and a primitive system of mail delivery had been born. Yet despite technically sharing a building with others, his own cabin was clean and sparsely decorated. It was quiet, and when he opened the windows, a fresh breeze drifted through. The building was surprisingly well built, lacking any sort of draft and having 3 entire rooms to himself - a bathroom, a small room with a basic cot, and a larger room that connected to the entry-way and the other two. This larger room was empty of furniture, and the bathroom lacked soap or towels as he had yet to buy them, but it was all his. No rent. No landlords or HOA¡¯s. No noisy upstairs neighbour, or weird smells, or climbing up stairs to circumvent a five year broken elevator. No sketchy parking garage, or failing AC, or¡­ Well, it was no more. Now it was the day to day struggle mixed with the simple yet mouth watering foods. It was a path through a forest that was older and more grown than any he¡¯d ever seen, hiding both beauty and terror among its boughs. It was here, and now, and it was wonderful in spite of its harshness. Ezekiel breathed deeply, still not used to the sweetness of the air despite all the time gone by. With a brief glance backwards to ensure he¡¯d arrived at the right tree, he drew the small knife he¡¯d brought for this purpose, scratched a symbol into the trunk, and looked around for his next canvas upon which to denote his Path.
Miriam grumbled to herself as she followed the river north to the flat rock she¡¯d been using as a desk.. It was not a common thing for her, but the utter audacity of that- No. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. The man had a point. It was not his fault that she had expected an answer to her own question rather than more questions. He was right, anyhow - she hadn¡¯t even considered the idea of non-standard bolts outside of the brief moment she entertained creating some sort of Mind Bolt spell. So, she started on the suggested one. A Shadow Bolt. She brought up the basic Mana Dart in her mind¡¯s eye to begin with.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. It was a simple spell, despite the amount of arrays that went into it. She recalled when she¡¯d had trouble with this not a few days ago, but at this point it was almost effortless to focus on the entirety of the spell¡¯s structure. Side-by-side with the Fire Dart, the two spells looked almost identical, save for the one small array in the middle that changed the basic Mana into Fire Mana. First, a gathering array and a targeting array, to ensure the magic came from herself instead of anything else - she knew for a fact she could change that target, but every time she had tried the spells had failed, and she¡¯d put a pin in that line of thinking for now until she gathered a deeper understanding of what made Mana into a certain type or not. Second, a focussing array and nearly blank array that functioned as a battery to hold onto the energy while the rest of the spell completed. This, too, she had adjusted, though making the energy level bigger shattered the structure, and making it smaller meant the spell fizzled before the Dart fired. Neither outcome was ideal. Finally, the fifth, sixth, and seventh arrays were all based around targeting, shaping, and launching that energy in Dart form at the intended target. With all of her experiments, the only array she could replace with the Fire or any other reflavouring pattern was the targeting array - just inserting ''Fire'' without changing or removing anything had created quite the explosion. When she activated that set of seven arrays, that spell, the first array asked the second where to get the energy from, and the second said ¡®from the caster, of course¡¯. The first array understood that, and gathered enough MP to power the array, which was quantified by a small symbol in the first pattern. She had the rest of the symbols to make it bigger or smaller within her Tome, but ran into the same fizzle-explosion problem when she¡¯d adjusted it. Spells were finely balanced and finicky to adjust, it seemed. Then the MP came from her through the third array, and the third took it all, squished it, then shoved it into the fourth, which was happy to hold on to it for her. Then it was almost an instant where a small portion of that mana was fed through a bypass of the fifth array to activate the sixth and seventh. The sixth was like a funnel further compressing the Mana, and the seventh was what launched the result of the previous 6, but the fifth¡­ The fifth array took its own miniscule tendril of mana and beamed it out into the world, looking for a target. If it didn¡¯t find one, the fifth array would go inert - that was why she had originally had an easy time of things, as in all of her practice, the fifth array had never done anything recognizable until she¡¯d fired the spell at the Raccans and discovered the minor tracking that the Mana Dart had. Now though, she almost absentmindedly inserted a less simple array in place of the fifth tracking array, and went on a tirade of frustrated yet relieved curses as three entire levels came flowing into her. New Spell Learned: Light Dart (Uncommon) Looks like the Advisor was worth his salt. She got back to work, happy to know that of everyone, her progress in her class was the fastest.
George''s eyes were wide with wonder, even as his instincts pushed him to find his cat. ¡°Good morning, thanks for the place to stay, where¡¯s my cat?¡± George fired out in rapid succession. The tree laughed. ¡°Oh, your cloud-cat is safe. He speaks quite contradictingly of you, by the way. You are both servant and master to him, and he minds not the arrangement.¡± ¡°Where is he?¡± George growled. ¡°We spoke last night. He agreed to relax in a proper feline lounge for the morning, to help prevent you from reneging on our accord. I had overmuch time to ponder the precise wording of our accord, and found it wanting. Regardless, morning has arrived and found you rested, and we have a discussion to commence with.¡± The tree opened its mouth, but it just hung open and did not move with the words that came out. As it ceased speaking, the mouth creaked closed and the eyes stared unblinking at him. George was more than a little unnerved, and wondered why in the hell he¡¯d decided this was a safe place to stay the night, but it was too late now. ¡°Just¡­ let¡¯s talk hypothetically for a moment: If I did want to leave right now, would we not have already conversed?¡± The tree¡¯s mouth creaked open again. ¡°Hypothetical?¡± George shuffled on his feet. ¡°Uhh¡­ yea. Like make-believe. Like in this case, I don¡¯t precisely want to leave, but I¡¯m asking you to imagine a situation where I did.¡± The corners of the tree-mouth turned downwards, and George fought off a shiver of unease. ¡°That would be unpleasant. I would be forced to restrain you in order to fulfil the accord.¡± George nodded, not betraying his unease. ¡°Of course, it¡¯d only be natural. But what if you couldn¡¯t keep me here, and I got away?¡± The mouth¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°That would be quite unfortunate for your feline companion. I would be forced to¡­ Well, may I ask a hypothetical question in return? Why must we discuss this unpleasant situation when you have agreed to converse with me? Have you found regret buried in your decision?¡± George blinked, fighting off the urge to run. Not without Nimbus. ¡°I have.¡± George answered plainly. ¡°But not so much to risk making an enemy of you.¡± The frown straightened out. ¡°Fortuitous! I have many questions of this world and its peoples, and would see them answered.¡± George sighed and let his shoulders slump. ¡°Until noon, yes. I will answer your questions honestly. Though if you are unaware, standing still for so long is not comfortable to a human. I may have to recuse myself fo-¡± George stumbled back as something hard pushed against the back of his knee, and the fall was arrested by a curved branch that nestled underneath him in the form of - ¡°Huh. Nevermind, I guess.¡± ¡°I hope you find it comfortable.¡± The tree said flatly. ¡°Err¡­¡± George looked down at the woven chair of roots and dirt. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s comfy enough for a few hours.¡± There was a humming noise from the tree. ¡°Com-fee? Comfy. I find this shortening of words intriguing. Does it mean anything different than the root word comfortable?¡± George blinked. This¡­ creature? Entity? It was odd. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, no. It¡¯s just an informal way of saying comfortable.¡± ¡°Comfy. Yes, that will do. Now tell me, Master Ranger who Hunts: How did you stumble across my grove? Tell me your tale.¡± George had only the briefest moment of hesitation, before he responded with his own question. ¡°I would be happy to, though may I ask a question or two in advance? I think it may be important to clear the air on certain things.¡± The tree hummed again, delighted. ¡°Clear the air. It makes no sense in your context, yet I somehow know that you mean to reach an accord on certain conversational topics before we expand our interaction. Very well, Master Ranger. Ask your questions.¡± George was beginning to grow resistant to the off-kilter speech, and started to relax. ¡°Well, first, my name is not Master, Hunter, or Ranger. My name is George Lopez, and around two, maybe three weeks ago, I was not a Hunter or Ranger of any sort, but a simple factory labourer. Could I have your name?¡± The tree froze in motion. George leaned forward towards it. ¡°Uh, hello? Are you still there?¡± The tree''s mouth opened¡­ then opened more, and more, until George¡¯s brain threw a switch that told him ¡®This is very Not Good you should be Not Here¡¯. The growing opening hit the dirt floor of the grove and stopped, revealing naught but a dark hole in the side of the tree. Then a figure emerged, and George¡¯s breath caught. Standing at roughly the height of a bicycle, a humanoid figure made of smooth, flowing wood took a tentative, shaky step out of the hole. It¡¯s feet were intricate woven tripods, three digits extending down from a slender leg. The legs came up to a gnarled, twisting torso, from which emerged two long, spindly arms covered in various assorted flowers. A flowing mass of vines and leaves approximated a head, and the figure brushed vines away with one of those too-long arms, revealing a face carved from a flat piece of wood, though the detail was so incredibly intricate it was almost as if he were looking at a person carved of wood. It had high cheekbones and a pointed chin, and a pair of hardened amber eyes. Then the figure took another step, and that image was dispelled at its too-smooth gait, and George confirmed this thing was very much not human, and not like a human. ¡°You have given a great gift to me unsolicited, Ranger, and so I reveal to you my true form. I must warn you to show great caution with other nature spirits - a name holds power unfathomed. I hope you find this gift of equal value.¡± The woven roots spread their flower-covered arms wide, as if showing off. George closed his gaping mouth. Giant coyotes and powered up wolves weren¡¯t too odd. Raccoon people were a bit stranger, but close enough. A walking, talking tree? That was a bit beyond the level of absurdity where his brain could just breeze over it. ¡°Uh¡­ so you¡¯re a tree?¡± The figure chuckled. ¡°I did not present this form to you so lightly. Use your skill of true-seeing, as all of you get, and find the truth.¡± George almost absently activated his Identify skill, then flinched at the result. Kami of the Forest Glade (Escarpment) Level 88 ¡°Fuck me, you¡¯re strong.¡± He let slip, slapping his hand over his mouth right after. ¡°Uh, I mean, you are a great and wise spirit.¡± The figure giggled. ¡°To you, I must appear quite strong indeed - yet I am tied to my grove, and it to me. Nevertheless, consider this an adequate reciprocation for the sharing of your name. Along with that, I vow to not use your name malignantly.¡± George nodded, still reeling slightly. ¡°What should I call you, then?¡± A hum. ¡°You can call me¡­ Comfy. I aim to bring comfort to those who enter my grove in peace, and so I have chosen.¡± Truly enough, the information George saw changed before his eyes, the letters scrambling and rearranging as if rolling down from a slot wheel. Comfy, Kami of the Forest Glade (Escarpment) Level 89 George let out a slow breath. ¡°Alright, Comfy. My second question before I tell you my tale: How far does your grove extend, and does every tree have someone like you watching over it? If so, we were unaware and plead forgiveness for our logging oper-¡± The Kami laughed fully, a grinding, popping sound that seemed to emanate from the figure''s entire body. ¡°Logging? I implore you not to insult me. All plants grow, live, then die. It is inevitable. If some plants die soon, that too is something you Systemized people deal with, isn¡¯t it?¡± George nodded in agreement. ¡°Life is not so friendly as I¡¯d wish for.¡± The figure waved a hand in the air dismissively. ¡°Worry not. My grove extends from the cliff to the fresh sea, though right now I am only strong enough for the surrounding trees. As I grow, so too will my grove, and thus my own power to protect it. It is not something I worry about, for it is also inevitable. Why should I begrudge you using the same resources as I? I digress, as my domain grows so too shall grow the trees.¡± George paused to parse that last sentence. ¡°Alright. Well, that¡¯s all I wanted to clear up, so I guess I¡¯ll start at the beginning. It was a morning like any other, but I awoke to a System notification - the first I¡¯d ever seen, telling me we had a week until the Tutorial started¡­¡± ¡°We?¡± ¡°Yes, I have a few friends who are currently building a town about a day''s journey to the north. They were with me when we entered the Tutorial, and it¡¯s been a fight ever since, but we¡¯ve managed to carve out a small spot for ourselves upriver, but that¡¯s skipping ahead. We regrouped and began to make our way to the closest water source¡­¡± George spared no detail, something about speaking to a friendly creature of a higher level made it easy for him to relax and let his guard down. He spoke of their fight with the Spinebear Cub at the Old Mill, of making a small camp, of Mitchell¡¯s departure and return with the dungeon chest. He spoke of Singh and his group, of Ezekiel, and of Kyla. He told the tale of their siege against the Raccans. He told of their attempts to keep the people fed. He finished off with a recounting of his scouting mission, and when he was done, he looked up to see the sun well past noon. Comfy listened intently the entire time, and asked a few clarifying questions. ¡°...so yea, that leads us to now. We were just running from the Khanclave when I found your grove, and saw it as a good place to hide for the night while I healed up.¡± The forest spirit nodded - a gesture that George had taught her in the course of the conversation. ¡°You have had many trials and tribulations, and come out alive. Is this something you are proud of and wish to continue? Or something you wish never happened?¡± George gave a half-smile and shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I do know I¡¯d never want to go back to how I was, but at the same time¡­ I miss being comfortable.¡± ¡°Did you not say earlier that I had provided comfortable seating?¡± He laughed. ¡°Yes, yes I did! But not that type of comfort. I mean more¡­ like this morning. I¡¯m not worried about much. Nimbus is safe, the town¡¯s being looked after, you¡¯re strong enough to stop anything from hurting us, I guess it¡¯s just nice to be able to let my guard down, you know?¡± Comfy hummed in her wooden way. ¡°My question still stands.¡± George sighed. ¡°Yea, I guess I am proud of it. I¡¯m strong too, and we probably give the people in our town comfort in the same way you¡¯ve given it to me. If I can do that for someone, that makes me happy, so I¡¯m proud. The trials could come less often, though. I¡¯ve barely had time to work on the things I enjoy.¡± "What is it that you enjoy, George of Lopez?" Comfy asked, and George had gathered enough about her entirely unshielded mannerisms to tell she was genuinely curious. The man still had to chuckle at the way she said his name. "I''m a simple guy. I like to cook food for my friends, and have them enjoy it. I like to spend time with Nimbus, look after him and fix up his fur when it gets all knotted." He paused for a moment before mentally shrugging. "I enjoy companionship and a warm body in my bed. I enjoy the smiles and laughter of those I care for. I enjoy... well, life, I guess. Yet all we''ve been doing lately is fighting and hunting and war and I''m just starting to get sick of it all." ¡°Then a gift, for staying with me past the limits of our accord. Should you wish it, I believe I can influence your next skill. I have not done it before, but I feel a connection to you, George Lopez. Will you accept my gift?¡± George smiled at the Kami. She seemed young, despite her clear age and experience. ¡°Sure, I guess-urk!¡± Comfy looked sad, even as her arm was extended and the tips of her fingers punctured George¡¯s stomach. He looked down, unbelieving. He hadn¡¯t even seen her move, and the arm was pulsing, pumping something into him, and then it retracted and he was falling from his seat into darkness, the last thing on his conscious mind the stream of Level Up notifications that almost seemed to chase him down to the ground, followed by one more that he got halfway through reading before passing out. You have gained the class skill: Treestrider Treestrider (Uncommon Class Skill | Upgradable) Grants the ability to mark trees as significant, and travel between significant trees with MP. The number of trees that can be marked increases at one per each 10 levels in the class that granted this skill. Current Tree Limit: 2 Significant Trees: 1 29. Scattered Eighteen MP. That was the difference between a stick¡ªreally more of a twig, in all honest approximation¡ªsnapping under her weight, or supporting her. A slim, nearly imperceptible margin that carried with it the weight of her growing power. It had taken many iterations, a reluctant hiring of an assistant - who, to her growing frustration, unlocked an Enchanter class as well- to lighten her workload, and entirely too many hours spent on Enchanting for her liking. Yet with her progression in her primary class outpacing her secondary class by an embarrassing margin, she had little choice. She''d devoted the entire day to the meticulous grind, each enchantment bringing her closer to equilibrium. The levelling gains came slowly, like the steady drip of water from a half-frozen stream, but they came nonetheless. The process had become a strange rhythm for her: pushing the limits of her current enchantments, then searching her repertoire of over twenty learned spells for new flashes of inspiration. She discovered subtleties she hadn''t noticed before¡ªnuances in mana flow, the almost musical harmony of sigils as they aligned into new configurations. After spending the better part of the morning enchanting twigs, she stumbled on an unexpected revelation while working on a crude wooden bucket. The value of the enchanted object itself contributed to the experience gain, as did the difficulty and complexity of the enchantment. That simple bucket had marked a turning point. She smiled at the thought, a bit ruefully. At this rate, she mused, she might as well start a high-end furniture line. Compared to manifesting arrays, Enchanting felt almost playful, like stacking blocks as a child. But she wasn''t about to underestimate its potential¡ªespecially not after seeing her work take shape. Later, she made her way to the dirt field where the legion had been practising before they shipped out the previous day. She spotted a group of Aspirants carving fresh javelins, their rough-hewn weapons accumulating in untidy piles. Sliding into their midst, she offered no explanation, just action. One by one, she hardened the javelins with enchantments, the faint blue glow of her mana flaring briefly each time her spell took hold. The Aspirants'' questions started small, but they trickled in as she worked. "Yes, I was here at the start of it all," she answered one of them, her tone measured and patient. "No, I didn¡¯t need to sleep with Mitchell for my position," she added flatly to another, then smirked faintly, "though I do so anyway." "Do I think we can win the war against the Khanclave?" Her hand paused briefly before moving to the next javelin. "Yes." Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the arson that had claimed Old Mill Town¡¯s walls¡ªand to the one spell she had yet to create despite poring over it many times. The thought hovered like a ghost, and she made a mental note to revisit it later. For now, there was more to be done. Her attention shifted to the shields propped neatly against the interior of the wall. These, she decided, would serve as a test of her next idea. Moving to the first shield, she drew delicate shapes on its surface with her finger, feeling the familiar tug of mana. The MP cost climbed higher than expected, but she hardly noticed. Her INT stat had recently crossed the 200 threshold, and her mana regeneration was now a constant, comforting presence. It made her feel invincible, even reckless, though she tempered that with focus. The first shield was a success, the enchantment glowing faintly as her mana suffused the wood. Wooden Shield of Fire Resistance (Quality) A handcrafted wooden shield created by a well-meaning carpenter, this shield has since been enchanted by a burgeoning Enchantress to resist the fire spells and abilities used by the enemies of her home. Resists 25% of fire damage that is blocked by this shield. She nodded with satisfaction. No more burn victims¡ªnot if she had anything to say about it. The pile of shields dwindled as she worked, her mana flowing freely into each one. She completed seven more shields before a commotion near the south gate pulled her from her task. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she assessed the noise. Setting down the half-finished ninth shield and letting the nascent enchantment dissipate, she strode toward the gate, leaving the crafters behind to marvel at her handiwork. Their excited murmurs barely registered as she pushed through the small crowd gathering at the gate. As she drew closer, her confidence faltered. These weren¡¯t new arrivals, as she¡¯d initially assumed. They were returnees. She recognized them immediately: Kyla and Ezekiel. Relief flickered briefly across her features¡ªuntil she noticed who wasn¡¯t there. George. Nimbus. Her heart sank, the weight of their absence settling heavily in her chest. The air around her seemed to still, her earlier satisfaction eclipsed by a sudden, aching dread.
¡°And you let him?¡± Sarah snarled, though Kyla didn¡¯t back up even slightly. ¡°You try stopping him when he wants to do something. George wanted us to get home with Ezekiel having got a class, and we did. You can back right the fuck up.¡± Sarah didn¡¯t do so, instead hefting her staff. Mitchell¡¯s voice cut through the tension. ¡°Enough! Sarah, leave them be. You¡¯re causing a scene. Ezekiel, Kyla, with me to the longhouse. Actually, Kyla with me, Ezekiel I need you to go gather the core.¡° ¡°Already here.¡± Miriam made herself known. ¡°Where¡¯s George?¡± ¡°And with John off on his mission and George still out Ranging, that makes it us three. Well, come on then. Harvests have been good and profitable lately, so we can have ourselves an actual dinner.¡± Mitchell led them into the Clan house, buying a large roast of something called Honeyduck and spitting it over the long firepit. When he made the purchase for 25 F coins, he was not expecting the creature to be the size of a small horse, so spitting it took some effort. Luckily for them, the cooking apparatus was built directly into the stone of the pit, else he¡¯d have worried about weight. The duck almost immediately sizzled over the flames, so Mitchell spread out the coals to get even heat, but that reduced the light in the main room. By the time he¡¯d opened all of the windows, everyone he¡¯d asked for was seated around the pit. To his immediate right was Miriam, while Sarah and Kyla sat on the bench on that side. Dalton sat to his left, with Ezekiel seated just beyond and looking at the Honeyduck with wide eyes and flared nostrils. ¡°So.¡± Mitchell started. ¡°If I have this correct: Your explorations led you to a large camp of horse-riders, and those horse-riders were hostile on sight. You then marked a path all the way back here to make it easier for them to follow you, so if they are any sort of intelligent, we can expect they¡¯re scouting us out even now.¡± ¡°What was I supposed to do? I was sent out to find a secondary class and that involved leaving markings. It¡¯s already at 15, by the way. I got a big chunk of experience when the trail completed and I got the class. Also, that¡¯s a big god damn chicken.¡± Mitchell processed the report even as he ignored the comment about the food. ¡°Anything new in your skills that can help?¡± Ezekiel shrugged. ¡°Maybe? When our people - members of our Settlement, to be precise - travel through land that''s been mapped, they get a small increase to stamina efficiency and movement speed. I can also jot shorthand notes to be added to maps later, and I gained a Cartography Mastery as my first that helps me make maps. If I make a note shorthand about an area I¡¯ve mapped personally, it will automatically update that map. Yes, I can see that you need your Clan Map, so we¡¯ll get started on that tonight. Materials will be expensive though, I can already tell.¡± ¡°Alright, so the first goal was objectively a success.¡± Miriam stated easily. ¡°If my maths is correct, you encountered these people shortly after we dealt with the arson. Do you have any observations on them? Capabilities, number of forces?¡± Ezekiel grunted. ¡°At least a hundred riders. Some of their mounts can cross water as if it weren¡¯t there, and they¡¯re good at shooting while riding. They don¡¯t have too much in the way of armour, but then neither do we.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we get John for this?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°If we¡¯re talking about our military, it doesn¡¯t make too much sense to do it without him.¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°John¡¯s training his troops. With the new immigration policy, it should only be 3 or four more days until he has a full complement of troops to work with. Give him two more days to send them all through the dungeon, and we should have a full army within the week. Ezekiel, I¡¯d like you to get our paths set up - from here to the dungeon would be an ideal first.¡± The new Pathfinder slumped in his seat. ¡°Can I rest first?¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°Fine, but you go out with the next squad in the morning. Kyla, I need you to handle the town for a bit. Work with Dalton, listen to his advice. Dalton, we need to get on a war footing. Anything you know about helping us get there, we need to start working on. Miriam, I know you¡¯ve been working on your own things recently, but do you think it would be possible for you to create a war spell or two? I know your Chain Lightning can do a lot of damage, but do you have anything that affects the earth? Makes trenches, quicksand, anything like that?¡± ¡°Not yet, but I¡¯ll get working on it. I¡¯ve had the Earth array since the start, it just doesn¡¯t work well with the Mana Dart so I¡¯ve not worked with it.¡± ¡°Good. Let us know your progress. If anyone needs anything, talk to Kyla. I¡¯m going to head out to go see John. My own class needs some training, so I¡¯m going to go run the dungeon- just the first few rooms!¡± He clarified before anyone protested. ¡°I need encounters where I can not retreat, but still win. The Carpenter ants are perfect for that. I should be gone for a couple days dealing with that.¡± Mitchell looked around the room. ¡°Any questions?¡± ¡°Who¡¯s going to defend the town?¡± Ezekiel asked. ¡°If you, John, and the Legion are out training, and I¡¯m making paths, you¡¯re leaving it to Sarah, Miriam, and Kyla. Nevermind who¡¯s going to go get George, if he¡¯s even still alive.¡± Mitchell gave a small smile at that. ¡°Well, at least there¡¯s one thing that¡¯s good news. Dalton, could you remind me what happens when one of our Core Roles is vacated due to the death of the previous person to occupy it?¡± ¡°Depends on your system of governance. In a dictatorship, you are immediately prompted to select a new person, if the role didn¡¯t already have a backup seeded.¡± Mitchell let the smile grow. ¡°No prompt, which means he''s fine. If he¡¯s not back by the time the Legion returns, we¡¯ll mobilise our troops and go take him back. Now, lets speak of lighter matters while we wait for our food. I, for one, find this smell absolutely mouthwatering.¡±
The sunset was beautiful, John decided. It was also better with Sarah by his side, but since they¡¯d gotten here, it had been hard to find the time for just them. With the declaration of war, those moments seemed like they were even further away. Below him in the camp, the training for the day had ended. Optio Hailey¡¯s squad was on patrol, while Jack¡¯s veteran squad had left earlier in the day for a hunting trip. As the most accurate squad with their javelins, it had been the easy choice. Two squads were resting, while the last was performing camp duties - managing latrines, building further earthworks for defence, and maintaining gear that had been dirtied or damaged during the day''s training. Earlier in the day, a surprise group of visitors had come in the form of Ezekiel, Mitchell, and a full 10 trained Legionnaires. They were barely a higher level than a new recruit, but they came with knowledge of his formations and drills, which was enough to make it worth it. John hastily promoted one of Jack¡¯s squad to Optio, and the sixth squad was born. He started the support squad as well, having an extra Tiros to work with. John had been filled in on the developments - both Ezekiel¡¯s personal growth and the situation with George being missing. The new Pathfinder had joined him for the walk to the dungeon entrance an hour away, and they had together marked the trail back to the Fort before he left to return to Old Mill Town. Mitchell had stayed in the camp. In the morning, John would take Jack¡¯s squad to the dungeon along with Hailey¡¯s, and the two Optios would run their squads through the first few rooms repeatedly until their highest levelled soldier was at 15. From Jack¡¯s progression, that should gain them all the Shield Brother skill, which will make the squads much more effective at fighting in formation. Level 15 should show him what the next skill was, and by his intuition Jack himself should be the first to reach that point.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. John himself had continued to gain steady levels, both from the efforts of his Legion and from his own work in creating the camp. Most of the options for him to work further on the camp were not available - the Fort was at level one, and he could see no mechanism for upgrading that. Given the class was new, he couldn¡¯t even ask Dalton, so for now he would focus on filling out his forces. A few mechanics of the Fort allowed for him to create such a large force - firstly, was that all Resources overlapped. He wouldn¡¯t complain, but it made it so that he could constantly feed wood into the resource depot, and retrieve field rations from the very same Resource pool. He could also get basic weapons and armour, unprocessed lumber, and even stone blocks, though the stone was exorbitant in terms of costs. He also had the option to set a few roles for his Century - he could set specific people as the Scout, Quartermaster, Doctor, Engineer, and Guard Captain, though for now he filled the roles himself. It seemed that was the default, unless he specifically set someone else in those roles. Once he had the soldiers ready, then he would fill out the support squad, but until then the roles weren¡¯t expressly needed. Then, having the first member of the support squad with nothing specific to do, he sat her down in his tent and performed a little interview. The tent was like all of the other ratty canvas tarps, but he¡¯d made himself a chair once the wall was complete and he had the extra wood. He made a note that he needed another, as it was difficult to feel official when one of the two of them was sitting on a cot. ¡°Welcome to the First Legion, Tiros.¡± John started. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Sir, I am Tiros Dalia.¡± The woman answered. ¡°Level 6 Legionnaire, unclassed secondary.¡± John nodded. ¡°Good. The Legion has need of services - tell me about your strengths and your interests.¡± Dalia¡¯s black hair was close-cropped, yet she still moved to tuck a non-existent strand back. ¡°I¡­ Well, I¡¯m a Legionnaire, sir. I am proficient with the gladius, scutum, and javelin, as well as the construction of basic field fortifications. My main interest is performing loyally to the Legion, and my strength is that I have yet to gain a secondary class, and can be put where needed. I bring duty and adaptability.¡± John sighed internally. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll make it more simple: We have openings for various special roles within the Century, and I¡¯d like to place you in one of them. Your options are-¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to learn medicine, sir. Troops can get by on rations, they can fight through unknown territory, and sufficient cunning and tactics could negate the need for engineering. However, an injured soldier means the Legion is not at full strength, and reduces the effectiveness of all.¡± John raised an eyebrow, surprised at her level of thought. ¡°Very well. Until our next trip to Old Mill Town, I¡¯m assigning you the duty of ensuring all of the squads have what they need to remain healthy and effective. Work with the Optios, bring any requests to me.¡± Dalia¡¯s thin smile twitched. ¡°All due respect sir, that¡¯s Quartermaster work.¡± John stared down at her, watching as the smile faded and she began to squirm in her seat. ¡°So be it. In the morning, you accompany Mitchell and the two squads to the dungeon. There, you will wait with him until the days work is done, and you will do your utmost best to perform first aid on any injured Legionnaires until you receive the class.¡± Dalia stilled. ¡°I don¡¯t know any medical techniques yet.¡± John sighed, losing some of his patience with her. ¡°Mitchell was First Aid trained in the Before, he can at least teach you to patch up cuts and scrapes.¡± Soon after, she¡¯d left the tent to go find the only non-Legion person in the camp. The sun set below the horizon, and darkness fell across the fort. John wandered back to the centre of camp, where a large fire held the cold and dark at bay. Off to one side, a smaller cookfire was going, over top of which was a giant pot slowly being stirred by a Legionnaire. Jack¡¯s squad had managed to hunt two deer, and had relayed that the herd had over 50 of the creatures. Only one was being cooked, the other hung up to drain before it would be butchered and smoked later. All in all, it was shaping up to be another quiet night when a wordless shout came from the east guard, swiftly followed by the sound of a roaring beast. ¡°Spinebear!¡± The eastern guard shouted. ¡°Alarm!¡± John didn¡¯t hesitate to sound the call, the impending action purging the encroaching sleep from his mind. ¡°Legion! To arms!¡± The camp burst into a flurry of frantic activity. A crowd began forming in front of the impromptu log they had leaned their swords up against. ¡°Optios, gather your squad¡¯s gear with one of your Tiros, the rest clear out!¡± John called out, slightly worried about the sharp weapons being moved in that crowd. He gathered his own gladius and scutum from beside his tent, and made for the east gate. Another pained roar sounded, and John was just able to make out the pale white of the bone-spikes in the dim firelight. ¡°Bring torches!¡± He shouted to nobody in particular, confident the order would be obeyed. He had no time to waste. A single Legionnaire was doing its best to evade the powerful claw swipes, and was doing quite well at keeping the bear back, but with the level difference, John knew a single hit would spell his doom. Adult Spinebear Level 24 With a pang of intuition, John activated his Forced March skill, and he put on an extra burst of speed. He was too far to help, having neglected the javelins in his rush to gear up. He could only watch as a gigantic paw swiped downwards, could only observe as the Legionnaire defiantly lifted his shield and chambered his gladius for a counter - just as he¡¯d been trained to do. Unfortunately, his defence was too little and the trained manoeuvre ill-suited to this opponent. The swipe faced only the briefest resistance before crashing through his guard with the sound of splintering wood and cracking bone. John let out a throaty roar and lowered his own shield, bracing it with his shoulder and ramming into the Spinebear with all of his might. To both his and the beast''s surprise, the Spinebear was bodily pushed over, rolling once before finding its feet again and staring down at the 6 foot tall Centurion. John¡¯s opponent reared back on its hind legs and roared, and John had the briefest thought that it would likely be easier to fight an actual house than this thing. Then the bear came down, both paws whistling through the air, and John used his Testudo skill to block both, though the sheer weight and strength they each held was too much for his shield to handle, and the wood buckled and snapped under the pressure. John cast it aside, lunging forward with his sword and thrusting for the creature''s eyes, but it flinched back, and the thrust skittered off of fur as thick as wire. He spun back, avoiding the chomping jaws, and squared up with the beast once again, taking stock of the situation. ¡°Centurion, down!¡± He heard Jack¡¯s voice bellow, and he complied - both due to ducking under a horizontal swipe, and because he knew his best soldier wouldn¡¯t command him without reason. True enough, a swarm of javelins flew forward, well over thirty of them, and though most of them were unable to penetrate the Spinebears thick fur and likely thick hide, a few managed to penetrate, drawing a pained bellow from the creature. John scrambled back to his feet. ¡°Stay back!¡± He ordered, ¡°This foe is beyond you!¡± ¡°No sir!¡± Jack answered, stepping up to his side to an incredulous stare. ¡°Legion! Prepare javelins, throw on the Centurion¡¯s mark! Optio Hailey, get your squad out here and collect the wounded. Optio Johanns, I want your squad running more javelins here from the depot! We stand with the Centurion!¡± ¡°Ha-oh!¡± They called back, a guttural shout of approval. John soon found himself in the middle of a battle line, terrified yet resolute Legionnaires to either side, stretching out further than he¡¯d expected. The presence of so many armed people all prepared to help him, to fight and bleed for the purpose as he¡­ Something came over John. Not something magical, or System related, but entirely natural. It was camaraderie. It was the sense of being bigger than yourself, of being a part of a great working. Beyond that, it was his Legion. He couldn¡¯t help but smile, then he got to work. ¡°Encircle the beast!¡± John called, moving forward to distract it again. ¡°Loose formation, don¡¯t block any swipes head-on!¡± ¡°And me?¡± A cold voice said from behind him, and John instantly placed it as Mitchell. Without looking, he answered. ¡°About time you got armoured up. Go do your thing. The Legion has your back.¡± The clang of metal on metal responded, then the plate-armoured Page stamped forwards through the line, round shield almost seeming too small on his arm and sword still sheathed at his waist. ¡°Good. I don¡¯t mean to tell you all what to do, but for the sake of the buff, I hope you don¡¯t mind. Legion, repel and execute this abomination, in the name of the Clan.¡± So this was what it felt like having Mitchell¡¯s Aura of Command cast on him. He felt energy thrumming through his veins, his muscles quivering with excitement, all thoughts of retreat or defeat purged from the deepest recesses of his mind. From the looks of the soldiers around him, they felt it too. No longer were they terrified, no more did he see glances being shot towards the crushed guard¡¯s corpse - his Legion was all business. A good thing, as the Spinebear finished pulling the javelins out and let out a roar, charging straight for John. ¡°Now!¡± Two steps, a swing, and the sound of crashing steel, and Mitchell was in melee with the creature, the flickering of firelight the only illumination. With amazement in his eyes, John watched as Mitchell blocked one of the claw-swipes that had all but pulped the guardsman who¡¯d called the alarm. He bent his knees, then pushed back, shoving the paw off of his shield and dodging the follow-up attack with a strafe. ¡°Fucker¡¯s strong!¡± The Legion was not idle during this. Following John¡¯s earlier command, they began to encircle the bear, javelins held ready to toss. ¡°Give us an opening, we¡¯ll fill it with holes!¡± The Centurion shouted, his mind flying through tactical possibilities now that they had someone who could actually tank this thing¡¯s hits. The only response he got was the armoured figure taking a step forwards and swinging its shield at the bear¡¯s snout. Rearing back, the Spinebear managed to dodge the swing, but Mitchell followed through and slammed the edge of his shield into the hind legs of the creature to no effect. The bear came back down but rather than swiping, it spread its arms wide, aiming to crush him with the spikes protruding from its entire torso. ¡°Now!¡± John shouted, swinging his gladius forward through the air as a visual cue. Again a swarm of javelins flew through the air like a bunch of nails attracted to an electromagnet, and despite the bears tough hide, more than a third of the javelins managed to stick into the beast¡¯s thinner belly fur.. It sounded another bellow of pain, then turned and made to leave, finally seeing the line of Legionnaires standing between it and the forest, Jack standing at the right side of the line. Shouts sounded all around, cries of ¡®No more Javelins!¡¯ and ¡®We did it!¡¯ contrasting in the air. The bear lunged forward to break through the line or just walk over it. ¡°John!¡± Mitchell called. ¡°A little help?¡± John¡¯s Forced March skill was still active, so he was easily able to catch up to the Page. He was trying to hold the bear back, shield discarded and both arms wrapped around one of the hind legs. John thundered forwards and grabbed a spike on the other leg, planting his feet and yanking with all of his might. The spike cracked from the force, but he managed to yank the bear''s leg back enough that rather than the lunge it was trying to make, it fell flat on its torso. John let go of the spike for a brief moment, reared back, and kicked it at the base where it disappeared into the Spinebear¡¯s fur. With a cry of pain more wild and exaggerated than any before, the bear scrambled and whirled about, sending Mitchell sprawling. It¡¯s black eyes stared down at John with hatred, and as it roared in his face he roared back, thrusting at its knee with his sword. His heart dropped as the sword got caught in the creatures fur and was yanked out of his hand, then a pair of hungry jaws snapped at him and without any weapons, he had no choice: He grabbed onto the Spinebears jaws in an attempt to keep them from closing and was immediately struggling for his life. The teeth were sharp, even if he¡¯d managed to avoid the points, and soon his hands were slick with blood. His arms shook with effort, and he felt like he was trying to keep a hydraulic press from crushing him. The sounds and scrambling of his troops faded behind the rushing blood in his ears, and his world narrowed to himself, and the heavy death that was trying to take him. He heard none of the shouts, heard nothing of his troops - his entire perception had narrowed to him, his bleeding hands, and the entirely too large set of jaws that threatened to snap closed around him. His arms shook with fatigue and pain, his face poured sweat, the rotten stench of the Spinebear¡¯s gasping breaths washed over him and made him nauseous, but he held firm. With feet planted and arms spread wide, John felt the jaws start to widen. He pushed, tearing it apart one inch at a time, and he felt panicked twitches and flinches coming from his quarry, but he didn¡¯t let go. He spread the jaws wide, and with a final, herculean effort that was announced with a crack like a gunshot, something in the Bear¡¯s jaw snapped, and the bottom flopped loose. It was only then that John realized the beast was dead. Taking a couple of steps back and cradling his sliced up hands to his chest, he looked over the absolutely massive carcass of the Spinebear, impaled with so many javelins it was as if it had grown a second set of spines. Gladius hilts protruded from all over, shattered shields littered the ground outside the east gate, and a small triage center had been set up just inside the wall. John wasn¡¯t sure if it was him, Mitchell, or the Legion who had finally killed it, but with its death came a wonderful bonus. He himself got a level in Centurion, but when Mitchell came up and laid a hand on his shoulder, the contact point glowing a pale blue, and he felt an itching in his lacerated palms, he knew a more significant advancement had been made. ¡°Lay on Hands.¡± Mitchell explained without prompting. ¡°I get a pool of 50%, and I can heal people with it. I¡¯m giving you all 50. I won¡¯t be bringing anyone from the brink to fighting shape any time soon, but for patching up the MVP of that fight? Easy choice.¡± John made to push the hand off of his shoulder, but Mitchell held firm. He knew that if he really pushed, his Strength was higher, but he didn¡¯t want to make a big deal out of it, and Mitchell explained further anyways. ¡°You¡¯re my priority. It¡¯s just simple math. You can make more Legionnaires. Legionnaires can¡¯t make more of you. We need you for the war, so you get healed. Besides, Sarah would have my head if I came back, told her you were injured, and that I did nothing about it.¡± John nodded, and began shouting orders. ¡°Legion, damn fine job! I want a squad to move that thing away from the gate, and another on guard - there may be more around. I want everyone at full readiness for the next hour, then we can go back to our shifts. Optio Jack, your squad is exempt. You¡¯ll be taking as short of a sleep as you can and heading out for the Dungeon with haste. If anyone needs me, I¡¯ll be patrolling the walls. Mitchell will help with basic first aid, right?¡± The man nodded, armoured helm now hanging from the hook at his waist. ¡°Yep. I¡¯m no Sarah, but I can show you how to tie a bandage and clean a wound, for sure.¡± John nodded. ¡°There you go. One final thing! When I said that was damn fine work, I meant it. You¡¯re all getting a bonus when this campaign is over.¡± That one sentence turned the mood in the camp from slightly shell-shocked to exuberant confidence. Even though one legionnaire had been lost and three more injured by spines that had been shot out from the beast, they had taken down a giant creature of fantasy. He expected George, or Miriam could also have done it in the correct circumstances, but he¡¯d stood toe-to-toe with it and come out on top, and his blood was running hot. He let out a wordless shout of triumph, that was picked up and echoed by his Legion, their cries defiant against the encroaching dark. 30. Ignis Judicium Jack knew that he was something different. He knew that he did not come with the others to the Earth¡¯s tutorial. He knew next to nothing about what happened before. He didn¡¯t remember if he had family, or friends, dreams or aspirations, fears, any of it. All he knew was that one day, he started remembering, and shortly after that, he¡¯d found himself standing before the Centurion, some intuition in his gut pushing him to ingratiate himself to these people. It was a hard time, full of training and a cinched belt, but they¡¯d pulled through. It was a dangerous time, and memories of the Raccans were some of the most vivid in his mind. Yet each horrible memory was tempered with the fraternity, the camaraderie brought by the Legion, and he found the nightmares held at bay by his own growing confidence and proficiency. However, this was his first time with his squad on an actual mission, with no backup, and the weight of leadership was pressing down on him in a way he was still growing used to. ¡°Odd.¡± One of his soldiers commented. ¡°Keep it locked up tight.¡± Jack admonished, eyes straining to see through the darkness of the first chamber. Behind the 9-man squad, a swirling blue portal hung in the air just an inch over the craggy ground. ¡°Remember: Retreat before injury.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to say ¡®Death before Dishonour¡¯ or something to get us pumped up?¡± Jack looked at the woman who¡¯d made the remark, holding her gaze until she averted her eyes. ¡°Retreat before injury. There was no sign of any sort of restrictions or cool downs, so we proceed as per the briefing. Besides, none of you have fought the ants before. I have, so when I say we retreat, we do so. We¡¯ve practiced our backstep formations, but I want to put them to the test.¡± ¡°Yes, Optio.¡± Jack grimaced. John had made good choices when the Legion was small, but as it grew, he had an innate sense that the ranking system would need to be expanded. Optio held a higher rank than a simple leader of a contubernium. The interim rank of Optio Primus would work, but that was the role of an actual Optio. He was unsure of the name for a squad leader, but he knew it was a position that held respect, though not to the level of the Optio or the Centurion himself. An Optio was a right hand of the Centurion, not a squad leader. Occasionally he caught himself daydreaming of the coming day when they had a full Legion, thousands of men in their storied Cohorts taking to the field of battle in formation, Centurions each with their own host coming together under the command of then-Legate Forrest, standards waving in the breeze- ¡°Contact front.¡± ¡°Understood, Legionnaire.¡± Jack responded, shaking his head to dispel the errant thoughts. ¡°Numbers?¡± Jack could see them just fine, a trio of Carp workers slowly ambling down the tunnel. ¡°Six, Six, Eight.¡± The soldier responded. Jack nodded. He had made a point of following John¡¯s directions for combat-thoughtspace. Outside of battle, it was important, almost essential for his squad to feel seen and recognized, but in battle was a different story. In battle, it was imperative that he see his squad for what they were - Legionnaires. Some might be better at some things than others, but at the end of the day, they fought with shield and spear and sword in formation, and that was what they needed to do here. Thus, he used ranks instead of names where possible. It¡¯s not that he didn¡¯t know his squad - Terem, Jian, Tally, a set of triplets who¡¯d insisted on being placed near each other. Johann and Cynthia, a couple who were too busy angsting over the world to finally make the first move on each other. Kenneth, the old widow, and Numen, the consummate professional, an ice cold yet reliable soldier. Finally there was Tara, his best soldier and next in line for squad leader if he were to take a promotion. But in here, they were all Legionnaires - it had been a mark of pride for him, convincing John to allow his squad the promotion from Tiros. They were no longer a green squad of fresh faced recruits, and their discipline showed it. ¡°Double-line reverse echelon formation. Sword spacing, ready to advance or fall back on my mark. Prepare Javelins.¡± The squad knew exactly how to carry out his orders - two lines of four formed, and the outer flanks took a pace forwards to create a v-shape. The formation was more effective with two or more contubernii, as two files wide was not sufficient to prevent enveloping on either side, but with three enemies the formation should hold. A screech sounded from the stronger ant as the group was spotted, and scutum shields slammed down against the rough floor of the cave as the first rank took their positions. Behind them, each front-line soldier had a backup, to either interpose their shield and prevent an injury, or to take their place if a soldier should fall. Jack decided then and there that none of his soldiers would fall. ¡°Alpha Squad!¡± He called out in a moment of inspiration. As the first and foremost of the First Legion¡¯s squads, and the only one that could be considered veterans, Jack hoped the Centurion would allow them to keep the designation. ¡°Loose javelins!¡± With grunts of effort, first four, then four more javelins soared forward toward the approaching creatures. Surprised, Jack watched as only two javelins missed, the rest finding purchase in the shining carapace that protected the ant on the left. The level six ant fell in on itself, six javelins protruding from its back like spines. ¡°Ready second javelin!¡± He called out. ¡°Left files aim for the six, Right files for the eight. Aim¡­ throw!¡± As one, eight more javelins shot out, piercing through chitin with ease. Jack smiled and threw his first javelin of the encounter, finishing off the dying level 8. ¡°Collect your javelins, check them for damage. I want a report on how our weapons fared, then form up and prepare to delve deeper.¡± ¡°Ha-oh, Optio.¡± Jack rubbed his brow where he could reach under his helmet. ¡°If it was all this easy, John wouldn¡¯t have been acting how he did. I want half of you watching that next hallway and the other half policing our javelins. Give the first set to the watch - I¡¯d rather have four of you with full javelin loads than eight with varying amounts. Let¡¯s do this quick, and move on to the next. Good work, Alpha Squad.¡± There was no glowing light nor impassioned speech, but his soldiers walked with slightly more purpose, and held their heads just a little bit higher.
¡°Another successful day.¡± George said, strolling casually back into the forest clearing with a pair of rabbits over his shoulder. When he reached the center, he closed his eyes, felt deep inside himself, and knew. ¡°That one.¡± He said, pointing at the nearby oak tree. With a sigh and a scattered applause, Comfy shifted out of the tree, appearing to emerge from the trunk like a stage performer coming out from behind a curtain. ¡°Good! Good. You are making fine leaps towards your goal, Master Ranger.¡± George hummed his agreement. With his new Treestrider Skill, he had marked both a nearby tree - an old willow, sat in the crook of a stream - and one closer to the Khanclave¡¯s camp. This morning, he¡¯d used the skill for the first time, walking through the trunk as if it weren¡¯t there, and walking out of the other marked tree - A gnarled old spruce that was missing most of its lower branches and whose crown leaned dangerously far from its base. This little game was one Comfy had designed to help him recognize when a tree was considered ¡®significant¡¯, so it could be used with his skill. When he was done harassing any attempts to follow into the forest, he¡¯d come back, almost idly spotting and hunting down the rabbits on his shoulder. A couple quick Cook spells, and significantly higher quality rabbit meat was soon roasting over a fire. He¡¯d stay here with Nimbus and Comfy for the night, then head back out in the morning and keep going. Old Milltown and the Khanclave were at war, but in George¡¯s mind, it was really just him they were at war with - if it were up to him, those wannabe Mongols wouldn¡¯t ever lay eyes on their towns walls. A brief thought had him wondering if Kyla had made it back yet, then he admonished himself and resolved to forget about her until after the war. He reluctantly forced thoughts of her from his mind. For the third time that hour.
¡°Nettles!¡± Sarah spat as if it were a curse, dumping the entire concoction onto the ground and ignoring the way it sizzled and hissed as she kicked dirt over it. ¡°Uhm.. do you think we should bury it deeper or something?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Sarah whirled about on her apprentice, a waif of a girl that nonetheless was a part of the growing Legion. Her name was Dalia, and though she was tight-lipped about the why, she¡¯d been sent back from the new fort to learn more about medicine. She already had a Battlefield Medic class, though, so she had to assume her husband had seen some sort of action. Either that, or he was pushing their training entirely too hard. Either way, the Battlefield Medic class was quite different from her own. No spells or MP at all, but a minor proficiency with both alchemical items and pretty much every form of weapon made the class more than useful even at its low level. So Sarah had taken her on, as she was both healer and alchemist. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± Sarah responded after a moment of thought. After each attempt, she¡¯d Diagnose the result, but it was clear Diagnose was not meant for that type of identifying. If she¡¯d had more glass to work with, she¡¯d just bring batches of potions down to Tommen to get identified, as he¡¯d begun offering that service just the past day, but as it stood, her ¡°lab¡± was far away from the Market and she didn¡¯t want to walk over after ever- ¡°Dalia? How¡¯s your cardio?¡± ¡°Upper half of the legion, ma¡¯am.¡± The woman responded, sharp angular eyes boring into her in promised retribution. ¡°Good! You can be my runner.¡± ¡°... yes ma¡¯am.¡± Dalia responded forlornly. Sarah returned to her paltry collection of beakers and stills. ¡°For now, watch as I attempt our newest creation! Surely, this will be the one!¡± Dalia sighed, but paid full attention. She was starting to see why this odd woman had been placed in charge of things - this was the fifteenth attempt today to create either a healing, mana, or stamina potion. With each failed attempt, she would note something down, gather up new ingredients, and dispose of the previous attempt before starting again. This time was no different, other than the fact that Dalia soon found herself carrying a black sludge-filled test tube down to the market with a pair of metal tongs. She was only mildly surprised by the result. Alchemical Sludge (High Quality) This paradoxical concoction is a high quality failed attempt at alchemy. Consuming this item will grant a randomized effect from a pool of all alchemical effects. The random effect will not be a lower grade than High Quality. Warning: The alchemical effects list includes all poisons, oils, bombs, munitions, potions, tonics, sprays, pills, and incenses. Sarah was, however, overjoyed at the result. ¡°I know how to make a Potion of Random Effect, then! It¡¯s not the target I was going for, but it¡¯s still a step forward. Besides, it already raised my level just from having you tell me that.¡± ¡°To a skill level?¡± Dalia asked. Sarah gave a mischievous grin. ¡°Lets pound out a few more of those and see if I can¡¯t get the next skill level by the end of the day.¡± She did, in fact, manage to do so, bringing Healer to level 30 and gaining a new skill for it. You have gained the class skill: Continued Care Continued Care (Uncommon Class Skill | Versatile) You have gained an insight into the echoes of your magic, allowing you to see what worked and what didn¡¯t. Each spell cast on a target increases the effectiveness of further spells by 5%. This effect can stack a number of times equal to the class that granted this skill¡¯s level. Stacks are lost when changing the target of your spellcasting, or after 1 minute with the target out of sight, whichever comes first. Sarah began to laugh. Then she took a deep breath, and laughed even harder. Dalia began to look concerned. ¡°Miss Sarah? Are you alright?¡± Sarah slapped her knee and fought to choke back the laughter. ¡°It works for the bones!¡± She cried, and though it seemed odd to Dalia at first, she soon pieced together what the hysterical woman was laughing about: Back before the Legion properly came into its own - a work in progress she nevertheless considered a done deal in her head - Sarah had created a spell with the help of the Court Wizard. An offensive spell. The new skill said nothing about her spells being of the Healing variety.
¡°Forward line, double advance, Rear line, double backstep, on my mark! Mark!¡± Jack shouted out. As one, the line of Legionnaires bashed forwards with their shields, pushing the four carp workers back, taking two steps and settling back into their shield wall. Behind them lay carcasses, and in front of them yet more. The second room had gone smoothly, slightly higher numbers than the first but on the same level of strength. The third had been more of the same, so Jack had pushed onwards to the fourth room, which was where things started getting tricky. None of the level 6¡¯s came, it was all the level 8¡¯s with a few scattered level 10¡¯s, and they just kept coming. It wasn¡¯t a horde by any means, but every few seconds another pair of carp workers drifted in from the tunnel at the other side of the cave, and for every two pairs that came from the front, a third came from behind them. Unfortunately for them, the time between new enemies appearing was shortening. Jack didn¡¯t know if it was true, but something inside him was screaming that the ants would come and come and come until they either left or made it through, so Jack would make it through. ¡°Tally, Cynthia! Get off the back line and grab any javelins we pass by. Front line, continued advance, rear follow with the backstep, on my Step!¡± ¡°Ha-oh!¡± The shout came back, and two Legionnaires split off from the rear line, making quick dashes off to the sides of the formation to pry javelins from the chitin of the defeated foe. ¡°Ready¡­ Step!¡± A crash of wood slamming against chitin, the chittering screeches of the carps, the grunts and shouts of his Legionnaires as they countered and attacked. The noise was overwhelming at first - by the third room he¡¯d learned to tune it out. Standing in the middle of the formation, Jack kept his own blade from the fight. This trip was to level up his squad, and if they all came out of this at level 15, he would be happy. That was the goal set by the Centurion, anyways. However, with only two Legionnaires remaining at the back, Jack knew he would have to step in if any more than two ants came from the back. One-on-one, his Legionnaires would have a hard time against a carp worker. Two on two, however, made short work of the creatures. He didn¡¯t want to see what it would look like in a three on two. ¡°Optio, we got a big¡¯un, and he brought friends!¡± Jack whirled about, seeing a larger, more dangerous looking carpenter ant emerge from the tunnel at the end of the cave. Giant Carpenter Ant Worker (Major) Level 13 True enough, 10 more carpenter ants came with, though thankfully only the level six variety. ¡°We have no javelins, which means we do this up close. Alpha Squad, reform into two ranks, prepare to push through!¡± The Legionnaires stood stalwart in the face of the horse-sized monster, and Jack let a genuine smile cross his face. These were hard men and women, and he was proud to lead them. Jack waited as the force approached, sparing a glance and thanking whoever was watching over them that their rear had seen no more attackers. Soon they were just ten meters away. ¡°Now! Split them in two!¡± With a roar, eight humans stood against the forces of the giant insects, fighting with shield and blade and roars of pain and effort. First, the escort ants crashed against the wall, and were rebuffed, one falling dead in the attempt but three more were wounded. Then, the giant one attempted to reach over the wall of shields, but thrusting swords forced it to recoil, chittering in pain. After that, the charge was slowed, and the Legionnaires got to their dirty work that they¡¯d been trained for: battling in a line. An escort fell with its mandibles clamped around a shield, a sword thrust from either side almost decapitating it. Another attempted to swing around the flank, but Numen deftly stepped out of the second rank and met the charge, fighting it one-on one. ¡°Rear line, refuse the flanks!¡± Jack shouted at his full volume, desperate to be heard over the crash of battle. Numen was quickly backed up by a partner, and the other two moved to the other flank, stepping away from battle and leaving the front rank with no backup save for Jack himself. In good time though, as the escorts swept out in a pincer attack only to be met with more painted shields and gleaming swords. Jack¡¯s eyes flew from side to side, doing his best to take in the battle as a whole, though it was truly more of a skirmish than a true battle. As the second and third escort ants fell, Jack saw an opportunity and went for it. ¡°Second rank, with me!¡± As the four fell in - and one of his soldiers arms hung limp, to his dismay, though his sword was still held tight - he jumped in place a couple times to build himself up. The flanking ants followed, and were soon outnumbered and defeated by his small group. To the front, the line held admirably. ¡°Make a hole!¡± Jack shouted out, charging forward at the center of the formation. Two went left, two went right, Jack crashed through the middle with his shield raised high and felt an impact, but he kept pushing. ¡°Push! Put them to the sword!¡± ¡°Ha-oh!¡± A vigorous yell, almost a cheer sounded in response, and then it was into the melee, soldiers following the path he¡¯d made and pushing outwards, separating the escort workers from the larger one. Jack, for his part, pushed and pushed, keeping the level 10 beast on the back feet until they were far and away from the escorts who were being defeated in detail. Until he could be backed up, Jack took the solo combat with the higher level monster, shield arm quaking under thunderous blows and tendons screaming as the ant tried to pry the defense from his arm. However, each blunt swing was met with the biting edge of gladius, each bite on his shield pushed back as Jack rammed the implement forwards. He fell into a combat haze, thrusts and dodges and parries falling automatically into place, until he was startled by a presence at his side. First Numen, then Tara and Jian, soon enough Jack was reinforced enough to spare a glance, and his heart beat with steady pride that all of his soldiers were standing. Not just standing, but at his side. Within the span of eight heartbeats, the creature died, and Alpha Squad let out a ragged, bloody cheer. Jack suppressed the urge to join them. ¡°Alright Alpha, that¡¯s it for today. You get 2 minutes to wrap it up, then we make for the exit, then the Fort. Keep it locked tight until we get back.¡± This fight could have gone either way, in Jack¡¯s recollection. If the enemy had lead their assault with the attempt at flanking, the ranks would not have been able to adjust in time. If that larger ant had been any stronger, it could have pushed through the first rank, tying up the second rank and also preventing the Squad from refusing the flank. There were a number of ways that final push could have gone wrong, and with each that reared its metaphorical head Jack found himself wincing. He would do better next time. In fact, so focussed was he on reviewing his performance and finding ways to better it, he was distracted. Alone, that wouldn¡¯t be a problem, but the rest of the squad was high off adrenaline, and talkative besides. This meant that nobody was looking out when they returned through the cleared parts of the dungeon, which was fine. It was when they proceeded through the gate into the forest clearing and found it full of Raccan skirmishers that Jack realized that he should save the recollection for back at the fort. 31. Retreat The sun rose over a cold dawn morning, and as George shivered he felt a brief pang of envy for his fluffy companion - Nimbus now sat as high as his thigh, becoming quite the large cat indeed. Now when he used trees for scratching posts, his claws left visible furrows in the bark. George, as he was wont to do, was perched in a tall tree just behind the treeline, looking over a narrow but deep section of the river. On the other side of the river, the Khanclave¡¯s camp was stirring, robed figures moving between tents and a small group moving with buckets towards the pasture that held over 70 horses. Checking against his prior notes, it seemed they had gained two more mounts overnight, which made it clear that something System-assisted was going on. Regardless, George settled in to watch, hoping that today would be another relaxing day for him, but within an hour he was proven wrong - three groups of five Riders each galloped out from the camp. One went north, though without crossing the river they would be unable to get close to Old Milltown or Comfy¡¯s Grove. One group went south, down the stream, and he mentally crossed that group off as well. To the south was unmapped, but George had a feeling that if he went far enough, he would find where the river emptied into a lake. Such explorations were best left to Ezekiel, now, assuming that he and Kyla made it back in one piece. The last group again made for the water, and with a quick spell from one of the five, the horses galloped across it. It was not something they could do often, George had noted, and not with any large quantity of horse, but it was still something that reduced the effectiveness of their natural defenses. Hell, Old Milltown didn¡¯t even have a wall on the riverside. ¡°Seems like we¡¯ve got five today.¡± George said idly. ¡°We¡¯ll follow and see how many of our traps work. Maybe we¡¯ll get a break.¡± Nimbus purred, the sound now more than audible compared to the faint noises he made when smaller. George scoffed. ¡°Well that¡¯s just pessimistic.¡± The Ranger was still unsure if he was just losing his mind, but from time to time, when Nimbus made noises or communicated he could swear he could understand him. Not like, ¡®a two second meow means that there¡¯s a fly in my hair¡¯ but more in the terms of general feelings and emotions. When he had purred, just then, George gathered a sense of mocking and exasperation - clearly his cat did not share his estimation of the traps working. Which is why the muffled curses through the underbrush were like music to his ears. ¡°Heh, told ya.¡± George quickly made his way through the branchways, and came across the Yellow Clearing. He had named his trapped points in a very rushed manner but the names had grown on him over time. The yellow clearing was named that because there were a few witch hazel bushes spread around the exterior of the clearing tucked just under the treeline, and their yellow flowers were the predominant colour to be seen here. In the middle of the clearing, however, was not the group of Riders trying to get one of their own out of the spiked pit, but an empty, pristine clearing. His instincts screamed just a moment too late, and even as George dodged nothing, an arrow shaft materialized into the tree he¡¯d been standing in. He twisted and contorted as he fell down to the next branch, but was still struck with two more arrows. One skimmed across his bicep, splitting skin. The other sunk into his shoulder, though his leather armour had prevented it from sinking deep enough to impact bone. ¡°We got him! Ride him down, don¡¯t let him get away!¡± Was what the lead Rider said, but all George heard was a guttural repetitive sound, and the chase was on. Nimbus, luckily, had better instincts than he, and had dodged just a split second before he had, going upwards and avoiding the worst of the volley. George snapped the arrow in his shoulder out with a hiss, dropping the crude shaft to the forest floor. Then he was dodging a moment before he realized that those five were not the full breadth of the trap. Riding out from the south were five more of the Riders, and he could hear more hoof-beats from the north. Cornered, with naught but the east to go, George didn¡¯t bother stringing his bow - this was a well-laid ambush, and he could not assume this was as far as their plan went. Though, would running be feeding into their assumptions, or would staying to fight? Without pausing too long, he darted back up the tree, now able to dodge the arrow shafts once he was aware of the shooters. In the back of his mind, he marvelled - he was dodging arrows while climbing a tree - yet the majority of his brain screamed with adrenaline and instinct. He harnessed his thoughts in favour of finding his next move. He needed to go somewhere - it wasn¡¯t impossible to lose the horses through the branchways, but in the same vein it wasn¡¯t impossible that they had a tracker. The Spinebear was still injured from when he last used it, and he was loathe to bring such a large band to its den. Even after his escape the bear had helped him against the Khanclave, so while it was not anything approaching an ally, George respected it all the same. He would never even consider bringing them to Comfy, as clear as it was that the spirit would be able to handle them all with ease. There was a certain quality to the nascent Kami that told him to be careful in all of his interactions. He followed Nimbus high up into the trees, then broke north. He would lose his pursuers, then head home. It¡¯d been quite some time since he¡¯d slept in a bed, and even longer since he¡¯d had the time to properly cook something. There was only so long that the freshly caught game tasted good. To him, it was getting bland. The time to properly make a stew, or hell even a pouch of salt would have made it all the more bearable, but- Another whistling arrow interrupted him from his thoughts of food and he focussed all of his mind on escaping, Nimbus at his heels. ¡°Mrrrow.¡± Nimbus mewed. ¡°Oh I see how it is. We gonna start with ¡®I told you so¡¯s, are we?¡± The cat leaped past him, flicking its tail against George¡¯s ear playfully. George smiled through the pain of the arrow wound, and put on an extra burst of speed. With the levels he¡¯d gained, he was but a shadowy blur shaking the crowns of trees that, unlike the time of his arrival, were beginning to show signs of autumn.
Old Mill Town, or Ol¡¯ Milltown as the people were starting to call it, was comparatively bustling. The walls still showed the occasional scorch marks, but the rest stood tall and pristine. The chugging of the mill for which the town was named underlay a symphony of calling voices, the thunking of hatchets into trees, and laughing conversation. It was a pleasant sensation, only furthered by entering the town. Farms worked outside the east wall, providing substance and trade to the town, while to the west a horde of fishermen pulled net after net of fish from the water. Near the north wall, a tall tower rocked precariously on lumber supports. As George approached the Southern Gate, he reckoned he must have looked a mess. He was looking forward to getting some rest. Which was why he was immediately put on guard when a pair of Legionnaires he didn¡¯t recognize made their presence known atop the closed gate. ¡°Halt! Identify yoursel-¡± ¡°Shut up, idiot! That¡¯s the Master Hunter!¡± The first Legionnaire, a pale man, seemed to go even paler. ¡°Open the gate! Now, damnit!¡± George shrugged. ¡°If it¡¯s a bother I can just¡­¡± With a single step to push himself up to speed, and the subsequent taptaptap of feet lightly rebounding off wood, George found himself atop the wall with the guards. No longer was it a rickety scaffolding, though. This was a proper walkway, held in place securely. He could see inside the small town, and balked at how different it was, compared to when he¡¯d left two weeks ago. His sharp eyes picked out scorch marks, and he quickly pieced together that the declaration of war had come in response to an attack. Convenient for him, though he hoped nobody had been seriously hurt in the fire. Then he began to pick out other, more subtle things. The way a couple walked towards the market in the centre of town, with a little girl holding what appeared to be her mothers hand. The way another couple sat on a bench - they had benches now? - gave him a sense that somehow, the people of Old Milltown were starting to relax and acclimate to the life they now lived. ¡°You could at least try not to look like a cat at the top of his tree.¡± George whirled around to see Kyla standing atop the wall. He shrugged. ¡°How do you mean?¡± The woman looked into his eyes as if searching for something, then leaned against the wall to look inwards. ¡°When we left, you were in quite a lot of danger. We were. Now you¡¯re back, looking whole and healthy, as if it¡¯s all beneath you. It¡¯s demoralizing.¡± George shrugged again. Then, after a moment, ¡°I¡¯m glad you guys made it home safe.¡± Kyla punched his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk.¡± ¡°Mrrow?¡± Kyla looked down, blinking. ¡°Well obviously I¡¯m glad you made it back Nimbus, I just had to tell George cause he isn¡¯t the brightest.¡± The Ranger bristled. ¡°I have a healthy INT of 44, thank you very much.¡± The Warrior laughed in response. ¡°Miriam¡¯s getting close to 250, and we aren¡¯t even at level 50 yet. I¡¯m thinking this System has high numbers for its scaling. I can only imagine what some higher tier people have for their stats. A thousand? Ten? What would that even look like?¡± ¡°Scary.¡± George replied immediately, thinking of his own prowess. ¡°Anyways, do we have anything stocked up I can cook or am I buying from the store?¡± Kyla raised an eyebrow. ¡°I suppose you wouldn¡¯t know. Well, come by the Clan House with me, Mitch wanted to see you when you got back. We¡¯ll get you some food and a bath.¡± George tentatively took a sniff at his armpit, then recoiled - when it was all he could smell it was noticeable, but against the backdrop of the villages admittedly pungent scent, he picked out his own rancid odour all too well. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the bath.¡±
As Kyla led the recently returned George down to the boarded off point of the river they were using for bathing, Miriam hummed and moved away from the window into the darkened room on the second floor of the recently built ¡®Mage¡¯s Tower¡¯, the one she¡¯d taken over as her study until they could get her a proper, Systemized tower built. It had a nice view of the south gate and the village square, but more importantly it was hers. Heading down, she saw both of her new hires, a pair of single-class immigrants who nevertheless had managed to unlock some degree of magical class. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Miriam still had a hard time with that. Jack had two classes. Aleks did as well. Yet, most of the people coming only had the one, or none even. She didn¡¯t know what separated her and her friends from the rest of them, but it was uncomfortable to interact with the single-classed without feeling privileged. She¡¯d started a journal about it to condense her research in, but all she had right now was a line on the first page reading: ¡°On the topic of single-class and double-class individuals, information is scarce.¡± It was a work in progress, okay? Either way, she was growing used to the disparity. Not necessarily enjoying it, but finding herself thinking about the expanded breadth of the differences. For example, her acolytes - Apprentices? Minions? - were both single-classed, but because of that their Race level went up in tandem with their class level, whereas her Race level was an averaged score. It also meant they would be twice as fast to level, possibly even reaching E-Rank before she did. She would just be stronger when she eventually got there. Aleisha, a short blonde woman just past her teens, had been the first. She had bright eyes, but was not prone to talking much, which Miriam approved of. It had taken her a day with the Wand to get her class, though it was not Arcane Acolyte, but a Wandslinger. Her talents lay in the creation and usage of wands, and true to form she could draw a wand almost faster than Miriam could blink. Her other apprentice was more of a traditional mage, having gained an Aquamancy Acolyte class. It had taken him three days of shooting the wand at the river, but the tanned man¡¯s long blonde hair and toned body fit with his self-professed ¡®surfer vibes¡¯ and it hadn¡¯t hardly seemed like work to him. His name was Collard. She left the Tower and her acquaintances behind, heading down to the Clan House. Mitchell had taken a spare bedroom for his own and converted it into his office, though typically there was one of either him, Kyla, or Dalton in there, or any combination of the three. It wasn¡¯t much of an office, just a dining table acting as a desk, and one of the benches from the main area had been brought up until he could convince John to make some proper furniture. It was understandably a low priority. Currently, it was Dalton and Mitchell inside, poring over a map that was much more filled than when last she¡¯d seen it. She quickly pieced together that some System works were at play, as the map had expanded far to the south where it would appear George had located the Khanclave¡¯s settlement. To the northeast was the path to the Legion¡¯s camp, then further past that was the Burning Building Dungeon - which she¡¯d gotten a great laugh out of explaining to the others - the combination fire ant and carpenter ant dungeon was aptly named. Then a newer development, courtesy of the Legion¡¯s scouts: A full days march to the East from the dungeon was the primary Raccan war camp. She¡¯d hoped that the siege would have been it, but the Legionnaires had begun facing scouts in their marches to and from the dungeon. The skirmishers were easy prey to the practiced blades of the Legionnaires, but it still prevented a measure of peace. John had declared the First Century complete, and they¡¯d started on the Second, but John refused to vacate the camp until he had at least enough set up to continue the training. A half-century would be able to hold the fort, so he was training the first half of the Second to do just that before reporting to the town. The estimation was it would only be one more day. To the south, a place called Comfy¡¯s Grove had occupied the map, along with another marker twice as far away that just said ¡®Spinebear¡¯. Directly across the small winding blue ribbon of a river was a red X that read ¡®Khanclave¡¯. ¡°About 3 days of journeying if we don¡¯t push them too hard, I reckon.¡± Dalton was saying when she approached, and from context she quickly pieced together he was talking about the marching speed of the Legion. She made a mental note to consider enchantments that might increase that rate of travel. ¡°That¡¯s a long time for us to be defenseless.¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°Three there, one for the battle, three back¡­ if we send the Legion down there, we¡¯re looking at a week minimum until they¡¯re back.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not too bad-¡± Dalton tried. Mitchell slammed a hand down on the table. ¡°Our foe has cavalry Dalton. The second our men leave, they¡¯ll be beset by an army in the worst possible position. If they linger, the town is lost. If they rush, they¡¯re exhausted for their own fight.¡± ¡°True, so why not split them-¡± Mitchell sighed again. ¡°Because then we will be defeated in detail. As things go now, I don¡¯t see how we can win a war against the Khanclave.¡± ¡°Then don¡¯t?¡± Miriam suggested, making her presence known. The two men jumped in surprise, but quickly relaxed when they saw it was her. ¡°So, what, we just surrender?¡± Mitchell asked incredulously. ¡°Hope that they¡¯ll accept us into their faction instead of killing us for the experience?¡± Miriam rolled her eyes. ¡°No, just don¡¯t try to win. Keep the town defended, fight off attacks, focus elsewhere. John found a suitable quarry location up near his fort, which would let us upgrade our walls to stone - no number of horses would let them get through that. We also have the dungeon and the Raccans to deal with. Focus on what we can solve.¡± Mitchell hummed in thought. ¡°We would need some way to stop any parties from approaching so we don¡¯t get sabotaged again.¡± ¡°Then have John set up a second camp in the road! There¡¯s no limit on how many he can have, right?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t just keep throwing it all at him.¡± Mitchell stressed. ¡°The man is training an army. He needs the space to do that. However¡­ Dalton, could you head down to the barracks and see if anyone wants to trade posts? I have a message to send.¡± Dalton straightened and nodded. ¡°Certainly, Patriarch.¡± The man quickly left the darker room, leaving the two alone. They stared at each other for a moment, Mitchell¡¯s dark blue eyes piercing into her own brown. ¡°Sarah won¡¯t be happy you¡¯re moving him again.¡± Miriam guessed, and a flicker of frustration passed over his features before he took a measured breath. ¡°Sarah isn¡¯t happy period.¡± Mitchell spat out. Miriam frowned. ¡°Well that¡¯s not exactly fair of you.¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not a problem that¡¯s mine to deal with.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re the head of the Clan. We¡¯re all your problem to deal with.¡± He let out a ragged laugh. ¡°Really? Is that what¡¯s been circulating? Because if I go out there and make the announcement that the Patriarch is above even the Core members and shouldn¡¯t be disturbed by interpersonal drama, that¡¯s exactly what the hundreds of people I¡¯m responsible for would do. Hell, if I made begging illegal, all our citizens are loyal enough to just starve to death. So really, I decide what¡¯s my problem to deal with.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s a shitty take.¡± Miriam immediately accused. ¡°Next, you¡¯ll say that since you could just say the Patriarch should have a harem and you¡¯d get one, I should bow and scrape to prevent it?¡± Mitchell¡¯s eyes flew wide in a panic, cutting through his acidic attitude. ¡°No! I would never! I mean yes, I could declare the Patriarch to be entitled to a harem, but why?!¡± ¡°Same reason you¡¯d order them to starve or to not bother you.¡± Miriam remained calm. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t do- oh you¡¯re clever.¡± Miriam smiled. ¡°I have my moments. Back to the point, though - just send Sarah with him. We have enough trained Legionnaires to cover the town now, so there¡¯s no reason she should stick around.¡± Mitchell hummed, eyes flicking over the map. ¡°There¡¯s a valley here on the map, we could place the base in between the cliffs, hold the entire valley against hostile movements? The distance would be roughly the same as his first fort, so travel within a day would be possible.¡± ¡°If that valley weren¡¯t absolutely terrible, you¡¯d have a good idea there.¡± A familiar voice cut in, and Mitchell¡¯s head snapped to the room¡¯s entrance, and to his absent friend. ¡°George!¡± He exclaimed, devouring the ground between them with long strides and standing before the Ranger. The Page looked him from top to bottom, noting the damaged furs and dirty clothes. ¡°You¡¯re back.¡± He nodded. ¡°Yep. Anywho, that valley is shit. Like four Spinebear dens, the hills to either side aren¡¯t stable, and you¡¯ll get flooded out during the first big rain. Now, if they wanted to go atop this ridge, there¡¯s maybe 4 or 5 inches of soil before it gets right to rock. Ain¡¯t nobody tunneling under. ¡®Sides, we need stone, right?¡± Mitchell nodded, the map detailing itself as per George¡¯s description. This must be Mitchell¡¯s Clan Map. ¡°Alright. When John gets back fro-¡± ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± The man called cheerily from the doorway. ¡°Quick report: First Century is fully trained and ready for action. Second Century is filling up nicely, give it three more days at current immigration rates and we¡¯ll be set. The First is camped just outside the northern gate, ready to head to the front lines.¡± George chuckled awkwardly. ¡°We don¡¯t have front lines¡­¡± Mitchell watched in something adjacent to awe - he wasn¡¯t expecting people to return so soon, yet here they were, unchanged and unharmed, picking it all back up like John hadn¡¯t just spent two weeks training an army, or George hadn¡¯t spent the same time living off the land and fighting a horde on his own. Compared to their accomplishments, he¡¯d just clicked a couple of buttons and chatted with some folks. Hell even Miriam was making leaps forward in both enchanting and her spellcraft while Sarah trained more healers to help her. The original plan was to have them assigned to the Legion, but Sarah had grown protective of her small group and had decided she was starting her own little organization of healers and adjacent classes, who met at a hastily named House of Healing. She would lend some to the Legion as needed, but she stressed it was more important to have regular care for the resident members of the clan first. Everyone was pushing forwards, applying their knowledge and classes to bring them all forward, and the Patriarch allowed a smile to grace his face. This. If he could go back and change the culture of the town, he would just point at this moment and say ¡°This¡±. Each member providing what they could. Each uplifting the others. Each having proven their ability and willingness to sacrifice for the Clan, to ensure our safety, security, and prosperity. Each looking to him for overall direction. He caught himself on the last part. It wasn¡¯t necessary that it was him in charge, so long as he could still be a part of it all. Even as Miriam laughed and smiled, as she took George¡¯s arm to show him his present and looked back with an eye to see if he was coming, Mitchell shook his head, wanting to give his own vow the weight it deserved. He was well aware that a small voice in the back of his head screamed he was being a melodramatic knob. However, it was the first of his Vows, and it resonated with his Tenets, even if he was not aware of what he had done and the true power of his Class. Truly, even Miriam let it go when she could see the faintest shimmer of System-blue deep in Mitchell¡¯s eyes. This decision would carry long into the future, and be joined by other, more informed and momentous decisions, but this one Vow was the basis of who Mitchell would become: He would not allow their faith - both in himself and in the Clan they were building - to be misplaced.
Deep in the dense, shadowy forests to the northeast of Old Mill Town, a squad of freshly spawned legionnaires marched briskly along a well-worn trail. Their armor clinked rhythmically with each step, and their boisterous voices carried through the trees as they sang a marching song. The melody, though somewhat rough and off-key, reverberated through the ancient woodland, lending a brief air of life and camaraderie to the otherwise quiet and brooding surroundings. Spirits were high; this was the beginning of their training, and they carried with them the naive confidence of those who had yet to face true battle. Above them, concealed within the sprawling canopy of leaves and branches, danger lurked unseen. Eight Raccan Brutes, massive and sinewy creatures with fur mottled to blend seamlessly with the forest¡¯s hues, hung poised like silent predators. Their claws gripped the branches effortlessly, and their breath was a mere whisper against the rustle of the wind. Sharp, intelligent eyes tracked the squad¡¯s every move, and their tense muscles quivered with anticipation. Without warning, the Brutes dropped from the branches like shadows given weight and form. Their hulking frames hit the ground with sickening force, crushing some of the legionnaires instantly under their bulk. The remaining soldiers had no chance to react; claws and fangs tore through flesh and armor with horrifying ease. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, staining the moss and dirt, but the attack was so swift and precise that hardly a cry escaped the ambushed men. The trees seemed to hold their breath, muting the violence, as if the forest itself conspired in this deadly act. The Brutes worked with unnerving efficiency, dragging the broken bodies into the thick underbrush. There, hidden from prying eyes, the forest¡¯s tranquility was overtaken by the grisly sounds of snapping bones, tearing flesh, and gnashing teeth. The once-lively trail was now eerily silent, save for the macabre feast taking place just out of sight. A few stray pieces of equipment¡ªa helmet, a shattered sword¡ªlay abandoned on the path, silent witnesses to the carnage. At the edge of the clearing, a Raccan Shaman emerged from his concealment, his gnarled staff in hand. As he stepped forward, his previously cloaked form shimmered into visibility, revealing a creature adorned with bones and feathers, his eyes glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The Shaman began a low, guttural chant, scattering handfuls of ash from a pouch at his side. The blood-soaked soil seemed to drink in the ashes greedily, and as the ritual took hold, the surrounding flora responded. Leaves unfurled with newfound vitality, roots thickened and burrowed deeper, and even the moss seemed to gleam with a vibrant green hue. The lifeblood of the fallen had not been wasted¡ªit had been absorbed into the forest, feeding it and strengthening its guardians. Once the ritual was complete, the Brutes meticulously buried the remains of their victims¡ªthe shattered bones, the scraps of flesh they had no use for¡ªensuring that no trace of the ambush remained. Satisfied, they scampered back up into the trees, their massive forms moving with an unnatural grace. Soon, they were nothing more than silhouettes against the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the canopy, their watchful eyes resuming their patient vigil. From start to finish, the entire ordeal had taken no more than seven minutes. Eight legionnaires, armed and armored, had been slaughtered without so much as a warning. They had died swiftly, without ever knowing how or why. The forest, now eerily calm once again, swallowed their passing like a stone disappearing into a dark, still lake. 32. Recently Renovated ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have.¡± George had to duck to avoid the variety of things that had been thrown his way. Sitting around a long table were himself and his friends - Kyla to his right, John to the left, then the rest of the table filled out with everyone else: Mitchell, Sarah, Miriam, Ezekiel, Dalton, Tommen, even Aleks. He¡¯d have invited Jack, but the man was too busy training the Second Century up north. The reason he¡¯d said what he¡¯d said was because while he was gone, the loveable assholes had went and procured him a proper kitchen. Not quite a modern one, but there was cookware, pots and pans, and even spices! A wood oven, an open firepit with a spit cleverly built in, and a set of knives along with plenty of ladles, grates, presses, and other assorted kitchen tools. Then Miriam revealed that she¡¯d enchanted them all to clean themselves at midnight, and that the enchantment would last about 5 years. John revealed that he¡¯d spent a fair amount of the legions budget on the cookware - it was a two for one deal and he needed quality cookware for on the march, as well. Sarah explained how she¡¯d gathered local ingredients based off of the alchemical tests the scouting team had done, and Dalton wrapped it all up with the oh-so-juicy information that yes, foods at higher grades often gave similar effects as potions, though less concentrated and longer lasting. So, George had cooked. He was in a kitchen, Nimbus darting in between his legs as he walked but his stats were more than high enough to just step around the cat. He quickly decided not to use anything extra from the System Store, and the thought of the challenge excited him. Luckily, the pantry area was fairly cold, and their resident Enchantress was forced to put her book away when she immediately started trying to figure out a refrigeration enchantment. The Cook pulled out mushrooms, herbs, berries, nuts, and a plethora of other local ingredients. After a quick moment of planning, he began. The mushrooms were easy to process with a pair of cooking cantrips, the dirty caps being cleaned and sliced evenly in seconds - though not until after George had physically touched them and increased their quality by a step. The resulting product looked better than what you would buy at a grocery store. Another cooking cantrip saw him with a cast iron pan in his hand - the cookware here was nice, but it was mostly modern pots and pans. While he did have a use for it, it just wasn¡¯t what he wanted to use for a saute. Then he hit a roadblock. No butter. No oils. How would he sautee the wild mushrooms? He frowned at his pan, before shrugging and tossing the ingredients in. He lit a small fire in the woodstove to get it started, then filled and placed a large metal pot - one that had been purchased from Tommen - atop the stove to begin heating while he worked. The clean river water within was freshly gathered and poured through a primitive filtration device that had been set up by Sarah. It wasn¡¯t like they could get sick or infected anymore, but the taste of the riverwater was ¡®dank¡¯ as she had put it, and she didn¡¯t want to use dank water for medical purposes. So, clean water into the pot. He used another cantrip to clean up some herbs before placing them in the mushroom pan, and the whole thing over heat as well. The sizzling of the fungus quickly grew loud and wisps of steam scented with wild garlic and dandelion greens scattered into the air. With a quick sniff, George gathered a pair of plantain leaves and tossed them in as well, the herb working quickly to harmonize the flavours. As he sauteed, the water came to a boil, and luckily the mushrooms had enough moisture that nothing stuck to the pan. He poured the whole mixture in, put the lid on, and left his wild mushroom soup to simmer. Next was a flurry of cantrips that saw him before a large bowl of berry and nut salad. He tossed a few spare garlic leaves in as well. That would come after the soup, help refresh the palate after the mushroom soup. Then he began his main course. Trout from the river, caught this morning. Cattails from the same river, also foraged this morning. He steamed the shoots quickly, then summoned a sharp knife and got the delicate work of slicing them into sheets by rolling the shoots through his hand like a pencil in a sharpener. With his sheets done, he used cantrips to skin and clean the trout, then delicately wrapped the fish filets in the cattails shoots before bringing them outside on a tray. By the river, a small clay pit had been mostly extracted some, but he was still able to gather some of the cool substance and coat the wrapped fish in it. When he returned to the small building - and really, what kind of restaurant has equal cooking and seating space? - he immediately placed the clay vessels in the firepit, his Class giving him an instinctive knack for telling when the meal would be done. With that done, he took a quick taste of the mushroom soup, decreed it delicious, and began to serve his friends.
¡°Oh my god.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you mean ¡®by all the gods that do or-¡± ¡°I have one god right now and his name is George. Anything else is lies and slander.¡± Mitchell retorted, to the chuckles of the original founders. George himself was seated at the head of the table, looking almost as smug as Nimbus did on a daily basis, and he had good cause. The group had gone for seconds, then thirds, then John and Mitchell had had to arm wrestle over the last piece of fish, but Mitchell had lost. Then George brought out the second batch of fish, and finally - with bowls, plates, and silverware licked clean - they¡¯d finished, though George had pair of extra, smaller plates off to the side that he could catch the others eyeing, but were too polite to ask about. Sarah wasn¡¯t. ¡°Well, your holiness, what are the extras for?¡± George smiled sheepishly. ¡°I uh¡­ well I made a friend and I want to bring her some food. The other one¡¯s for Nimbus, but he was being bothersome while I cooked so he¡¯s got to wait for later.¡± The cat in question pawed at the Ranger¡¯s leg, eyes wide. George laughed. ¡°A little too big for that one now, buddy. Soon.¡± He turned back to the rest of them. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna pop back down there for a few minutes, check in, say hi, and make sure the Khanclave didn¡¯t fuck with what wasn¡¯t theirs.¡± His voice gained an edge of venom that cut through the jubilant mood in the room, and soon the atmosphere had gone from content to disturbed. ¡°What kind of friend?¡± Kyla asked innocently, though her eyes were fixed on the Ranger with intensity. ¡°The kind that could probably kill me pretty easy but chose not to. I can¡¯t say more.¡± ¡°So it has nothing to do with the one named place other than the Khanclave that we have on our map? Comfy¡¯s Grove, I believe it was called.¡± Kyla challenged. George frowned and met her stare. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Why what?¡± ¡°Why do you care? I won¡¯t be long.¡± Kyla huffed and stood from her seat. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you, then. Not leaving you down there alone again.¡± George bit back a retort. That was actually pretty thoughtful of her. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t talk to her unless she talks to you first - she¡¯s a bit on the¡­ primal side of things? It¡¯s hard to describe.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be as your shadow, then.¡± Kyla responded confidently. ¡°Can somebody please explain what¡¯s going on?¡± John pleaded. ¡°I mean, obviously I understand, but for Sarah!¡± The woman in question was leaning back in her chair with a contented smile on her face and hands laced over her stomach. Her eyes pried themselves open at her name being mentioned. ¡°Hm? Oh, yes dear. So concerned. So confused.¡± George looked back at John funny. ¡°Just off to repay some kindness is all.¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I got that, but what do you mean you won¡¯t be long, that''s a day¡¯s journey at least!¡± ¡°Closer to six or seven hours to me.¡± George answered quickly and easily. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to wa- actually¡­ You guys want to see something cool?¡± The Ranger led them north out of the town, along the path to the Legion Camp, then turned off to the side to follow the river. Soon, they were among the trees of the forest, which John was looking at as if offended they dared grow so close to the walls. He led them along the curving length of water until they reached a bend, a bend upon which an elderly willow trees roots sunk deep and its boughs spread wide. ¡°This tree.¡± George said confidently. ¡°This tree is significant. Its roots drank of blood, and its leaves of peace. It is what holds this land from being swept away by the current. This willow protects from sun and wind and rain and time.¡± The Ranger stepped forwards and placed his hand against the tree, closing his eyes. ¡°I see you, great willow. I thank you for your bounty, and present to you my own.¡± His face screwed up, and though it was not prevalent enough to see in the light, Mitchell¡¯s eyes locked into the connection between palm and bark where he could swear he had seen a brief, light blue glow. George swept his palm to the side and like the parting of a curtain, the bark of the trunk moved aside as well, revealing a tunnel that lead much further into the tree than the willow was thick. After a couple of feet, the tunnel faded into pitch black darkness. George looked back on the rest of them with a grin. ¡°This is Treestrider, a skill I got for talking with a forest spirit for an entire evening. It lets me connect trees together, or something like that, if they¡¯re significant enough. I don¡¯t know this one¡¯s precise story, but I can just kind of¡­ feel, when a tree fits the criteria. Anyways, the spirit seems to like Nimbus and I, and is both unimaginably ancient and like a child with her understanding of the world. Yes, her name is Comfy, and yes, she has a grove where I stayed while I was down there. That¡¯s where this mighty tree will take us to.¡± ¡°Hold up, we can all go?¡± Miriam asked. ¡°Is it a flat cost skill? What¡¯s the range limit?¡± ¡°Uhh¡­¡± George¡¯s expression faltered for a moment. ¡°No. I don¡¯t have the MP for that. I can take two, maybe three others if I time it right. So this run is just gonna be me, Nimbus and Kyla. Again, not gonna be gone long.¡± Both Mitchell and John¡¯s growing pleasure was dashed at the revealed limitation. John was thinking of dropping an entire Legion out of a tree. Mitchell was thinking that it would make it possible for their own Core group to act as reinforcements in any nearby battle. Neither would work with the skill as it was. Soon, George, Nimbus, and Kyla stepped into the wooden tunnel - the latter with no small amount of trepidation - and George let the bark slide closed like a curtain behind them. Miriam blinked. ¡°Huh. I¡¯m a mage, but that seemed like the most overtly magical thing I¡¯ve seen so far.¡± She blinked again when she realized everyone was staring at her. ¡°What? Did I say something weird?¡± ¡°Unflammable wood-¡± ¡°-oating lightning bolts!-¡± ¡°Human firework displ-¡± John, Sarah, and Mitchell all stopped speaking over each other to share a glance. Her words were absurd. She was literally inventing new spells on the daily. ¡°Okay, fine.¡± Miriam replied, crossing her arms. ¡°I do some pretty cool stuff. But teleporting between trees? That¡¯s on a different level. If you understood Arcana you¡¯d get that. Enchanting all of the Legion¡¯s new gear? Simple. Elementary, even. Connecting trees based on their metaphysical and pseudo-narrative importance? Weaving them together into a path? That¡¯s absolutely nuts. I wouldn¡¯t even know where to start making that spell.¡± ¡°E-Grade for nature aspect, C or D for the metaphysical, A or higher for the interaction with narrative.¡± Dalton breathed with unfocused eyes. ¡°Absolutely incredible. You get movement skills, all classes do, but nothing like that. Not at F-grade. I wonder if he needs to have seen the destination tree? Do they need to be on the same world? Is that tunnel a separate dimension and if so, how does he create it with a semi-mage¡¯s worth of MP? I have so many questions!¡±
After George had returned with a shellshocked Kyla in tow, they had finally debriefed and had a proper gathering on what their next steps would be. ¡°We upgraded to level four. The town, that is.¡± Mitchell revealed. ¡°I¡¯m sure you saw the new Mage¡¯s Tower, but our Farms have become more efficient, and our Markets can gather goods from further away. Yes, the Markets are limited by distance from the merchants, though for our purposes it doesn¡¯t really matter - only some people have the license to sell to Tutorials, and even then they are heavily regulated in what they can put up for sale to us. Dalton gave Tommen a list of the best stuff, and with our farms outputting more per day, we¡¯re keeping up with the dropping veggie prices. Houses can hold more people, a slight boost to immigration experience, and a whole bunch of new buildings available to build. Included on the list is a proper Granary, which can hold us for a year in event of a siege.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°The new buildings need stone, though, so we aren¡¯t worrying about them yet. Nothing on that list we can¡¯t do the hard way, anyways.¡± Dalton explained. ¡°Right. Now, Dalton was able to use his System connection to reach out to his family - at no small personal expense of his own - and learn some important information for us. First, the Centurion class is part of the ¡®Greatest Warrior¡¯ Initiation Protocol. The System goes back through a planet''s history and uses its own judgement to declare a culture to be above the rest, then adds that new class to the available pool. On his own planet, they had gotten the Winged Knight class line, starting from Page all the way at F grade, to squire at E, Green Knight at D, Yellow at C, Red at B, then finally a Winged Knight Paragon at A. It was a historical order of great-hawk and griffin riders, though of course the abilities were exaggerated for the class.¡± ¡°So? That seems more like you, Page.¡± Mitchell gave a faint smile at Ezekiel¡¯s comment. ¡°Mine is also a Greatest Warrior class, though an older one from a planet that unfortunately was destroyed shortly after their own tutorial. After our tutorial, Centurion will be added to the universal pool of classes.¡± ¡°I mean, the history is nice, but is there anything useful in there for us?¡± Sarah asked, confused. ¡°Most definitely.¡± Dalton responded. ¡°Firstly, his is not the first class to make outposts - the common theme is for your ability to evolve into permanent structures at D grade. Neither is your ability to gather and marshal your troops, for there are at least 7 different military leader type class lines that I know of for Humans alone. However you seem to be the first to have both, and at such early levels.¡± John frowned. ¡°Okkaaay, so what does that mean?¡± Mitchell took over. ¡°It means, my friend, that you are going to be our cornerstone. With your skills and abilities, coupled with the unique class, you have unparalleled force projection capabilities. There hasn¡¯t been a single attack or incident on the road between your fort and here - according to Dalton, that¡¯s almost unprecedented for any sort of tutorial with mobs in it.¡± ¡°Almost?¡± ¡°Kirth - the planet Initialized three planets before mine - had a necromancer who lined every road in his kingdom with skeletal guards who dragged any unauthorized travellers back to his castle, where they got turned into more guards. It was technically safe travel for the authorized.¡± John¡¯s face paled. ¡°I just run patrols. It¡¯s good for the lines to stretch their legs.¡± ¡°Exactly! Patrols are something recognized by the System, though. You are uniquely positioned to create a new patrol base, man it with soldiers, and send them out on the roads. Safe roads are essential to local trade, and without local trade you won¡¯t even be able to afford post-tutorial prices for local grain-loafs!¡± ¡°Bread, Dalton.¡± Mitchell said idly. ¡°Pardon. Bread. Still, the road-watchers on my planet are paid exorbitant amounts. Most of them are Winged Knights or SkyShapers, and they never ask for more than they need, but there¡¯s a tradition of sending them gifts at Year¡¯s End Festival, and if they like your gift, your roads will be safer that year.¡± John frowned. ¡°So¡­¡± Miriam sighed. ¡°John, they¡¯re saying you can make roads, and whoever has safe roads wins. Right?¡± Dalton frowned. ¡°I suppose it could be boiled down to that, yes. But-¡± John nodded. ¡°Then I¡¯ll make roads. First camp is getting crowded anyways, so I ca-¡± The peaceful bubbling of the river by the willow was interrupted suddenly by the crashing of a pale-faced Legionnaire bulling his way through the bushes. ¡°Centurion! Centurion!¡± John schooled his features into a stern mask. ¡°Legionnaire! Report.¡± ¡°Sir! The Northern Camp is under attack! It¡¯s the Raccans, sir!¡± John¡¯s face paled. ¡°Mitchell, I have to g-¡± The man¡¯s face was livid, and the fury John saw was enough to halt his own words. ¡°The Raccans are back? Kyla, get Dalton back to the town then get Aleks to muster everyone we can. Put the guard on high alert. Everyone else, let¡¯s go. We have a march in front of us if we want to get there with any sort of speed.¡± George shook his head. ¡°Nah, you guys get ready, gather gear, then come back here. I¡¯ll head up to the camp and locate a tree I can use, then I can shuttle you all up there. Shouldn¡¯t take me too long through the branchways, and you¡¯ll be able to fight better if you aren¡¯t tired.¡± A hand clapped down on Mitchell¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Besides. You aren¡¯t going anywhere.¡± John declared. Mitchell whirled about, knocking the hand free. ¡°John, they¡¯re attacking our people. You want me to sit around and do nothing? Fat fucking chance.¡± ¡°Sit around and do nothing, no. I want you to shore this place up. We can survive losing a camp. Hell, we could survive losing a Century. What we couldn¡¯t survive is losing Old Mill Town. The Clan and the Town are one and the same. You think the Legion would still exist without a town to be garrisoned at?¡± John explained. ¡°You leave it to me. Me and the First will beat the Raccans down so hard their offspring will be wincing away from us in thirty generations. Just make sure my boys have somewhere to come home to.¡± ¡°What if there¡¯s commandos? You guys can¡¯t handle-¡± John barked a laugh. Then he thought longer, and laughed some more. ¡°Mitchell, we were around level what, ten when we fought off the first wave of the siege? Not a single member of the First Century is beneath 15, and there¡¯s a hundred of us. Trust me - we can handle this. I¡¯d be surprised if there was anything left to fight. Legionnaire!¡± He said without breaking Mitchell¡¯s gaze. ¡°Report on the situation as it was when you departed.¡± The soldier shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir. As soon as the Raccan forces were spotted, Optio Jack sent out a trio of runners. I lost the others in an ambush but last I saw they had broken through and were headed back to the camp.¡± ¡°Estimates on enemy forces?¡± The soldier ceased shifting. ¡°We don¡¯t know sir. Optio Jack estimated roughly 100, but there were signs of more behind the treeline. Mostly skirmishers, though there were some brutes and shamans spotted in the mix. No commandos.¡± ¡°The commandos wouldn¡¯t be seen easily.¡± John replied. ¡°We can¡¯t count them out. What¡¯s your name, Legionnaire?¡± ¡°Caleb, sir. Legionnaire Caleb, seventh line, First Century.¡± Caleb replied, crashing his right fist to his chest in what was quickly becoming the legion¡¯s official salute. ¡°Legionnaire Caleb, you have performed your duties admirably. Rest in Old Mill Town for the day, and be ready to head back in the morning. You are dismissed.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± Caleb answered, posture full of pride, before turning and walking off with clear exhaustion to his gait. Sarah hummed. ¡°Must have been quite the trek solo.¡± ¡°I told you. The Legion is tougher than you think we are.¡± John said flatly. ¡°Oh don¡¯t be like that honey.¡± Sarah chided warmly. ¡°We aren¡¯t worried about how tough you are. We¡¯re worried for the same reason I worry about you - anything can happen out there. I wouldn¡¯t want to pick a fight with any of you, that¡¯s for sure.¡± John sighed. ¡°I know, I know. It just feels like we haven¡¯t been doing well. We need a win, and this is a fight we can take on. The Legion is meant to be our military force. We need to have confidence in them.¡± ¡°We do.¡± Mitchell said with finality. ¡°Well, actually¡­¡± Dalton said softly, gaining the attention of everyone present. On seeing this, he cleared his throat and continued. ¡°Well, normally a Settlement with an attached military would be gaining bonuses, which your town is not. I have to assume that¡¯s because your military hasn''t performed any operations since your Blooding quest, so this would actually be a boon for the town itself if John were to command the military without other intervention.¡± John gave a loaded grin. ¡°Well, seems like Mitchell can¡¯t come anyways. Sounds like George can¡¯t fight with us either. Would you mind bringing Caleb back in the morning, buddy? Saves him the six hours.¡± George shrugged. ¡°Sure, one person isn¡¯t too bad. I can do¡­ six tree jumps before I need to wait for more MP?¡± Miriam coughed. ¡°I¡¯m working on something for that.¡± Sarah turned to her and raised an eyebrow. ¡°So am I, though I should have my first batch ready by tomorrow afternoon.¡± Miriam shrugged. ¡°Saves me the trouble. I was having issues with the enchanting aspect anyways.¡± ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t help but be curious - what else are you working on?¡± Mitchell hummed in agreement. ¡°Actually, yes, before we all split up again, mind running us through what you¡¯ve accomplished since the fire?¡± Miriam positively beamed. ¡°About time! As you all know, I discovered Fire Bolt as an offensive spell, as well as other basic elemental variations on the bolt. I figured out Calm Emotions, which I¡¯m unsure of the combat applications but I¡¯m working on an inverted general fear spell that should be much more applicable. I have Lightning Totem and Chain Lightning for my bigger, more costly spells, and Lightning Bolt is low enough cost to be my go-to spell. I regen MP quickly. I also made Mind Bolt, which should¡­ I don¡¯t really know. It just says it does mental damage. As for enchanting, I have my Durability enchantment, then my two-part combo of Charged Resistance - that¡¯s what I used to help with the fire. Plant a Charged Resistance enchantment on anything, drop a bolt spell into it, and the object will resist that type of bolt. We have it on all the walls, set to fire right now. Some minor enchantments for armour and weapons to increase durability. Oh, I also figured out an enchantment that changes glass colour in response to the pitch of a note? That one was accidental, I was trying to fix something one of my apprentices made and- It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± WIth an apologetic look, she nodded once more. ¡°Still not ready on the regeneration spell or the earthquake though.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Single target, AOE, support, and utility. Very nice, Miri. How are the apprentices doing?¡± Miriam¡®s face almost flickered into a frown. ¡°Fine. They aren¡¯t exactly the smartest of all of the people I¡¯ve ever met - because that is empirically myself - but they have some insights I don¡¯t consider which helps me with my research.¡± ¡°I¡¯m more asking if we can spare you from Old Mill Town to accompany John up to the camp. Your magic wa-¡± ¡°Outpost.¡± John said idly. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an outpost. You can¡¯t call a structure with walls a camp anymore. The Romans may have used such structures as temporary camps, but they wouldn¡¯t often take them down unless there was a chance of the location being taken by an enemy. With ours planned to be permanently manned, I want to call it an outpost.¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°Sure. Anyways, can you go help-¡± ¡°No.¡± John interrupted again. ¡°It¡¯s like you weren¡¯t listening to me. The Legion has this covered. Stop trying to waste resources to make yourself feel better. We don¡¯t need Miriam. We don¡¯t need you. We don¡¯t need anything. I, however, do need a lift, so if you guys would clear off, I¡¯m going to be ready for when George gets back.¡± A glance around from everyone had them noticing that the Ranger had already gone. ¡°Alright.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°No help. We¡¯ll take care of the Khanclave while you¡¯re off doing that.¡± ¡°You better not.¡± John smiled, reaching an arm out. ¡°The Second Century is going to need something to cut their teeth on.¡± Mitchell grasped the Centurion¡¯s arm with his own, chuckling lightly. ¡°I have a feeling that we¡¯ll be facing plenty of enemies. There will be no shortage of targets. Now, best of luck my friend.¡± John nodded, his mood suddenly solemn. ¡°You too, friend. See you on the other side?¡± ¡°Always.¡± Mitchell replied easily, finding that he meant it. Whatever John went through, Mitchell would be there, waiting to help him piece it all back together and get back to it, just as he knew John would do the same for him. With what was just said, Mitchell found that it would dilute the meaning of the shared words to stay any longer, so he turned on his heel and began walking back to town. John watched first him, then the rest of the group slowly trickle away from the ancient willow tree. Sarah stayed behind, her eyes fixed on his. John sighed. ¡°Yes, my love?¡± Sarah flinched. ¡°I..¡± She threw her hands up weakly. ¡°I had this whole tirade planned for you. Was gonna bitch you out for leaving me to sleep cold and alone for so many nights. But you¡¯re doing what¡¯s best, even I can see that. How can I be mad¡­¡± John turned to face her squarely. ¡°Easily. You can be mad. I would be concerned if you weren¡¯t. You¡¯re right, I¡¯ve spent a long time away from our bed and I predict that I¡¯m about to spend even longer. I¡¯m sorry, Sarah. Truly.¡± ¡°You¡¯re still going to leave, though.¡± Sarah replied, shocked at the amount of venom that slipped out in those words. That was much harsher than she¡¯d mean- ¡°I am.¡± Her thoughts got interrupted by John¡¯s pained admission. She looked up to see his eyes watering, and the anger slipped out of her grasp faster than rain hits the barren dirt. ¡°I hate this. I hate having to be away from you, I hate having to spend my entire days preparing to fight, all while knowing in the back of my mind that these people, these young girls and boys, are going to draw steel in our name and die for it! Strong people, good people! Why?! I hate the time without you. I hate the responsibility. I just¡­ it¡¯s so tiring. We have this system with the power to grant magic, and yet there¡¯s still so much death! Were that I were George and could leave for a week without being questioned.¡± ¡°The guy does seem to be living his best life.¡± Sarah carefully admitted. ¡°But I doubt you would find that as enjoyable as he. You thrive with goals to accomplish and direction to follow.¡± John gestured wildly around the clearing, though his eyes remained clear and focussed. ¡°Haven¡¯t you noticed, wife of mine? The goals here are murder and the direction malevolent.¡± Sarah smiled. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing I have a couple more recruits for you.¡± John shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t have help, you heard Dalton.¡± Sarah rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, yes, it needs to be a Legion victory. Tell me though, where else am I going to send my apprentices that unlocked a Medicus class?¡± The Centurion could not argue with that.
Bill took a deep breath, now the only member of the Family able to hold it long enough to continue the construction of the tower. Him, Whitney, and his entire gathered family had been dropped into this tutorial. They had awoken on a flat stone expanse. In front of them were three foundations of poured concrete, foundations that ran deeper than any had managed to dig, and were solid to the point of being unnatural. As they awoke, they found themselves joined by hundreds of other people. A voice had manifested in their heads, commanding them to split the group in three and begin building a tower on one of the foundations each. Bill had immediately chosen the left side tower, as per William¡¯s instruction¡¯s, then gathered his family and gotten to work. The elderly were placed on planning and logistics, the strong sent into the mines on the other side of the stone expanse to gather materials. They reported small bands of roaming monsters, and soon Bill had taken it upon himself to patrol the mines and keep them safe for usage. As a result, his level had shot up, and he¡¯d soon evolved a number of his skills in his Martial Chronomancy Initiate class. The skills were not powerful on their own, but in how they were used. For example, his Self-Stasis allowed him to lock in the oxygenated state of his lungs for as long as his MP held up. His MP regenerated faster the lower it was. He could hold one lung indefinitely but that felt too damn weird so he just held both for 15 minutes. It was long enough to reach the top of the skyscraper. Carrying multiple steel girders to continue building the frame skywards, Bill trekked up the stairs. Three floors, Nine, Eighteen, until eventually he hit the 108th floor, and pushed open the door to reveal a skeleton of steel with a hurricane wind blowing throughout. Well used to the conditions, Bill placed each of the girders close to their spots, drew a wand, then held each girder up with one hand while the other traced lines of magical welding. Briefly, through the curtain of hair that whipped in the gale, he spotted a figure on the skyscraper across from him, goggles down on her face, crude oxygen mask looming large on her back, and weld-wand in hand. The figure looked back at him and though it was too far away, Bill could all but envision the smirk on Whitney¡¯s face, and he laughed aloud when she flipped him off. Unfortunately, that used up his air. He proceeded to weld the rest of the girders at his full speed, flip her off in return, then took a step off the edge of the tower. His gut rose into his throat and the wind seemed to get even stronger if that was possible, but Bill just angled his body to avoid the two gigantic building and continued free-falling. With a quick skill activation, Bill had gone from active free-fall to nowhere to standing nonchalantly on the ground. To the outside, it was as if he had decided to land instead of be crushed by gravity. From his own perspective, Bill had just skipped a third of a second of time, specifically the third of a second where his body would have been crushed by the momentum of falling from such a tall tower. As he hadn¡¯t actually existed for that brief moment, reality placed him safely on the ground when he came back from the skip. Bill smiled. That was only one of his skills, and an unevolved one at that. 33. Deployment ¡°The Centurion requests you allow him a day before you depart the capital, sir.¡± Mitchell raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did the Centurion provide a reason, Caleb?¡± The man was swift and discrete, which had made John place him in the role of permanent messenger. Mitchell had agreed and had already earmarked their first horse for the man, to assist him in his job. When they got it, that was. ¡°Yes, Patriarch. He says to allow his forces time to march, you should depart at just after noon. He also says that combat with the Raccans is going well and casualties are almost non-existent, though he expects proper fighting to break out soon. So far it¡¯s just been a few skirmishes, our scouts harrying their hunting parties, but we retain the qualitative advantage.¡± ¡°Did the Centurion tell you which forces were marching?¡± ¡°The Second Legion is at roughly half-strength. Centurion Forrester wishes to blood and train them on the Raccans, and is sending half the First to assist you in the campaign against the Khanclave.¡± Mitchell chuckled. John had left not a day ago and was already finding things too easy. ¡°Very well. Consider your message received and acknowledged. Deliver your message to the Surgeon General and then report to the Master Hunter for your return trip.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Caleb saluted before darting off. The man was fast, he would easily admit, though not quite at George¡¯s level. Mitchell didn¡¯t agree with John¡¯s decision. He could see the merits in it - low-level creatures would be prime training for the Legion, though with the dungeon so close to them, it was largely a moot point, just Raccans instead of the giant ants. However, he was more worried about spreading their forces too thin. Outnumbered to the north, and with the south holding the equipment advantage, either fight would be one that relied on cunning and strategy to win. To take both groups on at the same time displayed a level of confidence in Mitchell¡¯s leadership that he himself found alien. He would not let John down, though. Half a century was fifty soldiers - Miriam had gone north with her Wandslinger apprentice. She would not help them fight, but her enchanting would reinforce the walls, and the Wandslinger had just begun being able to create his own wands. With them as a force multiplier and a hundred at their back, Mitchell had faith that John would succeed in driving back the Raccans. He turned his thoughts to his own task, reviewing the tactical situation. A day¡¯s quick march stood between them and the Khanclave, though it was closer to two days given the terrain and the need to make a proper camp for the night. Marching from dawn to dusk would leave the soldiers exhausted, and Mitchell lacked any of John¡¯s skills to assist with the army. So it would be two days of travel. However, that first night of camping out in the forest would be dangerous, with the wild beasts and Khanclave riders. He needed John to come down and build a fortification at the halfway point, but John was too busy to do that right now. Instead, he was forced to find another method. George had blatantly refused to transport more than the Core members at one time using his new Treestrider skill, given his lacking MP and the effects of running too low, which Mitchell understood. He considered the idea of travelling from the other side of the river, but quickly dismissed it - the western edge of the river lacked the tight forest that barred their path, true, but the wide plains made it the best possible terrain for a force of horse archers. Beyond that, he¡¯d yet to decide what kind of force they were sending. Would it be a small garrison, to keep the riders honest? Would he be at the head of a conquering army? Would they attack the camp and destroy the Khanclave in a war of extermination, or was this more of a border dispute? Most importantly, though, Mitchell wanted to speak with this Khan of theirs. From leader to leader, to determine exactly why the riders had come unannounced and set fire to his wall. As it was they had attacked unprovoked, and Mitchell had reacted by responding with his declaration of war. He wanted to speak with them, find out if there wasn¡¯t a way to solve this without bloodshed - or rather, without any more. George had killed a number of them already. Mitchell sighed. He just didn¡¯t know how to proceed, he only knew that he must do so anyways.
¡°Lines one and two, take the north flank. Three and five, take the south. Fourth, you¡¯re with me.¡± ¡°Should we wake the others, sir?¡± Jack asked, his armour since adorned with a trio of hawk feathers over his left breast. John smirked at the sight of the sea of Skirmishers and Brutes outside his walls. ¡°No need. We can clean this batch up no problem. Let them get their rest for the night shift. Now go! I¡¯m sallying out in three minutes and if I don¡¯t see you out there, I¡¯ll hand you over to Jack for PT again!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± Two groups of twenty Legionnaires ran into the camp, heading for the west entrance. Once there, they would split and engage along the north and south. If timed right, this would be after John¡¯s own line made themselves targets, and his reinforcements would be able to smash into the distracted troops rear. ¡°Alright fourth line. Time to go earn our pay.¡± A smattering of affirmation met his ears, and he rolled his eyes internally. ¡°The hell was that lukewarm shit? Fourth Line! Prepare to repel the enemy at the gates!¡± ¡°Ha-oh!¡± A unified call returned, and John nodded with satisfaction. Ten steps later, they were at the impromptu gate, the slender wood reinforced with the sigils of Enchantments. Miriam found it frustrating to be forbidden from combat, but she¡¯d proved invaluable when it came to her ability to improve their existing gear. His own shield had the same sigils carved onto its back side, and the sigil on his gladius both signified the same thing: their equipment would last longer in the field. Sword edges would dull slower, shields would resist splintering, even the javelins were less prone to shattering against hard surfaces. ¡°On my mark!¡± John shouted, strapping his shield to his arm and drawing his gladius. ¡°Three! Two! One!¡± John took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and slapped his gladius against his shield once, the crack of the wood serving to hype himself up. ¡°Mark!¡± A booted foot raised, and kicked the gate open. The wood swung forward a half foot before bouncing off something on the other side. Without waiting, John dropped his shoulder and pushed forward, the resistance giving way almost immediately as the door was forced open by his prodigious strength score. Then, with three more steps, he was among the surprised Raccan¡¯s that had been milling outside the wall aimlessly. With hoots and howls and chittering screeches, the Raccans turned to the enemy and pushed forwards. John¡¯s shield pushed out, and the Centurion was briefly surprised to see that the impact with the Skirmisher knocked it bodily from its feet and bowled it over, the creature falling and tangling up a Brute¡¯s legs and sending both of them to the hard packed dirt. John stepped forward, taking the opportunity to stab deeply into the Brute¡¯s chest, twisting the blade as he yanked it out. To his right, another Brute bulled its way through the crowd, clawed arm sweeping down to decapitate him, but the claw never made it, a red shield interspersing itself between John and the danger. To his left, the rest of the line stepped up and into formation, lashing out with thrusts and bashing shields to clear enough space until he was standing in the center of a line of hardened warriors. Like him, they used their shields masterfully, bashing away attacks and pushing the enemy off balance before their comrades capitalized on the distracted foe. However the sheer number of foes could easily overwhelm John and his eleven. This was only reinforced when the Legionnaire at the far right of the line, a man John had never gotten the name of, was dragged screaming into the mass by his shield, unable to remove the straps in time before he was forced to the ground and his screaming gave way to the pained gurgling and gnashing of teeth. John watched as the man - one of his soldiers - was eaten alive by the beasts. Rage, pure and hot and red flowed through his veins and narrowed his vision. He activated his skill Hold the Line, feeling the effects deep within. The pressing need to take the land they stood upon and hold, hold this space until none stood before him, to be the unbreaking bastion upon which the waves of blood would be halted. His emotion welled, and he let it all come forth. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Hold!¡± He shouted, a pulse of crimson erupting from his feet and enveloping the line as the skill entwined itself in his actions. ¡°For hearth, for home, for the end of the beasts, hold!¡± The crimson glow swirled around their feet, coursed up their legs, and sunk into their courageous hearts. Those wavering after the fall of their comrade had their fear replaced with righteous vengeance, those who fought with all their might found those reserves of energy just a little bit deeper. ¡°¡®Tis a bloody day, but we are bloody men! These fuckers play at battle, but we live in war! In the name of the Legion! In the name of the Clan! In the name of Gunther, we hold!¡± A separate golden pulse swept out from John and encompassed the line, but it didn¡¯t stop there. It spread out into the Raccan lines, it spread beyond, to the north and the south and into the camp. Everywhere it touched, the hearts and minds of the Legion were bolstered with courage and skill. The bodies of the Raccans responded just the slightest bit more slowly, the Skirmishers faltering in their zeal and the Brutes growing tentative in their assaults. It was enough to allow them, these ten men, to stand with their backs to the open gate of the camp, with naught to their front and sides but the enemy, and hold fast. A Brute attempted to bowl through the line, but was met by two shields and a thrusting Gladius that was only barely dodged. A trio of skirmishers ducked low in an attempt to scrabble underneath, but were almost instantly dispatched with quick, efficient thrusts. John lost himself to the battle, his shield arm vibrating as it blocked attack after attack, the wood holding strong. His sword flicked out from behind the defense, ending Raccan lives or just maiming them enough to stop them from fighting. After a minute, he noticed that his line was having trouble, getting tangled up in the limbs of the fallen. ¡°Fourth Line!¡± He bellowed, his voice clear even over the sounds of battle. ¡°Forward!¡± Using his second combat skill, Testudo, glowing copies of his shield materialized before him. John pushed them forwards, catching three - no, six - Raccans in his push and overpowering them with a shout of effort. He took three steps, just enough to get him away from the corpses, then planted his shield. To his sides, a similar display played out, the line working in synchronized motions to deal efficient death. The maneuver was enough time for John to peek his head over the mass of black and white fur, smiling as he saw the right part of the horde diverting its attention to something that was beyond the wall from his own vision. That would have been Third and Fifth Lines. First and Second had yet to make their appearance, but the terrain was tougher around that side of the camp and they should arrive soon. With a solid third of the mass distracted, John breathed a sigh of relief and amended his orders to account for the lessened pressure. ¡°Fourth Line! Crescent formation!¡± The left and right flanks of his line tightened themselves in towards the middle and stepped back, allowing the small formation to have a limited ability to refuse the flanks. Six on front, two to either side. ¡°Fourth Line, Double ranks!¡± This adjusted the line even further, to have a front and back rank. Three shields in front, three swords behind, and a pair on either flank. This allowed the soldiers to step back if they were being overwhelmed, and the man behind could push back into the space and fill the hole. It had worked well in their drills, but now John would see how his small-unit formations worked in practice. The answer was absolutely flawlessly. The Fourth Line turned into a deadly hedgehog, not a single Raccan could even get close without swords flying out to meet them. John saw a cloud of javelins fly in from the south, and with how densely packed the Raccan¡¯s were, not a single one missed. John could not help himself, and let out a cheer even as a second flight of javelins pierced into the southern flank of the mass, tens of Raccan¡¯s dropping unmoving to the dirt. The pressure lessened even further from their formation, and John chanced a glance back to see Optio Hailey in the midst of dragging corpses out of the way. Her eyes went wide, and it was clear she knew she was on rest detail, but then they hardened as if daring him to challenge her. He did not. They needed those corpses moved to keep the gate secure. He waited until she was done, the shield wall having reached a tense stalemate with the Raccan¡¯s directly across. A space of bloody mud no longer than a person was tall was all that stood between, but the beasts didn¡¯t seem willing to cross it. ¡°Fourth Line, back step!¡± Under John¡¯s command, the line retreated back to their spot in front of the gate, now free of obstruction. A skirmisher tried to dart forward at their first backstep, but found itself impaled to the dirt and soon thereafter dead, Hailey¡¯s thrown javelin propping the corpse up in a macabre display. There was a pause, only the span of a breath, but then the Raccans turned and fled for the treeline, an unintelligible command spreading by word of mouth through their ranks. They ran north, away from the third flight of javelins. A few were caught by the attack, but the majority of the projectiles stuck into the dirt. Sixteen men and women of the Legion emerged from the southern edge of the wall. John looked north, and could see only the retreating Raccans. His heart sank, even as he broke formation and sprinted with all of his strength, rounding the corner- Death. Bodies adorned in Legion red. Splintered shields and shattered swords. Three Raccan Commandoes all darting and circling around two figures, who stood back to back. Even as John watched, his steps seeming to slow even as his thoughts sped up, a sword slipped under the guard of a shield and stabbed deeply into one of the Legionnaires guts, the weapon being torn out and his soldier falling to the ground with his hands clamped to his stomach, eyes wide in fear as he desperately attempted to keep everything inside of himself. The other Legionnaire spun with a snarl, his sword flashing out at head height and only just scratching the Raccan across the face. With a chitter of pain, it scampered back towards the tree line, but that moment was enough for the other two to attack in turn, one sword going high and the other low. Jack - for that was who still stood - roared in pain as his chest armour was slashed clean through. He¡¯d blocked the lower attack with his shield, and even as blood fell down his chest he adjusted his footing, placing one leg on either side of his fallen comrade. His face was stricken with a terrible visage, a bloody snarl on his features and hate in his eyes. His mouth was stained with blood, and John felt a mix of revulsion and tempered awe. ¡°Come on!¡± He shouted, his voice cracking. ¡°Come and get me!¡± John pushed himself as fast as he could, his feet sinking into the dirt, but each footfall felt slower than the last, heavier, and he knew he wouldn¡¯t make it in time. The commandos shared a look, then darted forwards, the first making an obvious overhand swing with both of his hands that Jack was forced to block, lest he take a shot to the head or worse, allow the strike to pass down to his protectee. In a picture-perfect display of his training, the shield flew up, countering the force of the blow, even as Jack¡¯s other arm leapt forward and thrust his sword home, the blade coming up underneath the Raccan¡¯s jaw and out the top of its head. Then the other Raccan¡¯s strike landed from behind him, and Jack¡¯s hamstring was cut, his leg failing out from under him. Yet, even as he fell and screamed and bled, his arm lashed out one last time, a silver blur shimmering through the air before Jack fell unconscious. The second Raccan commando fell unmoving with a new, bloody line across its throat. John¡¯s jaw dropped as he ceased his run, still fifteen feet away from the scene. John stood and stared at the unmoving form of his Optio Primus, even as shouts of ¡®Medicus! Medicus, here!¡¯ began to erupt. He continued staring, even as Optio Hailey led him away and back to his tent where his state of mind wouldn¡¯t be as noticed by the men. In total, twenty-four soldiers were lost in the battle that would never have a name nor a purpose. Among them were three of his Optios, one Medicus, and the majority of the First and Second line. In later debriefing, John learned that as soon as his two lines - his elite lines, the ones who had done best in drill and had been combat tested in the dungeon - had left the walls, ten commandoes had leapt out of a tunnel covered with grass and ambushed them. Only one had escaped, the one that John had seen go with the scratch across its face. Then he learned that Jack had traded his Optio shift with another Optio, and he hadn¡¯t lost the first line, but the seventh. The Optio Primus was slated to make a full recovery - those Medicus were no joke if they got there soon enough after the injury had happened - but John knew that some punishments needed to be dished out, and discipline reinforced. There was, however, one good thing that John saw out of the horrible disaster that was the battle. His Legion had been blooded, and with that came legitimacy in more ways than one. The first was a new tab in his status called a campaign map, which showed the local area with a small x over where the battle had taken place. There was another x closer to the dungeon which he resolved to look into later, then a smattering down south where the Khanclave was camped. Locations of battles or ambushes, he wagered. There was a small banner where he was currently, and another half-banner slowly making its way south to Old Mill Town. More importantly, however, was the upgrade to the legion itself. First Legion legitimized! First Century training complete. Second Century training 53% Third Century training 0% Fourth Century training 0% Fifth Century training 0% Sixth Century training 0% First Cohort progress: 27% Please select a specialization for First Century - Error! First Century specialization auto-relegated to Command Specialization. First Century training status reverted to 50%. Please select an Auxilliary Type for the First Cohort: -Equinnes -Archers -Engineers Due to your Legions history of battle, the following options are also available: -Raccan Skirmisher Band -Raccan Wolf-riders 34. Sorting It Out The Legion upgrade did not come without caveats. Error! Current Legion structure incompatible with Auxilliary functions. Error! Current Century size incompatible with Command Specialization! First Legion, First Cohort, First Century is unable to perform military options until retrained. And so John was forced to restructure his Legion into something that was not quite as useful to him now, but would be understandably necessary later. The system provided guidelines, but in the end the issue was too many officers, not enough soldiers. Also slightly disturbing was the presence of a slave/servant counter, but he would save that for later. He lead with the officers. A Century was expected to have 105 men and women. 5 Officers, 80 Soldiers, 20 Slaves/Servants. John hadn¡¯t realized, but without Servants, the Legionnaires had just been rotating duties and seemed to be doing fine, but John knew there was times when they would have no time for things like laundry, cooking meals, repairing socks, and the like. A problem to be solved later. He also learned about a complete Legion structure and balked. He¡¯d heard of Roman Legions, but for some reason he¡¯d never really thought about the actual numbers.105 people in each Century times six Centuries per Cohort meant he would need 630 soldiers to create a functional army rather than just single units. Then, once he had his cohort, he only had to make 8 more of them to make his Legion. Well, those, and the First Cohort which was somehow separate and needed five double-strength Centuries. So just under 7000 troops, around a thousand of which would be officers. When all was said and done, the Legion would have 59 Centurions, just like he was now. Each Century needed a Centurion, an Optio, a Tesserarius, a Signifer, and a Cornicen. Centurion to lead the Century, Optio to be his right hand, Tesserarius to keep the peace and dole out punishments, Signifer to bear the colours and flags, and Cornicen to perform reserve-Optio duties and horns. John grumbled when he realized that they didn¡¯t have flags, colours, or horns. They didn¡¯t even have a coat of arms to work with. First, he needed to dissolve his current Optio system, which was unfortunate for those who had made the cut. Jack was named as his only Optio, losing the Primus suffix, whereas the rest of them would become Decanus - Contubernium leaders. They were still expected to fight in rank with their squads, as John had taken to calling them in short. Speaking of other roles, he had a few that he didn¡¯t know needed filling. The expanded Legion dialogue showed him a lot of things, but this was one of the glaring incompatibility errors. He placed Hailey in the role of Signifer, as her blonde hair made her a rarity in the sea of brown and black and she would be easily spotted. The addition came with the responsibility of coming up with a set of visual codes that could be used to command his orders across the battlefield, though he told her to hold off on the actual flag. Next, he needed a Tesserarius, or his own guard captain. Someone who would police the troops, ensure he wasn¡¯t put into the situation where he thought he¡¯d been sending his elites to the front, not the Seventh line. Not Johann¡¯s line. The former Optio had been absolutely gutted by the loss of his men, and would require a day or two to come to terms with his loss. Something else he needed to address - where was the line between cruelty and the pursuit of efficiency? He found it tragically ironic, but placed Johanns in the position. The man would strive to ensure that what happened to him did not happen to anyone else. Jack would make sure of it. He had more positions to fill, so he moved on listlessly through the camp. He could assign his Immunes, or his camp specialists. He could assign up to four, though only one was needed. Either an Engineer, a Mage, a Medic, or a Scout. It was as simple as finding the most senior Medicus and then telling Miriam to send over whoever showed the most magical proficiency. She showed some concern at his state, but was stopped from pressing the issue by Johann, who John just noticed had been following him around the camp. How much easier it would be with his own friends. Sarah would be medic, of course, while George was the scout and Miri the mage. Mitchell could engineer, John supposed, though with a twist in his gut realized he himself would likely serve better as engineer given his Carpenter Apprentice class. Ah well. He had what he had. Soon the assignments would be done and he could choose an Auxilliary, though even then he had no idea if they would show up just like the Legionnaires did or if he would need to actually go recruit them. Either way, he returned to his tent to rest. Even though folding the Second into the First was necessary - he needed a double-strength Century, after all, so he might as well start now - he still felt like he¡¯d just lost half of his troops.
Mitchell looked upon the camp''s walls with a frown. There were bodies outside the gates, though he saw Legionnaires dragging their own dead away. The tree line looked broken. The soldiers lacked the determined set to their step they¡¯d had when they set out. There had been a battle, and it had not gone well. He frowned. That would disrupt his plan. Not nullify it - and even if it did, a long night of contingency planning had given him backups to fall on - but it was still much less than ideal. Behind him, the fifty or so members of the former Second Century looked upon the battlefield with horror. For Mitchell, he¡¯d seen worse. He¡¯d caused worse. Marching up to the camp¡¯s entrance, a pair of Legionnaires briefly stopped him, just long enough to send for the Centurion, then one of the guards split off and escorted him to the center where a mud-stained tent flapped lazily in what breeze could be found. The Second Century quickly dispersed among the camo, eager for tales of the obvious carnage, but Mitchell felt the buzz of the conversation outside fade as he stepped through the tents flaps. He felt his eyebrows rise in impressed surprise. Miriam was really coming along with her enchanting. John sat at a crude wooden desk, which itself was Mitchell¡¯s first clue that something was wrong. He was typically the type of man to stand over or lean on a desk, not sit there, slumped in his seat. His armour was bloody and scuffed, his helmet¡¯s horsehair mohawk bent but slowly straightening itself out. The man looked like someone had killed his wife and ate his dog right in front of his eyes. ¡°John.¡± The man in question flinched. ¡°John.¡± Mitchell repeated, stressing the word. ¡°What.¡± John spat out. ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°No, you aren¡¯t.¡± John¡¯s head whipped up in a furious scowl, until he realized who it was. Then the scowl faded to a frown. ¡°Come to gawk at the losers?¡± Mitchell blinked again. ¡°Ohhhh no. You¡¯re not doing this again. Let me guess, you guys had a battle with someone - and I know it¡¯s the Raccan¡¯s, due to the Clan Map, but let¡¯s just call them someone for now. You had a battle, you gave your orders, and people died. Walk me through it, though, so I can explain exactly why you¡¯re being stupid, and we can move on with our crazy lives.¡± John hissed, a very uncharacteristic sound from him. ¡°Oh fuck off Mitchell. I don¡¯t care whether I did things perfectly or not, and I¡¯m damn sure you couldn¡¯t have done better.¡± Mitchell changed tracks, internally wincing but steeling himself for what was to come. ¡°You wanna bet? You really think you¡¯re doing better than I could? Prove it, buddy.¡± John leaped to his feet. ¡°What, you want to fight me? Right here, right now?¡± Mitchell grinned internally. Lighting the fire had been the risky part. Now he just had to ensure it burned in the right direction. ¡°Me? No. I¡¯d kick your ass. How about a training exercise? Give me a couple lines of your guys, you take a couple, and we¡¯ll do a capture the flag or something. Hell, give me the lines from the Second, they haven¡¯t been trained yet anyways.¡± Mitchell flippantly waved a hand. ¡°You¡¯ll probably need the handicap to win, right?¡± John slowly stood, his face lowered and dark. ¡°To be clear, is this an order from my Patriarch, or is this a request from a man once my friend?¡± Mitchell felt a deep stab in his heart, one no armour could parry. The pain did not reach his features. ¡°Once?¡± He challenged. John raised his head to reveal his glare, though the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed his true emotion. ¡°Of course. I wouldn¡¯t fight a friend. I would, however, crush any enemy. Give me three lines of the Second. You can have a line of my First¡­ no, make that two lines of the First, but you can¡¯t take my veteran squad. They need to observe.¡± Mitchell smiled, though echoes of John¡¯s barb still lingered. ¡°Deal. Let¡¯s make it tomorrow morning, alright?¡± John let out a deep breath. ¡°Sure. Thanks, by the way.¡± Mitchell waved a hand, dismissing it. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Seriously though, what happened?¡± John sighed, and gestured towards his map. A crude outline of the ringed fortification was scribbled on rough material, with entrances at each cardinal direction. ¡°They came from the East first, and we watched. Gradually they just.. Filled the area around the Fort with their soldiers. Mostly skirmishers, like with the Founding Siege, but then Brutes started getting sprinkled in. With no shamans, we had the advantage and sallied out the Eastern gate. I sent two lines, to the North and South, to flank and envelop the enemy.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Hammer and Anvil. So where did it go wrong?¡± ¡°I pushed out the East with a line of men, and we set our line there-¡± ¡°So one line with you, two each to the north and south, and the other five were¡­¡± John¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Resting for the night shift.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Alright, continue.¡± ¡°We set our line there and held them back. The southern force made it around and were deploying javelins masterfully, but the north was delayed. We routed the Raccans with our three lines, but when I made it to the north, only two survived. Commandos tunneled close and popped up behind them. Did a real number on Jack, but he¡¯ll survive.¡± Mitchell interrupted again. ¡°Why did you sally out? Are you guys already out of food or something?¡± ¡°No, but we were slowly getting surrounded. If we had waited too long, we wouldn¡¯t have been able to flank.¡± Mitchell scoffed. ¡°Are you sure about that? Because if you¡¯d waited a day, I would have been here with the Second and we could easily have encircled them. A Fort makes a much better anvil than 10 men. Beyond that, flanking isn¡¯t the only possible tactic you could use. Did you consider a massed push out the front to split their forces in two? Either way, you sallied out. Continue.¡± ¡°You brought the Second back already? They were supposed to gain experience in¡­ well, it doesn¡¯t matter now. I had to fold the two together. My first century needs to be double-sized, just like the first Cohort.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°I mean, it makes sense. Command companies and all that. Still applied in modern militaries from what I remember reading online. Either way, you should be all filled up in a couple more days. I¡¯m dedicating it all to the military until you¡¯re finally all set. Dalton says we get bonuses for a properly functioning military so I want to get you there as soon as possible.¡± ¡°All set?¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Yea. We need a force for defense, and a force for offence. Which means I want you to build up the Second Century once the first gets its last reinforcements, and maybe even a Third if we¡¯re going to have to fight on two fronts. I¡¯ll work on making sure Old Mill Town can support that much - speaking of, we brought a cart full of supplies, but it¡¯s starting to drain from the treasury. We¡¯ll need to expand the walls soon, but for that we need stone, so don¡¯t worry about that just yet. For now, keep going on the battle.¡± John shook his head, parsing the news. ¡°Alright uhm.. So we sallied out, which in hindsight was probably a bad idea but we didn¡¯t have enough javelins to kill them all from the Fort so we had to.¡± Mitchell waved a hand in the air in a ¡®maybe¡¯ gesture. ¡°I mean, Ezekiel¡¯s here, right? Same with Miriam.¡± John groaned. ¡°Let me rephrase then - there was no way for the Legion to engage safely from the Fort, so we sallied out. If they¡¯d helped us, the Legion wouldn¡¯t have been legitimized.¡± ¡°Then save it!¡± Mitchell exploded, making the Centurion flinch at the abruptness. ¡°You think that blooding your troops is more important than having them live?! You could have called for help! You could have asked here for help! You could have done literally anything that wasn¡¯t deciding to fix the problem alone-¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to fucking talk, Mitch!¡± John responded in kind. ¡°Who dragged my wife out into a cave full of monsters?!¡± Mitchell¡¯s gaze turned cold. ¡°You want to make this personal? You¡¯re being reprimanded for your wanton waste of our god-damned citizens, John. Not because I think you need some pep talk. Not because I¡¯m thinking I could do it better. I won¡¯t say you killed them, because this is war and people are going to die. But from what you tell me, you didn¡¯t exactly put much effort into preserving them.¡± Mitchell stood, his class cuirass seeming cold and unyielding. ¡°You should think about that. I can¡¯t be the only one to notice that your soldiers seem very down, which is absolute horseshit for a military force on the front lines. It¡¯s like you¡¯re asking the Raccans to attack and beat you through morale loss. Figure it out.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. John¡¯s mind was scrambling, trying to find the right word or combination of words to hurt him, to cause him the pain and the guilt that he himself felt, when Mitchell stood and turned to go. Though, in his silence, he did hear a muttered phrase that ground his search to a halt. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose you.¡± John fought internally for a minute as the Page left, before eventually letting out a groan and picking up a rag to angrily begin polishing his armour from yesterday¡¯s grime. He was unsure if it was just Mitchell or some way the System translated Charisma, but that man infuriated him as greatly as he motivated. He had a terrible habit of being right. John needed to prepare for the next attack.
Lunch came and went in a disorganized, fend-for-yourself type of way, and soon Mitchell found himself back at the gates, ready to head back to Old Mill Town and start preparing his diplomatic approach to the Khanclave. Miriam, Ezekiel, and as expected Legionnaire Caleb were there as well, ready to join him on his trip. Or, so he thought. Miriam shrugged helplessly. ¡°It¡¯ll only be for a day or two. Aleisha¡¯s going to make them a few wands, and I think that I should be able to teach a few of the newer recruits a basic spell or two.¡± Ezekiel simply wasn¡¯t there, but a quick look-around had him located amidst a small group of new recruits that were checking out his bow. Mitchell nodded, his throat tight. ¡°Very well. I suppose I¡¯ll see you in a few days then?¡± Miriam scoffed. ¡°Acting like I¡¯m going to Europe or something¡­¡± Mitchell pulled her into an embrace. ¡°Anywhere that isn¡¯t by my side may as well be the other end of the earth.¡± ¡°Dramatic.¡± She mumbled, but even so she squeezed him tightly. ¡°Be safe, please?¡± Mitchell felt his frustration deflate. ¡°Of course I will, my love.¡± She pulled back, taking a moment to catch and hold his eye. ¡°When this is over, I still want us to get married.¡± Mitchell almost flinched. He hadn¡¯t realized it was something Miriam was thinking about - with all that¡¯d happened, their engagement fell to the back of his mind. He immediately realized how unfair that was. ¡°Of course.¡± He repeated. ¡°Who says things need to be over, though? I say we throw a wedding to celebrate when we win this tutorial.¡± Miriam hit his chest lightly. ¡°Goofball. We¡¯re going to have to find our families first.¡± Mitchell¡¯s burgeoning good mood evaporated like mist in the morning light. Thoughts of his less-than-mobile mother enduring the hardships they¡¯d gone through made him want to scream and rage and cry and kill and- Soft lips met his own, chapped and dry, snapping him from his thoughts. After a moment, they parted. Miriam looked up at him with a small, sly grin. ¡°Now, go do your city building thing. I¡¯ve noticed you haven¡¯t bothered making a chocolatier or florist - either would be a nice coming home present.¡± Mitchell nodded, his mind already turning to the task. Chocolate was a tropical crop, from what he recalled before so that was likely to be impossible for them, but florists? Boutiques? Definitely within the range of possibility but how much would it actually help Old Mill Town? The boutiques would likely need suppliers, which meant non-essential crafters¡­ Miriam laughed. ¡°Get going, love. I can tell you¡¯re already thinking about the town.¡± Mitchell gave her a grateful, half-attentive nod, and set out with the Legion¡¯s messenger to return home. Miriam held her smile until they passed into the forest, then let it drop and turned her head towards the north where a tall cliff emerged from the soil, stretching at least a hundred meters up. It was difficult to see over the treeline, but as the forest was cut back, the cliffs became more visible. Good, that meant she wouldn¡¯t have to go as far. In the Giant¡¯s Shadow (Quest Type: Personal) Your settlement is within range of a terrible arcane contraption hidden in the escarpment, and will be irrevocably changed by its activation. Unfortunately, a careless creature has activated it. In 5 days, the land beneath will no longer harbour carbon-based life. Objectives: Protect your faction (optional) Stop the arcane process (optional) Organize and execute an evacuation (optional) Defeat the Anchorbeasts Restrictions: 3:23:18 remaining Party functions disabled. Rewards: 1x Arcanists Workshop (outpost) 10x C-coins Class Potential Upgrade 180,000 XP 1x Arcanists Robes (Rare) Failure: Dissolution of Old Mill Town and Branch Clan Possible death Possible imprisonment Possible enslavement This new quest had come to her the day before, after teaching her apprentices the basic magic dart spell she¡¯d started with and could now cast effectively indefinitely. Beyond the implications (such as the System officially recognizing their group as the Branch clan, as Mitchell had joked many nights ago) the experience should be enough to get her past level 45 and all the way to 48, or two levels short of her classes ultimate skill and seven short of her first skill evolution, as per Dalton. Beyond that, the rewarded outpost was a D-Level building when she¡¯d asked the advisor, one that was specific for spell-creating classes. Then the money: 100 F-coins to an E-coin, then 100 E-coins in each D-coin, then 100 D-coins to a C-coin. If F-coins were the equivalent of their dollars, this quest would pay out around 10 million. That was more money than their settlement had seen in its entire history. Beyond that, some new robes would be nice, and she knew that having her class potential increase while already having a rare class would mean the offerings would be much better when it came time for E-rank. Internally, she marvelled: It had never been a question to her of whether she would reach the next rank.. In all, she couldn¡¯t afford to reject this quest, even without looking at the Penalties. Now, all she had to do was find out where she was supposed to go. All she knew was that this contraption was within range of their village, but was also within the cliffs of the escarpment. Yet, she had to do this alone. There was nothing stopping her from tailing along with scouting groups, though. She could assist them while performing her own search. It was only efficient. She only had around four days left.
Three days until quest end The First Century was approaching 200 men, which was a very good thing in John¡¯s eyes, and a very bad thing in Mitchell and Kyla¡¯s. ¡°What do you want me to do about it? I can¡¯t just summon food from midair!¡± Kyla protested. ¡°Administrate!¡± Mitchell answered, frustrated. ¡°You knew we had more men coming, you knew we had the manpower to make more farms, so why didn¡¯t you?!¡± Kyla looked at him incredulous. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± She waved around the coopted bedroom Mitchell used as an office. It was absolutely covered in parchments. ¡°This shit just pops out of the air! You¡¯re lucky I even managed to organize it all for you, and now you want me to do your job too? Fuck off!¡± Mitchell growled. ¡°Does this look organized to you?¡± Kyla scoffed again, planting her hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯m here to administrate, not build you a fuckin¡¯ filing cabinet. Besides, where is all of this paper coming from?! It¡¯s not cheap to buy from the Store! Dalton!¡± The advisor poked his head in the door, having slipped out when the two began arguing. A floppy, bright blue and red hat sat on his head. ¡°Yes, Administrator?¡± ¡°Where the hell is all this paper coming from?!¡± ¡°The Clan¡¯s administrative settings have been set to source paper from our local market for internal reports, Administrator.¡± Dalton replied easily. ¡°Was this not intended?¡± Mitchell¡¯s eyes flared. ¡°Tommen. Bring him to me immediately.¡± He ordered. Dalton winced. ¡°That¡¯s not really something I can d-¡± ¡°Either go bring me Tommen, or go get John so he can tell you why it¡¯s absolutely stupid to have the Legion monopolize communications. We aren¡¯t doing that.¡± ¡°You should really have guards.¡± Kyla let out a huff of frustration. ¡°Fine! Go laze in your fuckin¡¯ room. I¡¯ll get him.¡± Not two minutes later, Kyla stormed back into the office, dragging our merchant by the scruff of his fine robes. Mitchell¡¯s eyes narrowed - nobody had fine clothing in the Clan. The Warrior-Administrator threw him into the sole empty chair so hard the furniture rocked and almost fell over before she righted it. ¡°P-Patriarch! What is the meaning of this? I have done no-¡± ¡°Do you think we¡¯re stupid?¡± Mitchell asked, his face not betraying his emotion. Tommen¡¯s face paled, and a thin sheen of sweat was visible in the paltry light coming in from outside. ¡°No, illustrious Patriarch! No, your wisdom is unmatched, your cunning abov-¡± ¡°Now he lies.¡± Mitchell muttered, disappointed. ¡°Tommen. You recall your entry to this Clan. Remind me - what is your ranking?¡± Tommen blinked. ¡°Erm¡­ I am a Merchant, Patria-¡± Mitchell slammed his hands on the desk, his fists breaking through the wood. ¡°You are an inner member of the clan. Outside of the Core, you are the clan. You were the very first one we inducted. You may very well be the first one we banish. Now explain to me why my office is full of paper, and why I¡¯m told we¡¯re buying it off of you.¡± Mitchell pried his hand back out of the desk, internally even more upset he would need to now request a new desk from John. Tommen blinked. ¡°I¡­ erm¡­¡± Kyla snorted. ¡°You have Charisma out the asshole, Tommen. Don¡¯t stammer like you can¡¯t find your words.¡± Tommen raised an eyebrow at her, sighing before collecting himself and brushing off his clothing. ¡°Fine. Though you should know that acting is also a skill that falls under Charisma.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got good Instinct. Now talk.¡± Tommen sighed. ¡°Very well. As the Market Manager, I have access to various choices. Things like which types of food to import when you ask for a feast, which market to collect steel or stone from to ensure we get the best quality for our coin, when to sell various goods to maximize profit, and other things. For some reason, there was a request for administrative resources from the Clan house, and paper was the ideal option.¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°So how much have we spent on paper?¡± Tommen grinned. ¡°See, that¡¯s the thing! We¡¯ve actually made around 80 F-coins so far, and we just started yesterday.¡± That did explain the sudden influx of paper coming out of nowhere, seemingly today. ¡°Explain yourself.¡± Tommen made to stand before Kyla¡¯s hand clamped down on his shoulder. ¡°Sorry, just got excited. See, a couple days ago I heard some of your Aspirants having a discussion while perusing their food options - and can I just say, Patriarch, that your people really do believe in the system of this place, so you may want to have some more internal movement between the clan¡¯s tiers of citizen-¡± Mitchell knocked lightly on an undamaged part of his table. ¡°The paper, Tommen.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting to it!¡± He exclaimed with an affronted look. ¡°So there I am, as an inner member, thinking to myself ¡®Hey, Tommen, ol¡¯ Tommy boy, these guys have done just swell by you, why not pay them back somehow?¡¯ Well wouldn¡¯t you know it - and I¡¯m genuinely uncertain of if you know it or not - but one of the Aspirants showed an aspiration - pun intended - towards becoming a tailor! The class outfits are alright, but as you can imagine you wouldn¡¯t want to walk around in armour on your days off, would you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mitchell responded easily. ¡°I would.¡± Tommen faltered. ¡°Er.. Well, alright, but most people don¡¯t. The issue is, materials for clothing are expensive on the Store. So I figured I couldn¡¯t waste our money on getting that Aspirant a bunch of cloth to ruin while trying to get a class.¡± He paused expectantly. Mitchell raised a brow. ¡°Good decision. Continue.¡± Tommen preened under the compliment. ¡°Well, naturally I put my mind to task, and with some help from your advisor, discovered that the Aspirant - his name is Theodore, by the way - didn¡¯t need to use the materials, just the tools. So, I bought him a pair of fabric shears from my own money and agreed to sell off anything he made to the people in town. From there, we discovered that we could buy rolls of uncut paper, and Theodore practiced with his shears on them, netting him the class. Thorn needed paper, as a bookbinder is relatively useless without materials, so the lion¡¯s share went to him at the start, and we sold off the rest to recoup the costs of the paper rolls. Though, we couldn¡¯t sell it fast enough, and we now have a stock. Then, I was given a quest to source a method of record-keeping, which immediately completed itself because I had a stock of paper I could supply. That was yesterday.¡± Mitchell frowned, unable to really find anywhere that Tommen had overstepped his role. ¡°In the future, please come to us when you receive quests that pertain to the settlement. Specifically to Kyla. Off the top of my head, were you aware paper could be used for construction? Armour?¡± Tommen blinked owlishly. ¡°For armour? Patriarch, paper is much too weak to provide any protection.¡± ¡°One sheet, sure. Three sheets, yep. Twenty sheets fused together with sap or resin? I bet it could turn a blade.¡± Mitchell responded. Tommen almost bounced. ¡°Genius! The crafters could improve the quality of the resin or sap, then improve the quality of the paper armour, then yet again improve it in the process of attaching it to a harness! If all goes well, you could start making E-grade armour!¡± Dalton finally spoke up. ¡°Yes, that is a benefit to goods that require multiple crafters. Though, with the current levels of the crafters in town, I doubt any more than 1 in a million sets of paper armour would be E grade. As you know, the item tiers are many. I imagine your paper armour concept warrants an Uncommon rank, simply because it¡¯s not something I¡¯ve heard of before. With three crafters working on each item - one for the paper, one for the framing, one for the harnessing - your maximum possible increase in ranking is 6, though 3 is more likely.¡± ¡°Three should be more than enough, shouldn¡¯t it?¡± Mitchell asked, confused. ¡°You told me with the farms that it went from Low Quality to Exemplary.¡± Dalton blinked. ¡°My mistake. That scale applies to consumables such as potions, foods, arrows and bolts, things that are ¡®used¡¯ rather than ¡®equipped¡¯. The equipment tiers are different and go from Basic - which isn¡¯t necessarily a bad tier, just applies to things like basic bows, sharpened sticks for spears, basic padded armour, stuff like that. Then it goes Common, Uncommon, Rare, Very Rare, Mythic, Legendary, and then the side-tiers of Divine and Unique. So for your paper armour, it would start at Uncommon. Each crafter has a 1% chance per level to raise the quality of the produced item, though that¡¯s for level one items. It¡¯s more likely if the crafter has outgrown the schematic - a C-grade blacksmith could make Rare-tier F-grade swords 100% of the time.¡± Mitchell nodded, still processing. ¡°Alright. So say our tailor cuts the paper and makes it Uncommon.¡± ¡°Unlikely. Paper starts as a Basic good. It¡¯s more likely to become Common, or likely just stay the same.¡± ¡°Please tell me there¡¯s at least benefits to this beyond sale price.¡± Kyla muttered as her hands massaged her temples. ¡°Of course! Each quality tier will increase the inherent properties of the item by roughly five percent. If a common iron breastplate provided 10 armour, then a Rare one would provide 11. A Mythical would provide 12. Divine or unique would be incredibly unlikely for an F-grade item, but if it did, the effects would diverge from the purpose of the item - for example, one of my cousins had a Unique gauntlet. While the armour was not any better than other armour of the class in terms of protection, the gauntlet allowed him to grab and affect things at a distance. He built his fighting style around it, using spear and flail with speed and range.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°So likely, if all goes well, we end up with one or two more points of armour. Seems like a lot of effort for a minor increase.¡± Dalton laughed. ¡°Of course you would think so! But imagine that 20% boost provided to every single one of the Legion¡¯s troops? Imagine crafting weapons that did 20% more damage? That could turn the tide of a battle, even a war.¡± The Patriarch hummed as he thought. That would be a significant advantage, though he still felt like he was missing something. ¡°So what happens when an item moves up to the next tier?¡± ¡°It¡­ becomes a different item. There¡¯s no such thing as an E-grade iron breastplate - no matter what a craftsman does, iron is still as hard as iron can be. However, it is possible to end up with such a botched crafting that your item goes down a tier. Poorly forged steel can still end up as F-rank armour. However, strike such occurrences from your mind - it¡¯s only possible with C-grade or higher craftsmen, and they are in high demand so you are incredibly unlikely to find one available for hire.¡± Mitchell nodded. He had a lot to think about. ¡°Alright. Tommen, I want you to find someone to continue with paper once Theodore moves on to clothing. Kyla, can you make sure that he has what he needs for that? We can invest some experience into it if we must.¡± ¡°Sure, after I find someone to make us a proper filing cabinet.¡± She replied, waving at the strewn papers about the room. Mitchell frowned. This - along with the equipment John kept requesting, the construction materials he needed, the fine instruments Miri and Sarah wanted... He supposed it was finally time. With a few adjustments to the immigration page, Mitchell once again placed all their bets on a single purpose, and would only be receiving two immigrants out of it. ¡°Alright, find someone for the paper starting tomorrow. I¡¯ve put this off long enough. Gonna lose so much money¡­¡± Mitchell muttered the last to himself. However, compared to when they had first started building and recruiting for Old Mill Town, these two immigrants had a massive amount of experience sunk into them.
The next morning, a pair of short, heavily built men strolled down the path, clay jugs in hand and singing a merry tune, the words of which were unintelligible to the guards at the gate. Behind the two was a cart being pulled by a donkey, and the cart was laden with bits and scraps of metal, barrels, and a blocky shape underneath an oilcloth. The two men were not men, on further inspection. They were dwarves, and they were the first non-human immigrants to Old Milltown. ¡°Allo Me-m-mo-Messieurs! Bon-jour to you!¡± One called out, and the two sank into giggles. The taller (though just barely) one stepped forward and knocked on the wall with a chisel hammer he pulled from his belt. ¡°Open zis door, if you please kindly!¡± The two were also roaring drunk. 35. Windfall ¡°Oh god they¡¯re French.¡± Mitchell muttered. He had French heritage but had never been a part of the culture or spoken the language any more fluently than mandatory classes allowed for. The two men - or dwarves, Mitchell corrected himself - were nearly identical were it not for their difference in beards and outfits. The one standing to the left wore thick canvas overalls, while the one to the right was dressed in a tunic with breeches covered by an apron. All the clothing was set in earth-like colours of sage, russet, and goldenrod. Oddly enough, they gave off the impression of being earthy and dirty, though were impeccably clean. The one with overalls wore his beard tightly wound in a single braid, where the other had beads and rings dotted through an otherwise well-brushed mass that reached to the fellow¡¯s belt. The one with overalls had a pack slung over his shoulder, the wooden handles of multiple tools spilling forth from the opening. The other led the donkey, who in turn pulled the small cart. The two staggered forwards, muttering to each other. ¡°Allo? Is anyone there?¡± Mitchell coughed from his spot up in the scaffolding. ¡°Yes? Who are you?¡± The two looked at each other, then the cart-leader gestured the other forwards with an exaggerated gesture. The one in overalls stepped forward twice, then stopped and wavered where he stood. The cart-leader cleared his throat loudly, jolting Overalls out of his stupor enough to continue. ¡°I am Phillipe! Prospector, Miner, and altogether wonderful dwarf! Behind me is my brother Pierre, thoug-¡± ¡°My name is Argon, brother. Show some dignity, we¡¯re supposed to live here.¡± Overalls - or Phillipe - burst out into chuckles. ¡°Yes, yes, apologies Mr. Guard-Man, I suppose that was false. Phillipe and Argon, the d¡¯Argent twins, here at your service!¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°Argon d¡¯Argent? Were your parents into chemistry?¡± The dwarf - now identified as Argon - shook his head, sending his braided beard flapping back and forth. ¡°Non, they were chocolatiers, why do you ask?¡± The Page shook his head, making a quick sign with his hand. The two-dozen Legionnaires behind the gate lifted up out of their ready stance, a bristling wall of spears vanishing in almost an instant. Two others gently removed the bracing bar and set it aside, allowing the gate to be opened on command. While this happened, Mitchell continued speaking. ¡°Curious name is all. You two seem to be a bit¡­ Unique. Can I assume you hold memories of life prior to the tutorial?¡± ¡°Oui! Many more than it seems you have been alived, Exalted Patriarch.¡± Phillipe boasted. ¡°Maybe.¡± He answered non-committedly. ¡°Either way I was hoping to get me a blacksmith to work some metal. We really need a filing cabinet and I can¡¯t really make one myself.¡± That, and weapons, armour, and other things he thought better than to speak of at the gates where anyone could be listening. The two looked at each other. ¡°Erm, forgive the questioning, but is that not putting the cart before the ass, so to speak?¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°How so?¡± ¡°Well, you would have to pay for the ingots, then for the Blacksmith, then for the Blacksmith - I¡¯m talking about the building this time -, then for a craftsman or engineer to create the blueprints for the blacksmith to follow.¡± Mitchell nodded. He¡¯d already evaluated this. ¡°Yes, but buying the ingots saves me at least 40% off the cost of the standard F-grade storage cabinet.¡± ¡°And you need to spend hundreds more on a blacksmith and the materials to train him up to the point of being able to do your work reliably. It¡¯s expensive, sponsoring a crafting profession. We would know.¡± Mitchell sighed. Yet another expense - the farms couldn¡¯t keep sustaining all of their growth, at least not in terms of money. From his and Dalton¡¯s calculations, it would take almost a week to get any sort of usable ore, and that¡¯s assuming there was even copper or tin in the Escarpment. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that we can¡¯t afford you?¡± ¡°No! Not at all. As your town stands now, you could maybe afford to employ a Blacksmith for an hour a day. Luckily for you, neither of us is a Blacksmith!¡± The dwarf puffed out his chest proudly. ¡°As I said, I am Phillipe d¡¯Argent, Prospector, Miner, and altogether wonderful dwarf. Behind me is my brother Argon, both Pyrokinetic and Artificer.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you both. You¡¯re welcome to stay in my village for as long as you like, though you may not build a home inside the walls as Aspirants-¡± ¡°They will do no such thing!¡± Dalton exclaimed, his face red from the effort of running as he panted up to the gate. ¡°Good Morning Patriarch, how are you, hope your morning went well, open the damn gates before they get ambushed this is the greatest thing to ever happen to us-¡± ¡°Whoa there big guy!¡± Mitchell laughed. ¡°Our rules exist for a reason.¡± Dalton took a second to collect himself. ¡°I insist, Patriarch. Grant them my own citizenship if it¡¯s a matter of capacity, but as much as I have helped you, those two will help you tenfold.¡± Mitchell¡¯s eyes widened. Dalton truly had been invaluable, peeling back the veil that covered how the System, Tutorials, and the rest of it worked. ¡°You must know them, then?¡± Dalton nodded feverishly. ¡°Yes, for most of my life, now please Patriarch!¡± Mitchell thought for a moment. ¡°Very well. Dalton, rise as an Inner Member. Do you promote these Aspirants to Outer Members under your newfound authority? Keep in mind that should they commit any crime, you will be charged as if present, for without you they would not be within our walls.¡± ¡°Yes, yes!¡± Dalton looked genuinely happy at his promotion. ¡°You have no idea how much that helps! Guard, open the gates!¡± The Legionnaire¡¯s quickly complied to Mitchell¡¯s surprise. A quick glance through his menus explained it while the soldiers opened the gate. He¡¯d set the military to Outer Members, and as an Inner Member, Dalton outranked the guard. Their new culture stressed listening to the higher rankings, so the military adopted citizenship status into their chain of command. That was something that Mitchell would need to fix soon enough, but for now the list of Inner Members was short enough to not worry, and any Core member could belay nonsensical orders. Things just never got easier.
¡°Does it ever get easier?¡± A red-faced, panting Tiros gasped out as she collapsed, her wand slipping from her fingers and falling into the dirt. Miriam internally gaped at how long she¡¯d lasted, but on the outside kept her face neutral. ¡°The casting itself, yes, the Mana Exhaustion, no. You need to pace yourself, lest you find yourself before a large obstacle and drawing on the last dregs of your stamina.¡± Hands scraped at the dirt, desperately grasping for purchase. ¡°Then I suppose I need to train through this too.¡± Miriam smiled sadly. ¡°Yes, you will. When your Mana runs dry and you¡¯re not done combat¡­ well, people can die. Even if you do it all perfectly, people can die. We are lucky enough - no, strong enough - that by our power and knowledge entire battles can be turned, hosts of foes routed, and fortifications made invulnerable. To allow ourselves to grow complacent in the face of that responsibility would be akin to murdering our compatriots ourselves.¡± A fist formed in the dirt, a pair of arms shaking as they fought against biological processes themselves to push. With what felt like the agony of someone pouring boiling water right onto her brain, the Tiros eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out. Miriam immediately moved forward, turning her onto her side like Sarah had showed her, and sitting down to wait. The rest of her ¡®trainees¡¯ had learned to use the dart-wands, a total of 24 Tiros from the Second Century - or rather, the double-First. This one, a particularly stubborn woman, showed greater interest and capability, so Miriam had placed her in charge and committed to extra lessons. Ezekiel was doing something similar with a different group of recruits roughly the same size, and Miriam smiled when she thought of John¡¯s reaction to having the Second Century be more of a ¡®Ranged Attack¡¯ group. They would definitely survive longer. In maybe a week''s worth of days, the Second Century would be finished, and the Third would begin. After John¡¯s reforms, they had discovered that there were hundreds - no, thousands - more soldiers required for a proper Legion. Miriam considered how she didn¡¯t have that much time. In the Giant¡¯s Shadow (Quest Type: Personal) Your settlement is within range of a terrible arcane contraption hidden in the escarpment, and will be irrevocably changed by its activation. Unfortunately, a careless creature has activated it. In 5 days, the land beneath will no longer harbour carbon-based life. Objectives: Protect your faction (optional) Stop the arcane process (optional) Organize and execute an evacuation (optional) Defeat the Anchorbeasts Restrictions: 3:01:22 remaining Party functions disabled. Party functions were disabled, but she¡¯d asked George to take a look up there for her, and every day dozens of trees were felled from the surrounding forest. The stumps were hacked apart and burned, to remove any cover for the Raccans. Their skirmishers still flung rocks at those outside the walls from time-to-time, but these were tough legionnaires, and they refused to be cowed back inside the walls. The point being, she could now see the top of the rocky escarpment ridge, the colossal formation of stone seeming much larger than it had in her memories. The sun glinted off the mineral, giving the rock face a sort of unmoving majesty in here eyes. Then, far off to the east, another flicker of light - beyond the waterfalls which spilled from the top of the cliff and feel down several watersheds before ending in the river that meandered all the way down to the town. On the other side of this waterfall, nestled against the cliff, she spotted the faintest flash of a reddish light, which vanished immediately and did not return even as she sat and stared at the location for the next ten minutes. She was just about to dismiss it as a trick of the light when caught the flash again, though this time much closer and almost on the very top of the escarpment. It was close to the camp. Miriam¡¯s curiosity got the better of her, and with a faint pop sound, she vanished, on her way to go explore. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
¡°Alright, sell it to me. I mean, I suppose it¡¯s too late now, but still.¡± Mitchell rubbed his temples as he gathered the trio of immigrants by the longpit. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Kyla slipped in and flashed her a grateful smile that she rolled her eyes at. Dalton was the first to speak, and from the looks of the other two, they easily deferred to him. Once again, Mitchell wondered just how important Dalton was. ¡°These two are from Tuurth. Specifically, they are a pair of Artisans that our family has sponsored as we quickly learned of their value. While here, their sponsorship is revoked, so loyalties will not be an issue. Right gents?¡± The two dwarves nodded in agreement, and Phillipe spoke with an eager nod. ¡°Oui, that is true.¡± ¡°Right, but the way you acted out front was like they were made up of S-coins or something.¡± Mitchell dug deeper. ¡°What¡¯s so valuable?¡± ¡°Well, it started with Phillipe. An excellent Miner who picked up a Prospecting subclass - not something to worry about, dual-classes don¡¯t get that option - Phillipe came to the family''s attention when we found him mining in our family''s ancestral silver mine. It¡¯d been abandoned for generations, yet our sentry saw a dwarf emerge with a pack full of ore. We had him followed, and that¡¯s when we found Argon.¡± ¡°See, a Miner-Prospector is about an F-coin for a dozen. I imagine you yourself will have hundreds of thousands of them, when this tutorial is all over.¡± Mitchell¡¯s head spun for a moment before he pushed that daunting reminder away. ¡°However, an Artificer is a Rare class, one that can only be taken by someone who hits the System Age while already E-rank.¡± Argon snorted, but didn¡¯t elaborate. Dalton continued. ¡°So while Phillipe was drawing ore from exhausted stone, Argon was using that ore to create something amazing. Did you happen to¡­¡± The Advisor trailed off, looking at the dwarf hopefully. Phillipe cut in. ¡°Um.. well.. Yes. But it¡¯s not that simple!¡± The dwarf in overalls lifted his hands to stop Dalton¡¯s cheer, while Mitchell grew steadily more confused. ¡°You see, part of our sponsorship was that our creations would belong to your family at the end of the day, right? Well, your sister or cousin or something like that came immediately after you left, to ¡®confiscate¡¯ our baby. So we destroyed it.¡± Dalton froze in horror. ¡°You what.¡± Mitchell slammed his hands against his legs, the metal of his armour clanging loudly. ¡°Alright. This is fun and all, but someone catch me up.¡± The sound went unheeded. ¡°Not all of it!¡± Phillipe exclaimed, ignoring me. ¡°We managed to salvage the co- ouch!¡± ¡°Silence, brother.¡± Argon spoke, before turning to me. ¡°I apologize for my kin¡¯s lack of decorum. We had a tumultuous series of events that led us here. To summarize, my brother and I have a special bond codified by the System. When he prospects for what I need, he¡¯s more likely to find it. When I design my works around his needs, they come out true and efficient. Using this, we developed a machine far beyond what we thought was possible.¡± Mitchell nodded, internally praising the promptitude of the more dour brother. ¡°Which was¡­¡± ¡°An Omnifoundry.¡± Argon replied, the slightest twinkle in his eyes erupting at the name. ¡°Maybe not the most accurate name, but we found ourselves inebriated in our celebration and named it so.¡± Mitchell waited. ¡°Am I supposed to know what that does?¡± Argon blinked. ¡°No, I suppose you would not. My Omnifoundry is capable of separating any inorganic material into its components.¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°That seems useful..? So like, it¡¯ll sort out grit-grades of sand?¡± Argon smirked. ¡°On a molecular level.¡± Mitchell¡¯s frown dropped. His entire jaw did. ¡°To what degree? Say I put in some mud, would it split it into water and dirt?¡± Argon¡¯s smirk grew into a full smile. ¡°Oh? And what is dirt? What is water?¡± Mitchell leaned forward, his mind flying through a list of the resources they had available. ¡°You can¡¯t mean.. It would separate into pure oxygen?!¡± ¡°And twice as much hydrogen, yes. Or we could feed some of that limestone escarpment into it, get ourselves some quicklime so you can build some less drafty buildings.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± The Patriarch admitted. ¡°What¡¯s quicklime?¡± ¡°You can use it to make mortar, if you have bricks to lay. Alternatively it can be used for concrete, agriculture, pest control, even cleaning.¡± ¡°And we just¡­ feed some rock into this thing? Where is it?¡± ¡°That is the unfortunate part. At its native E-grade, it was quite the piece of equipment, roughly the size of our cart. Now though¡­ Well, let''s just say it wasn¡¯t the largest thing we brought.¡± The plans of harnessing the power of gas, of finding oil and feeding it into the foundry, of using it to dissect poisons and chemicals. It all vanished. ¡°Give me numbers.¡± Mitchell asked, almost pleading. ¡°1 kilo an hour.¡± Argon responded. ¡°Damn. Is that output or..?¡± He asked hopefully. ¡°Unfortunately not. Input.¡± Argon responded. ¡°I brought enough refractive materials for a nice efficient bloomery I can teach someone to run while it works.¡± The Patriarch was getting tired of not knowing what things were. ¡°And a bloomery is¡­¡± Phillipe took over. ¡°Well when you mine iron ore, it¡¯s usually still attached to all that other crap in the rock that you aren¡¯t needing in your iron ingot. So, you burn the shit out of it until the iron all melts from the rock. Then you take that iron bloom, beat it out to remove the slag, and you¡¯ve got some workable wrought iron. That¡¯s typically what starting settlements want first - iron has too many varied uses to be neglected for long.¡± ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s like a furnace for ores?¡± Mitchell tried. ¡°I imagine it would have a larger capacity than the Omnifoundry?¡± Phillipe and Argon shared a glance. ¡°Between the two of us, we could create a half-ton bloomery. Keep in mind that would be 250 kilos each of charcoal and iron ore, which would then cook for about 3 hours. We could cut some time out of ingot-making by building a water-hammer to pound out the slag for us. I could run two of them - the bloomeries, that is - but given we¡¯re unsure of the state of the local mine, we jus-¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have a mine.¡± Mitchell admitted. ¡°The more I hear about your settlement, the more I wonder what you were planning to do with a Blacksmith.¡± Phillipe shook his head. ¡°Very well. I can prospect out a location for your mine, though I will require at least a modicum of direction.¡± ¡°That, at least, is a simple answer.¡± Mitchell almost sighed in relief. ¡°To the north we have a military camp within sight of the escarpment. We don¡¯t have the means to actually tell what¡¯s in there, but quite a few of the soldiers have found bits and scraps of what I believe to be ore.¡± ¡°Do you have a sample?¡± Phillipe asked, before sniffing deeply. ¡°No, you don¡¯t, nevermind. Well, I suppose I should get to work. Northwards, you said? Are there any further directions?¡± Mitchell¡¯s mind immediately jumped to Coyotes, the Khanclave, or a Raccan ambush. ¡°Not quite yet. Our holdings are fairly spread out, and the roads are dangerous until we can spare the men to patrol them. Our First Century is done and active. We¡¯re training the Second to act as guards until John gets his class evolution. We can¡¯t guarantee travel until then, so wait and go with either a Legion detachment or a Core Member. Is there anything you guys could do around here to help out until then?¡± Phillipe shrugged and pulled out a prospecting pan. ¡°Extra time in a frontier town beats extra time in a frontier outpost. I¡¯ll be by the river.¡± Argon rolled his shoulders. ¡°Show me to your Head Builder. I will assist them in construction efforts until my own skills are needed.¡± Mitchell blinked before looking to Dalton. ¡°Do we have a-¡± Dalton rolled his eyes. ¡°John is acting as it, and he¡¯s also up north at the outpost. We can figure that out later. For formality¡¯s sake, would you tell us about your skills?¡± ¡°I am a Pyrokinetic and an Artificer. I use these classes together to create heat-and-pressure based devices, buildings, and siegeworks. I also enjoy whittling in my off-time.¡± Argon listed off blankly. An inkling of an idea popped into the Page¡¯s head. ¡°Okay¡­ Alright, can you check out the walls? My fiancee is an Enchantress and-¡± ¡°No such thing.¡± Argon replied immediately. ¡°Enchanter is a gender-neutral term. If she says her class is Enchantress, she¡¯s lying.¡± Mitchell bit back a snicker. ¡°No, it''s just a leftover from our own culture, don¡¯t worry. All of the Core has seen each other''s Statuses. We know who has what class.¡± Argon grumbled. ¡°Very well then, I will see to the defences. Ensure my cart remains untouched - your village would need to be sold a hundred times over to replace my Omnifoundry.¡± Within moments, a pair of Legionnaires were standing in front of the cart with vigilant eyes.
Miriam looked down at the twisted, shimmering mass of almost otherworldly colour. After excavating a fair amount of dirt from the top of the escarpment, she¡¯d found herself looking down at what might have been rock, once, though it now had the dark streak running through it like the fault lines of a shattered piece of prized porcelain. Interspersed in chunks was bits of a reddish grey rock that showed an orangish hue if scratched - she thought it might be some kind of copper - wasn¡¯t it orange? The black web though occasionally shot through with a wave of shimmering crimson, and after a few cycles of this Miriam eventually hit it with her Scan skill. She found herself surprised at the information revealed - typically her scan was useless save for when magic was involved. It was definitely useful for her Enchanting work, but in terms of excursions from the town, it was hardly helpful until now. Emberheart Iron Ore (Ore | Rare | E-Grade) Iron Ore that has been infused with local Fire and Earth energies, reinforcing its structure and giving it an uncanny level of heat resistance. Unable to be forged by mundane means. That told her a fair amount. Her quest directed her to an ¡®arcane process¡¯ and here was some ore that appeared to be sucking up some energy. A few more minutes of excavation revealed that the vein grew bigger further to the north, past the cliff face that looked over the camp. Sounded like a nearby arcane process to her. Casting Earth Dart a hundred or so times to cover up the hole she¡¯d dug, she looked back in satisfaction not five minutes later, her clothes clean and free of sweat. Every ten minutes or so she would stop, clear out the nearby vegetation and excavate again. The process was slow, but by the end of the day, she finished her fourth and final excavation to reveal a 3 foot wide crevasse that stretched down into the darkness. She even shot a Flare down there, but it was unable to reveal the bottom as the spell detonated and hung in the middle of the crevasse.. More importantly though, either side of the crevasse was absolutely covered in deposits of the dark ore, and she watched as a faint red light erupted from the bottom of the crevasse, scouring its way up the walls until leaching into the ore and presumably dispersing into the rock. Then, an earsplitting, otherwordly screech echoed up from the depths, and Miriam only regained her composure five minutes later, when the crevasse had been recovered with dirt from a hasty barrage of Earth Darts. She was shaking, and sweating, and her heart hammered like a drum. Well at least she¡¯d found the way forward.
¡°So you just¡­ drop whatever into the hopper.¡± ¡°Oui.¡± ¡°And it spits out¡­ this?¡± Mitchell asked, currently holding a perfect cube of charcoal roughly ten centimeters in size. ¡°Oui.¡± Argon answered again. The two stood before the small machine, which in its F-grade form looked like a fancy drink cooler with an extra large and cubical drainage plug. ¡°So¡­ did you need anything?¡± Mitchell tried. ¡°To get started that is.¡± Argon looked around at the surrounding buildings. ¡°I will need a workshop to artifice. That is my role here, Patriarch. Not to operate the machines, but create them.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°Of course, we¡¯re looking forward to it. Personally I had an idea for a-¡± Argon spat. ¡°If I had a C-coin for every time someone came to me with a half-baked idea, I¡¯d never have to work again.¡± Mitchell glared. ¡°Alright then. When you are finally taken to the northern camp, design and build an elevator for us to get up the escarpment with. Let me know if you need inspiration.¡± Argon rolled his eyes. ¡°Please. A simple counterweight system would suffice. Doubly so if you plan on using this elevator in a mining capacity.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be correct.¡± The Patriarch admitted. ¡°How do you plan to extract the stone?¡± Mitchell blinked. ¡°Uhm¡­ hit it with a pickaxe?¡± Argon blinked. ¡°We will have my brother set up the mine where he deems best based on his Prospecting. He will then decide how to extract the ores and stones. I will not be forced to live on the frontier.¡± ¡°So we need to cart the resources back here.¡± Dalton spoke up from where he was scribbling on some paper. Mitchell shrugged, still getting used to Argon¡¯s method of speaking. He seemed to jump between topics very often. ¡°That, or expand again, though that¡¯s a bit further in the future. Won¡¯t be a problem if Cliffside is no longer the frontier.¡± ¡°I feel the need to inform you-¡± ¡°That we only have one more satellite settlement available due to our Level Four Settlement? That we are currently at war with not one but two separate factions that will both impede those efforts? Or that we lack the required population to expand to a new area? I¡¯ve gone over the menus, Dalton. I may not know the nitpicky details, but I know enough.¡± Dalton raised his hands in a peace offering. ¡°Fair, fair. I wasn¡¯t insinuating anything.¡± Argon huffed. ¡°Mines count towards that settlement limit. I was speaking of my adamant refusal to live outside of the capital. My needs are varied and best met in a hub of commerce. However, the Omnifoundry would be best placed nearer to the mines. Depending on the distance, either at the mines themselves or at this Camp Cliffside you speak of. From there, finished goods could be distributed to where they need to go.¡± Task after task. Issue after issue. The list of things that needed to be done was growing, their resources to perform those tasks were not, and more and more the burden fell on his shoulders. He would not allow it to overcome him. Mitchell glanced from Dalton to Argon and back. ¡°I¡¯ve got a sudden urge to fight something. Dalton, you think it¡¯s time for the Dungeon? I need to knock something off of my list before it gets too long and that¡¯s the oldest issue.¡± The Advisor frowned. ¡°Could be. Might take a while to get everyone together. Would you bring the Legion?¡± Mitchell shook his head. ¡°Core only. Leave Kyla to watch here and Ezekiel can watch Cliffside. With the Legion, we should be fine to pop out for a day. Get George first - he can get the rest.¡± ¡°At once, Patriarch.¡± The Advisor took off as fast as his vibrant outfit would allow. Argon grunted again. ¡°It must be nice, having both a combat and a crafting class.¡± ¡°Is it still a crafting class when it makes me in charge of people?¡± Mitchell wondered. ¡°Tell me that building a settlement is not a form of creation, and I will call you a spreader of lies.¡± He didn¡¯t really have anything to say to that. The surly dwarf had a point. 36. Clear, Part 1 ¡°This is it.¡± Sarah said. The Healer was well-equipped with her robes, staff, and a few pieces of Legion armour strapped over top of it all to keep the robes from flapping too much. Like everyone else, she had a roughly made backpack slung over her shoulder filled with various preparatory items - spare torches, rations, water, and a few potions. ¡°Hm.¡± Miriam acknowledged, her mind elsewhere. She had a few wands tucked into her belt and a few MP potions in her backpack, but otherwise all she needed was herself. Her robes had also been enchanted - well, the clasp had, as the cloth was incredibly¡­ Miriam shook her head to clear the thoughts. They seemed to crop up more and more, her mind finding some problem to sink its teeth into almost as if hunting stimulation. ¡°Miri.¡± Mitchell warned. ¡°We need you present.¡± The Patriarch had adorned his plate armour rather than his cuirass, and looked imposing in the mass of metal. His steel shield hung from one arm, and the bastard sword was pinned to his waist by the scabbard and belt. Where in the town he was looking around, observing in all directions, now his gaze was focussed and hard. ¡°Lighten up Mitch.¡± George countered. He was dressed in dark leathers, his bow across his back, a hatchet at his waist, and a cat that could no longer be called a house cat given how he¡¯d grown. Nimbus now came up to the Ranger¡¯s waist, his fur dark and sleek, his claws long and sharp. He looked around with eyes that belied intelligence. John grinned. ¡°Yea, lighten up. The Legion¡¯s got things covered. Honestly, I¡¯ve been looking forward to this. We haven¡¯t all fought together in ages.¡± John¡¯s Centurion garb stood out in comparison, though his arms and armour gleamed with the efforts of care and maintenance John put into his kit. The five stood before the swirling blue portal depicting the entrance to the Burning Building Dungeon. Off to the side, a pair of Raccan corpses continued to bleed, only two of the tens they¡¯d killed on their way here. An ambush of Brutes and a Shaman had gotten dicey for a moment, but George slipped through the lines and tied up the caster, letting the rest of the party pick the Brutes apart. Mitchell nodded. ¡°I agree, it¡¯s been too long.¡± With a wave towards the portal, he spoke. ¡°We¡¯re all partied up. Potions on hand, weapons are sharp, armour is tight, Sarah¡¯s got our backs and Miri¡¯s ready to blow up the front. George, if you would?¡± The Ranger gave a mock salute and dove through the portal, Nimbus hot on his heels. Mitchell felt internal satisfaction when he found himself not needing to explain. After about five more seconds, he moved. ¡°Three second gaps after me, John, Sarah, Miri you¡¯re last. Got it?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°Boo, try to leave me an ant or two. I¡¯ve got a new spell I want to try and it needs a target.¡± Mitchell laughed lightly. ¡°Let¡¯s just see if George left anything for any of us, alright?¡± He did not. The rest of the party emerged into an almost familiar entrance cave, the Ranger leaning against the opposite wall cleaning his nails with a dagger made of a dark chitin. A pair of corpses littered the hard stone nearby. ¡°Oh, there you are. Been waiting here forever. Did you guys get lost without me?¡± Sarah marched right up to him and swung her staff, causing George to flinch as she stopped the swing and lightly tapped his torso with the end. ¡°You missed a spot.¡± He looked down, raising his arms and twisting to look before he caught a slight slit in his leather cuirass, down by his side. The cut there was knitting itself closed courtesy of Sarah¡¯s magic. ¡°Huh. I didn¡¯t even notice.¡± Sarah smirked as she looked him over for any other injuries. ¡°That would be because you¡¯re still processing your adrenaline. I only count two corpses, by the way. Don¡¯t tell me a couple warriors gave you trouble?¡± George bristled, and Nimbus¡¯ fur raised up on end. ¡°First off, they were Level 25, and Soldiers, not Warriors. Second, not sure if you noticed, but those guys have spears. None of that ¡®teeth and claws¡¯ nonsense. Third, and I feel like this is the important part, they were chittering something to each other and adapted tactics after my first sneak attack.¡± Mitchell frowned. ¡°Sounds like the Dungeon has risen to meet our level. Are we still in for this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I thought I¡¯d let you all know - I am testing my new spell in this dungeon. Which means not leaving the dungeon before we even fight anything.¡± Miri declared. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m at 34 in Arcane Acolyte. There¡¯s a new skill at the next level, I¡¯m pretty sure, and I want it.¡± ¡°There is.¡± Sarah confirmed. ¡°I¡¯m at 39 in Healer. I¡¯m not sure if you all noticed, but every fifth level takes extra experience to get, but comes with a skill.¡± ¡°Wait, what levels does everyone have? Full spread, if you would.¡± John asked curiously. ¡°I¡¯m at 34 in Centurion, but only 26 in Carpenter Apprentice since the others started taking over more of the duties. So 30 would be my inspected level.¡± Miriam shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m pretty much the same but Enchanter is a level lower than your crafting class, so my inspected level is 29.¡± ¡°Any reason we¡¯re not saying Race level? I¡¯m fine with it, just curious if I missed something?¡± George asked. John shrugged. ¡°Sounds better than Race level to me, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Alright. I¡¯m at 34 with Ranger as well. I see a trend here.¡± ¡°Crafting class?¡± Mitchell asked, to which George winced. ¡°19.¡± He admitted defensively. ¡°I haven¡¯t had as much time to cook and even then it barely gives experience anymore! I did the math and realized I would need to make food for entire days for another level. That, or come across a literal basket of high-grade ingredients to experiment with.¡± ¡°That puts your inspected at 26?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°Sarah? What about you? You mentioned being sure of that skill at 35, does that mean you made it higher?¡± She blinked at him. ¡°No, Mitchell. Unfortunately, we live in a nice world and nobody ever gets- I¡¯ve been healing everyone since day one! Of course I¡¯m over 35!¡± ¡°She¡¯s stuck at 37.¡± John provided helpfully. Miriam perked up. ¡°Stuck? Like you¡¯re not gaining experience at all, or that it¡¯s just a much higher amount?¡± Sarah shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s not like we have experience bars or anything. I feel the same as I always do when I gain experience, but the level just won¡¯t rise.¡± ¡°Do you feel close, at least?¡± George asked. ¡°Honestly, yea. I feel like I should¡¯ve levelled five times over by now.¡± Sarah muttered. ¡°And your crafting class?¡± Mitchell prodded. ¡°First, crafting and combat class doesn¡¯t make any sense. I¡¯m a Healer, which should not be a combat class, and an Animal Handler, which doesn¡¯t involve any crafting at all. Not unless you decide that breeding animals is the same as crafting baby animals whic- ohmygod it totally would be wouldn¡¯t it¡­ Alright fine. But a Healer still isn¡¯t a combat class.¡± John nodded. ¡°We know. Primary and secondary just feel so stuffy, though.¡± Miriam scoffed, but didn¡¯t say anything else. ¡°The level please, Sarah.¡± Mitchell asked patiently. She glared back, though quickly found having a staring contest with a steel helmet was a stupid idea. ¡°18. Same as George - no more opportunity. I don¡¯t even gain experience off the ass anymore - I imagine because he genuinely likes me to the point of me not really needing to handle him. Now spill the beans Patriarch. If you¡¯re gonna grill us you better put up.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°Well, I have the opposite issue. Page of the March is at 22. Clan Leader is at 34. That puts my inspected at 26. Just so we¡¯re clear though - my goal in this delve is to take not one step backwards. I have Strength, Fortitude, Constitution, and Willpower. I can heal someone for up to 50 percent of my total health once a day. I can boost someone else''s stats once per day. I place myself in the role of tank, vanguard, whatever you like to call it.¡± George nodded. ¡°Makes sense. I can run DPS with Miri while Sarah¡¯s on support. John can tank or strike as needed. Miri, you can float between DPS and support.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re doing this?¡± Sarah asked. Mitchell nodded. ¡°Not one step back.¡±
¡°Back, back!¡± Mitchell shouted, his words juxtaposed with his braced position. A sickly red ant with pulsing protrusions threw itself at his upraised shield, and the Page stood strong against it, thrusting his sword deep into the ant¡¯s carapace. There was a blink of a pause, then the ant detonated, red-hot and acidic blood spraying everywhere, landing on his armour and beginning to pit and scar it. True to George¡¯s earlier observation, there were more types of Carpenter ants. The workers, minors and majors, warriors, soldiers, and now these bombers were appearing, the balance of power in the caves seeming to have shifted. These red ants were clearly being forced to charge against the party, and with this detonation, that was the third to die pointlessly. His party bolted back into formation, and Mitchell felt a wave of relief come over him as Sarah¡¯s staff tapped against the back of his armour, then it was back into the fray. George watched out of the corner of his eye as Mitchell was buried underneath the writhing forms of dozens of warriors, John hacking at them with his gladius, often chopping through two or three of them but more streamed in to take their place. Arrow after arrow was released from the Ranger¡¯s bow, though he quickly switched from shooting ineffectually at the pile to firing at the larger ones who¡¯d yet to move forwards, the pair of hulking carpenter ants forcing the fire ant bombers to charge. Giant Carpenter Ant Guard (Major) Level 30 Mitchell had been right. The Dungeon had increased its threat level to match their own. George¡¯s first shot landed, but the second and third were blocked by a chitin shield the size of his entire body. The Guards each had a greatshield in one set of arms; in the other set, a halberd. They stood upright, towering high over the ants below them and allowing them to use a pair of limbs for each of their armaments. George estimated them at 8 feet tall or higher. With a chittering, one of the Guards swept its halberd his way, and a stream of ants diverted from the mass attempting to crush Mitchell and made for him. A quick glance revealed the mass to be made of workers and minor warriors. George leapt into the fray with a grin, drawing out the rapier he¡¯d yet to actually use and his new dagger in his off-hand. Formic Fang - (Wand | Uncommon | F-Grade) Requires Agility 25, Instinct 15 to wield. A dagger made from the chitin of a fallen soldier, this weapon will eat away at your obstacles and overwhelm your foes. Grants boost to attack speed based on Agility Passive Effect: Attacks made with this weapon will degrade the target''s armour by 1% on a successful hit. Later, he would find a better weapon to compliment the dagger, but for now it would work. He met the first enthusiastic ant in the line, and lanced forward with the rapier, arm outstretched. With ease, the slender blade pierced through the chitinous skull and buried itself in an unmoving corpse. George drew it free, slamming his other arm down with the same motion and being surprised when the dagger felt next to no resistance. A quick swish, and two ants were dead, Nimbus¡¯ claws rending a third to shreds. Then there were more, and George fell into the flow of combat. With the front lines occupied and finally stationary, Miriam began to cast one of her newer spells. It was an extensive one, more a cobbling of three spells together, and it would technically compile and cast the spell, but she¡¯d yet to actually test it. Targeting one of the Guards at the back, she built the 14 array spell, her usually wandering mind struggling to focus, to keep all the intricately detailed arrays in her mind''s eye, but the cacophony of battle was much different from her study, and she lost it the first time. With a hint of embarrassment, she reverted to a previous casting aid she¡¯d developed, and color-coded the arrays. It made it easier to keep each work separate, yet still possible for her to overlay them all for the actual casting. A rainbow of colours built from her hands as once again, 14 arrays manifested in the air above her. A quick jolt of MP, and a light-pink bolt shot off, flying almost lazily over the top of the writhing ant piles and striking the Guard in the center of its shield. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Spell failed! Miriam flinched. That wasn¡¯t a notification she¡¯d ever seen before. Quickly determining that it must be due to the level difference, she targeted something else - a soldier who seemed to be off to the side. A set of arrays, a flash of rainbow light, a bolt of pink energy, and¡­ Congratulations! You have invented a new spell never before seen by the System! Reward: 10,000 XP to each spellcasting class. 1 D-coin. What would you like to name your spell? Miriam couldn¡¯t help it. She whooped with joy. ¡°Miriam¡¯s Mindmelter!¡± She shouted, getting ready to cast it again. To the side, a soldier was hit by a bolt of pink light. Most of the ants'' interactions with bolts of light had been painful and lethal; however, this soldier just staggered in place before collapsing to the ground and staring blankly off into the distance. Miriam couldn¡¯t help but giggle as the next soldier she hit did the same, then the next. Bolt after bolt of pink light flew from her hands, and she ignored her MP levels in favour of throwing the new, incredibly effective spell at every ant she could see. Sarah had just gotten into the groove of darting between fights, breaking some ants, healing the party member, then moving on to the next. Then, after a particularly difficult attempt to get to Mitchell, she looked around and saw that the flow was slowing. George stood among a sea of corpses, his bow back out and pointed at the Guards, as if he was content to wait as long as they did. John burst from the bottom of his pile, his shield gone and gladius chipped and bent. Eyes wide and covered in the ants¡¯ blood, he looked like a savage, not like the orderly Centurion the Legion must have seen him as. With his free hand, he held an ant by the throat, and proceeded to bash its head in with the pommel of his damaged blade. Sarah decided not to tell him until after the dungeon that ants don¡¯t breathe like people do. Mitchell staggered forwards, his armour smoking and almost completely worn through in some places from the acid. With another step, the entire right side fell to the ground with a clang, and he looked down at the padded gambeson sleeve that was now the only thing protecting his sword arm. A blink of surprise was all the reaction he showed, as his next step took him closer to the Guards, who continued to watch with idle interest from their position guarding the next corridor. Sarah jogged forwards to meet Mitchell before he could start against the Guards. They had a break, and she was getting fatigued. ¡°Mitch, let me give it a shot. If we keep this up, there¡¯s no way they¡¯ll help us against the fires.¡± He shook his head and responded with a voice hard as iron. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. These creatures aren¡¯t real anymore.¡± ¡°What do you mean they aren¡¯t real?¡± Miriam asked, walking up to join them. She had to pick her way through the battlefield to not trip over the bits and pieces of ant. Sarah¡¯s heart fell. She¡¯d suspected, but¡­ ¡°When we came here the first time, we were pretty much heroes to the carps. Mitchell straight up got carried with honour by their warriors. They should have recognized us last time, but they didn¡¯t. Now¡­¡± ¡°These two are stronger than the Queens were.¡± Mitchell growled. ¡°Which means the Queens have to be stronger too.¡± Miriam finished. ¡°So how couldn¡¯t they be the same? We level up.¡± ¡°The dungeon was a lower level when my Legionnaires trained here. I think what Mitch is saying is that each time someone enters, a new Queen is made to be at their level.¡± John finally dug himself out, though was still covered in gore. A quick tap of Sarah¡¯s staff had him sigh in relief. ¡°Thanks. I don¡¯t think it does any damage but damn does their blood feel weird¡­ and there¡¯s a sentence I¡¯d never thought I¡¯d say.¡± ¡°Precisely. Dalton implied a change if we build the Dungeon Gate - which is why it¡¯s being worked on back home. For this run though, we clear. Completely. Let me know when you¡¯re all ready to continue.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ are we sure those guys will wait?¡± George asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you noticed, but I kinda shot one.¡± True to his words, one of the Guards had an arrow sticking out of its shoulder and seemed to have its gaze locked onto the Ranger. ¡°Yea, see, he¡¯s glaring at me. Sorry, it¡¯s not personal!¡± The Guard slowly reached up with its free fourth hand, grasped the shaft, and broke it between its chitinous fingers, before resuming its guarding stance. George gulped. ¡°I don¡¯t think he likes me.¡± With a sigh, Mitchell tore his eyes away from his armourless arm and back to their enemies. ¡°Well, the encounter is still active - I haven¡¯t gotten any experience yet. So I assume that means we need to get past these guys.¡± There was a beat of silence before George spoke. ¡°Uhm¡­ Mitchell, not to be rude, but I think you should just stand right where you are for this one.¡± John spoke up before the Page could protest. ¡°No, he¡¯s right. Mitch, those halberds are fucking huge. They¡¯re the size of your whole body. There¡¯s no way you could tank one of those.¡± Mitchell sighed again. He felt so tired suddenly. ¡°Can any of you take the hit? Sarah and Miri are out. George, hate to say it, but I saw your stat progression. You might be able to dodge-tank them, but I don''t want to risk it. John, your shield is gone. Doesn¡¯t one of your skills depend on wielding a shield?¡± John muttered something under his breath. ¡°Exactly. So if one of you can give me a valid case for how my role could be done better by someone else, I stay here. Otherwise, I¡¯m going to go beat those two big boys up, and I¡¯d really appreciate some help.¡± Another beat of silence. ¡°No magical abilities.¡± Miriam supplied. ¡°High Stam, High Health, low MP.¡± George rattled off. ¡°Both of them have the well-fed buff, and the one on the right has a disease that will kill him.¡± George let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Oh good, we can just wai-¡± ¡°In 28 years.¡± Sarah finished. ¡°Nevermind.¡± Mitchell felt he might as well use his skill too, and was surprised at the result. ¡°Disposition: Neutral?¡± John narrowed his eyes. ¡°Briefing is filled. Thanks. Looks like they¡¯ll enter a frenzy at half health. It¡¯ll take us a while to get there, and it will be even harder after. Honestly, I don¡¯t know if this is something we can do. Some raccoon looking things are one thing, but there is an eight foot tall ant standing right in front of us. Am I the only one trying not to freak out?¡± Miriam shrugged. Sarah gave John a sideways glance as she continued to heal Mitchell. George waffled his hand in the air. ¡°Meh. I mean, yeah, they¡¯re eight-foot ants. Did you forget I can climb a tree without hands in seconds? I¡¯m not too concerned about height. I can get up there and do some light stabbing.¡± ¡°Ants are supposed to lift a hundred times their weight, and those guys look pretty heavy! One hit, and you¡¯re turning into paste.¡± ¡°Actually.¡± Mitchell responded. ¡°I think not.¡± ¡°Here we go¡­¡± Sarah muttered, and Miriam bit back a chuckle. They did not go unnoticed. ¡°No, come on, just hear me out: George has it right. He can climb a tree with no hands in seconds. What level did you start being able to do that?¡± Mitchell protested. George grinned proudly. ¡°Managed it while we were still living at home.¡± Mitchell¡¯s jaw dropped, then he recollected himself. ¡°Damn. So no more than 10 stat points. What would you say your primary skill for climbing that tree was?¡± ¡°I get it, Mitchell!¡± John interrupted. ¡°I do, I really do get that our numbers are higher so we¡¯re able to do more. I can carry a tree - an entire tree! Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t doubt you know it, John. I doubt you understand it. Hit the wall.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°When¡¯s the last time we got hurt? Like actually hurt? George took an arrow to the shoulder a few days ago. He was fine before he even made it home.¡± ¡°I mean, it still hurt.¡± George defended. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that. Did it stop you from hunting on your way home? No.¡± Mitchell pressed. ¡°What I¡¯m saying is that we have grown John. You aren¡¯t your Legionnaires. You¡¯re leaps and bounds above. I need you to know that.¡± At John¡¯s defiant gaze, Mitchell grumbled. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s put this to the test. My Willpower is over 200. I will not be budging on this. So, Sarah? Get ready please. It¡¯s time John worked out his shit.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t really the tim-¡± Miriam interjected, eyes on the two Guards who stood imposingly by the tunnel to the rest of the dungeon. ¡°No, I think it is.¡± John growled, stepping closer to the Page. Mitchell gave a cold smile. ¡°If you¡¯ve forgotten, my Charisma is high as well. Who knows what I¡¯ve been up to? For all you know, I could be brainwashing you all into following me.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± Sarah said haltingly. Mitchell glanced at her sideways, still squared up with John. ¡°Would you know? Didn¡¯t you think it was weird that you of all people followed me out into the forest that day?¡± Mitchell jerked as John grabbed him by the damaged collar of his armour. ¡°You dragged her out there on purpose?!¡± Mitchell looked down at the Centurion. ¡°Without her, I would have died. With her, there was a chance. Simple math.¡± ¡°Simple¡­ math?¡± John shook, his arm trembling and jaw clenched so hard Mitchell worried he would chip a tooth. Then his vision flashed as his head rocked back, and he felt the briefest swimming sensation in his thoughts, before his vision snapped back to John. The man was enraged, fist cocked to punch again. Mitchell saw people moving, but waved his hand, stopping the party. Another fist crashed into his nose, coming away with a spurt of blood. Likely broken. The pain, the impacts, it all felt¡­ muted. The fist came again, and again, coming away bloodier each time. Within three blows, Mitchell''s eye began to swell. Within five, his head pounded with pain. By the seventh, he could see through the haze that John was flagging. He steeled himself, and spit blood in the Centurion¡¯s face. ¡°Stop holding back, you fucking coward! I took your wife!¡± John¡¯s eyes widened in fury, and with a roar he put all of his strength into one final blow, his entire body contorting as a fist crashed into Mitchell¡¯s jaw. The Page felt a stabbing sense of pain, then another swimming sensation though this one was more like a tumbling than a smooth wave. Then, once he had enough of his mind back to realize what had happened, he found himself unable to move. A blink later, he realized he was quite far away from the group. I¡¯d thought he was strong, but damn did I miscalculate. Mitchell went to say, but his jaw flapped uselessly, sending more rivers of agony into his already hurting system. Yet it felt muted, not as if it were happening to someone else, but as if he was experiencing the moment through a memory. He vaguely recalled Sarah whacking John with the staff, who was cradling his arm. He remembered the other two pointing weapons at him. He remembered her coming over with wide eyes, and a long stretch of poking and prodding with the staff. Then, with a sensation as if his ears were popping, the world came back into focus. The others were gathered around him, waiting expectantly. John looked angry still, though guilt tempered his features. Mitchell spat weakly, blood dribbling down his broken but rapidly healing jaw as Sarah grunted in disgust. ¡°Thee? I ¡®old you.¡± Mitchell tried to say, though he wasn¡¯t sure if it was understood. ¡°Dude, you did like three flips.¡± George noted. ¡°I wonder¡­¡± Almost casually, George gave a couple hops then sprinted at the wall. With two speedy taps against the wall, he found himself high in the air. He tucked in his legs, spinning in the air and landing with a solid stance. ¡°Whoa. Yea, so it turns out I can do a triple backflip.¡± ¡°Yes, and I can work on spells while you all act the fool.¡± Miriam lashed out. ¡°Sarah can pretty much read people¡¯s emotional states like a book, John just punched my fiance into a wall from well over a schoolbus¡¯s length away, and said fiance is so damn stubborn now it¡¯s like a bloody super power. We¡¯ll call him ¡®Nuh-uh, I know better-Man¡¯.¡± Mitchell¡¯s face dropped, hurt. Sarah turned. ¡°That¡¯s a little reductive, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Really? Because I asked Dalton, and do you know what Willpower is generally used for? Resisting mental effects. That¡¯s it.¡± Miriam responded coldly. Mitchell thought about that and his stats in general. True, his Willpower was high. Astronomical, by Dalton¡¯s reckoning. Beyond his alleged stubbornness, Willpower was the stat that directly controlled the rate of MP regeneration. He could recharge his entire MP pool in two minutes, small as it was. He just didn¡¯t have anything to use MP on. All of his abilities were tied to time - Inspire Courage was a once-per-day ability. Lay on Hands had a daily pool that recharged. Aura of Command was a passive that affected those who followed his orders. None of them used MP. True, his Strength was decent at 90. Compared to John¡¯s 190, it was paltry. It was also true that he had a high Fortitude, or at least middling. That was likely the only reason John¡¯s punch didn¡¯t take his head clean off. Yet that wouldn¡¯t actually help him with either of his classes. His Vitality was approaching 100, which would help increase the size of his Lay on Hands pool, but that was still considered middling at this point. The only other stat he had any sort of significant gains in was his Charisma, which was something that had bothered him until Charisma¡¯s effects were explained by his Advisor. Charisma wasn¡¯t mind-control or a ¡°hotness¡± meter. Charisma was closer to gravitas, the attractive force of personality that draws attention. Charisma won¡¯t help you change somebody¡¯s mind, but it will ensure that they actually listen to you when you speak, even if the result isn¡¯t to your liking. In this case, coupled with his Willpower, it allowed him to make something of a scene. He made eye contact with Sarah - it was as easy as levelling his gaze, and within a second, she¡¯d noticed out of the corner of her eye. A nearly imperceptible shake of the head as she approached with her staff, and she paused in her movement, confused. He planted his hands against the wall and with a screeching of metal grinding on stone, forced himself out of the person-shaped indent in the wall. With one hand, he braced his jaw, and with the other, traced its outline while activating Lay on Hands. A soothing, numbing sensation spread out from his finger, and was quickly followed by an itching that faded away. Mitchell rubbed his fixed jaw, noting that it had taken 10% of his healing pool to fix the malady. ¡°Willpower is more complex than that.¡± Mitchell guessed, though a feeling of rightness quickly settled in. ¡°Stubbornness is one part of it, though you could call it determined, driven, or obsession as well. Mental resistance is another part of it. MP regeneration. But that¡¯s three things, all for the same stat. Four, if you count what I just came to realize.¡± George entertained him. ¡°What did you realize?¡± Mitchell gave a bloody grin. ¡°Pain. Morale. Shock. I¡¯m pretty much immune. So like I said before - I¡¯m going to go beat the shit out of those Guards. I¡¯m going to have to do it without stepping backwards. Will you he-¡± ¡°Oh stop being so damn dramatic.¡± Sarah spat out, though she wore a grin that cut the acid of the remark. ¡°You don¡¯t need to ask if we¡¯re with you before every freaking fight. We¡¯re here, aren¡¯t we? Even if my loving husband is a bit temperamentally challenged around you.¡± ¡°Hey-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not his-¡± ¡°Blah, blah, blah, can we get moving already?¡± George complained. Mitchell nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± The Guards still stood tall where they were posted, watching, waiting. ¡°Hold up. Sarah, go ask them if we can come through.¡± The Healer whirled on the Page. ¡°Wow, what a great idea! Good thing I took my undergrad studies in speaking fucking ant.¡± Mitchell remained silent, looking at her expectantly. ¡°What?¡± He arched his brow. ¡°What?!¡± Sarah protested. Mitchell sighed. ¡°Animal Handler?¡± Sarah¡¯s eyes widened and her face flushed red as she whirled around, muttering to herself. She took careful steps towards the two Guards, who looked down on her approaching with interest. ¡°Excuse me, Mr. Ants!¡± Sarah called out. ¡°Uhm¡­ can we go through?¡± The Guards looked at each other, then back to Sarah. One gave a deep chirp that startled Sarah, and she quickly came back to the group. ¡°So uh¡­ no. They think we¡¯re cute, though.¡± John looked around at the scattered carcasses of the ants they¡¯d slain. ¡°Really?¡± Sarah shrugged. ¡°Yea. I get the vibe it was like watching a puppy come up and beg to be let outside.¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°It was worth a try. Did it help with your class?¡± Sarah glared at him. ¡°Yea, I got a level. How¡¯d you know?¡± He shrugged again. ¡°I didn¡¯t. I just remembered you mentioned it earlier, and figured this would be a good spot for a little experience for you.¡° Her glare softened. ¡°Well, thanks. Even if it didn¡¯t work.¡± ¡°Now we do it the hard way.¡± He responded, putting his pitted and scarred helmet back on. ¡°I¡¯ll go in first, get aggro. John, you come in second so they don¡¯t overwhelm me - don¡¯t tank anything, just get the aggro from one of them and then bail. Once that happens, George¡¯s job is to take the aggro off John and kite one of the guards long enough for us to finish the other. Miri, you got the MP for a couple Fire Resists? Figured you could push my armour up then start throwing fireballs without having to worry about burning me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Fire Resist, not Fire Immunity.¡± Miriam explained aghast. ¡°Pain resistance is my entire class.¡± Mitchell answered. ¡°I can deal with some burns.¡± She frowned, but moved forward to place the enchantments. Her frown deepened as she laid her hand on the chestplate. ¡°I can¡¯t. And before anyone makes any jokes, it¡¯s because your armour is so broken, and its tier is too low. It¡¯s just a basic Systemized item, ineligible for enchants.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Mitchell responded. ¡°Well, it was nice while it lasted but I guess it¡¯s finally time to give it up. Change of plans! We take a thirty-minute breather, then go beat up some ants.¡± He began removing the plate armour with Miriam¡¯s help in spite of wrinkled nose. John and Sarah went off to a small rock to sit and chat, and George shrugged and began harvesting meat and chitin from the ant carcasses. Then Miriam told Mitchell something, and the clattering of armour filled the cave as he literally lost his balance. ¡°We¡¯re rich?!¡± 37. Clear, Part 2 ¡°So explain again why we¡¯re not just leaving?¡± George asked idly. ¡°I mean sure, I get you wanna build something, but can¡¯t you just buy it instead?¡± Sarah thankfully saved Mitchell from having to explain it. ¡°Fine, but this is the last time. We want Dungeon Gate. Dungeon Gate is useless until it links to a Dungeon. A Gate is linked to a Dungeon by being cleared by the Gate¡¯s Settlement. Are you with me so far?¡± ¡°Yea, but I know for a fact we didn¡¯t have the Gate when we left.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true. Construction was held up by a lack of stone.¡± John answered, finally able to add something new to the conversation. ¡°Thanks hon. So going back and buying stone would be a good idea¡­ If Kyla, Dalton, and Tommen weren¡¯t all working towards making the cash to do that themselves as we speak. I think the French dwarves are helping too.¡± ¡°Okay. First, we only have one set of dwarves, so the French part is unnecessary-¡± ¡°Always has been¡­¡± Mitchell muttered. ¡°-but it still doesn¡¯t explain why we didn¡¯t just do that before. I mean, we were making shit loads of cash with crops and art before right?¡± ¡°That we were spending on food. Not sure if you¡¯ve noticed, but there¡¯s more people in the Legion than outside of it. Soldiers are hungry folk. Plus equipment, as we still don¡¯t have a smith.¡± John defended. ¡°So how can we afford it now? I mean, besides Miriam lucking her way into being a millionaire.¡± Miriam was busy in her mental model from the looks of things, but Mitchell imagined she¡¯d have choice words at the depiction of luck. She worked hard, and deserved what she¡¯d gotten. Sarah glanced over to Mitchell with a pained expression. ¡°We can¡¯t. Well, we kind of can¡¯t? This part gets a little convoluted.¡± Mitchell sighed and stood, significantly lighter in just the polished cuirass he¡¯d gotten from his class chest. ¡°Alright, this is the last time. It doesn¡¯t even matter if you get it, I¡¯m just trying to be nice and keep you informed.¡± Mitchell drew a circle on the dusty stone. ¡°This is good Ol¡¯ Milltown. We kinda rushed through things, but we were 3rd level during the Raccan event, then we upgraded to the fourth afterwards. Now, we¡¯re looking to upgrade to the fifth, where our Village becomes an actual Town. Like us, our settlement levels and ascends through grades. Are you with me so far?¡± George nodded. ¡°Settlement is level four, we want five. Why are we pushing for it though? We¡¯re doing just fine.¡± Mitchell nodded and drew two shapes in the circle, a square and a triangle. ¡°We are, but soon we won¡¯t be, and we need to prepare for that. Specifically, the jump to fifth level will unlock the majority of our capabilities. Over half of our potential buildings are locked behind level five. Importantly, though, there are two buildings we need to unlock and build as soon as possible: The Mana Spire, and the Siege Workshop.¡± ¡°Okay¡­ Siege weapons and Mana, sounds good.¡± Mitchell sighed, having noticed George was lost again. Or at least, not getting it. ¡°Siege Workshop allows us to start building weapons, yes. The Mana Spire is what we¡¯re going for though - it¡¯s a structure that basically puts a giant force field over our town. Stops spells, projectiles, and we can set it to stop people as well if we¡¯re under attack.¡± He drew a dome extending from the triangle over the circle. ¡°If you don¡¯t have one in the Systemized world, you¡¯re just asking for some mutated bird to turn your clock tower into its new roost.¡± ¡°No more flaming walls.¡± John cut in with more relevant facts. ¡°Stops them from launching anything over too.¡± Mitchell nodded. ¡°With the town safe, we can go on the offensive, take the fight to the Khanclave, then the Raccans.¡± He drew a line from the square out through the wall. ¡°Historically, cavalry was defeated by ranged weapons, spears, walls, opposing cavalry, or sufficient battlefield prep to ensure they couldn¡¯t contribute to battle in the first place.¡± ¡°Alright, that makes sense. I get the push for upgrading. So why are we delaying it?¡± ¡°Because they¡¯ve already begun constructing the Gate and were ordered to be done in three days. That¡¯s why I brought so much food, and why I¡¯ve been absolutely fine with us dicking around here for the last hour. We¡¯re going to time the completion of the Dungeon to coincide with the completion of the Gate - if it works, we¡¯ll come right out in Ol¡¯ Milltown instead of the middle of the forest.¡± ¡°Three days? I could take the money and be back by then!¡± ¡°Yes, but then the Dungeon would take longer to clear and the Khanclave could make a move in that time. As it stands, from what you said there were no motions towards us on their side when we left.¡± George shook his head. ¡°Nope. I didn¡¯t stay long, but they seemed to be patrolling more than ranging into the forest. Something forced them into a defensive stance.¡± ¡°Our math had it at three days for a full force to move between our settlements?¡± Mitchell clarified with John. ¡°Two with my skills and the Legion making a forced march. Three at standard pace. With cav, that could be as low as one for a group of scouts, but I estimate a standard pace march with horse through that forest would also be three days.¡± George nodded. ¡°The tree cover is deep and the path can get real muddy after a rain. I¡¯d say with weather on our side, we might be able to get four days.¡± ¡°There you go. This plan has us performing more duties to upgrade our Settlement in concert with efforts back home, has a low chance of something bad happening while we¡¯re gone, and has a high chance of gaining us levels and loot, which will only improve our odds of making it out of the Tutorial alive.¡± The grim reminder gave pause to the conversation, one the Page quickly filled as he stood and stretched. ¡°Now. My shield¡¯s fixed itself, I¡¯m rearmoured, and quite frankly starting to feel weird - I still haven¡¯t gotten any experience from the last fight, which means this fight has been technically going on this whole time? I say we end it.¡±
David was a simple Farmer. He worked his field with whatever the Core of the Clan asked him to grow. He performed basic fortune rights over his fields, despite the standardized growth rate of a level four farm - all of his own! Truly, the Branch Clan were as generous as they were prescient. His latest batch of crops were soybeans, not something particularly fit for his table but more than enough to make him a few coins selling them to the Market - the Branch asked for no more than their standard taxes, so a large amount of the profit remained his own. Those coins bought him a most valuable commodity: Salt. With his wife, Elaine, one of the hunters that supplemented the town¡¯s food supply - when those dastardly Raccans weren¡¯t throwing their dung about! - the two had managed to gather the coin and ingredients, and had rented out the cookhouse. Normally, David would never dream of something so grand, but Elaine had worked incredibly hard to keep her level up, and it was only because of her that they¡¯d been made Outer Members. He wanted to thank her for everything, and salt was the very last thing he needed. The stew he made was rough, unrefined, and watery, and yet to David it was one of the greatest things he had ever made. Elaine, too, found herself enjoying the stew more so than other meals the pair had purchased from the Market. Little did they know, a fourth-level cookhouse provided small bonuses to the meals crafted within. As the two sat at a small, rough-hewn table in the fading light of twilight, David clasped his hands over his heart and closed his eyes. Elaine was surprised - David was typically a non-theistic man, and Old Milltown was not a place supportive of religion. They would not shun those who worshipped the gods, but they would also lift no fingers to create temples or shrines. This much was known. Yet, as one of the first to live here, David knew that there was power in actions, in history. And so, David prayed nonetheless. ¡°Gunther, saint of heroism, vigilance, and self-determination. Hear my prayer. We ask not for your blessing on hearth, home, nor table. We do not ask you to make our harvest bountiful nor our wombs fertile. We pray that you allow us the just rewards of honest work - that we receive that which we supply. We pray you watch over the community with your vigilant eye. We pray for the Core of our Clan, who even now work towards the uplifting of us all. Blessed be the Branch Clan, and blessed be Old Mill Town.¡± With those words, David looked up and saw his wife¡¯s sparkling eyes reflecting the golden twilight sun. ¡°That was beautiful, darling.¡± She replied, wiping her emotion from her face. She¡¯d put on make-up with her own meagre profits and would not ruin it now!
Miriam¡¯s eyes snapped into focus. ¡°Finally!¡± She raised both of her hands and a set of arrays formed above her head - a bolt of lightning as thick as a sausage beamed forth and impacted one of the two Guards who had been idly watching, sending it crashing back into the smoothed stone of the tunnel behind them. In a blink, George and Nimbus were up, running off to the side to flank. John no longer had a shield, but with the provided time had used his carpentry to Fuse a pair of javelins together into a makeshift spear that he was wielding with both hands. Mitchell and Sarah shared a glance, and she rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Let me guess? ¡®They don¡¯t even know I gave up a quest for ultimate power for them.¡¯¡± Mitchell snorted and smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t need them to know. Just happy everyone¡¯s still eager. Before all this¡­ well, going through half of all this would have broken men twice as hard as us. I¡¯m just proud.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Sarah looked at him oddly, a vulnerable expression on her face, before whacking him on the back with her staff, sending him a staggering step forwards. ¡°Get on up there, tough guy, and get your shit kicked so I can farm you for experience.¡± Mitchell¡¯s smile only grew. ¡°Exactly.¡± Significantly less armoured, his speed was higher than before and he caught up just as John approached the still standing Guard. The ant held its great-shield in between itself and George, arrow after arrow pinging off of the slab. The Ranger kept it up, forcing the ant to keep the shield off to the side instead of between itself and the approaching melee fighters. ¡°John, follow up! Miri, keep the other one down!¡± A pair of wordless shouts echoed back, and Mitchell felt himself teetering on the edge of unthinking combat, the lines and impressions of Weapon Mastery threatening to take over and guide him into a whirlwind of violence. For the first time, he resisted the urge to follow the Mastery¡¯s suggestions. His instincts screamed at him to push forward, slashing the back of the ants supporting leg to bring it down. He advanced halfway and crushed the rim of his shield into the front of the joint, cracking the chitin and forcing the Guard a step back. The ant was itself well-trained with its weapon and sent the massive bladed head crashing down at where the Page stood with a solid stance. Mitchell saw this, and stepped forward under the head, the shaft of the massive weapon coming down beside him. Dust flew up from the impact, and the sound of falling stone clattered across the cave, but Mitchell had found himself in a different kind of focussed state - not lost to the battle, but fully immersed in it. Even as dust obscured his vision, he saw the ant using the now buried head of the halberd as a hold to prevent itself from falling back. Another crash of thunder sounded, and Mitchell had to blink the afterimage from his eyes, a line seared into his retinas for the briefest moment but quickly healing. He had an unbalanced, eight foot ant in front of him. ¡°John, now!¡± Mitchell¡¯s own agility wasn¡¯t low - if George could do it at 10, he could do it at 33. With a jump he hoped wouldn¡¯t have any effect on his Class¡¯ experience gained, he found himself standing on the halberds shaft as it was pried from the ground. Two more steps had him looking down at where the ants pincer-hands gripped deeply into the grip. Close up, he could tell it was some kind of slate-grey wood, wrapped in an oddly translucent cord. However, the ant was still made of ant, and those wrists had a lot of thinner bits to allow flexibility. Mitchell stabbed deep into the wrist with his longsword, the impact causing the Guard to flinch in pain and shake the halberd enough that he was knocked off balance and only saved himself from falling by hanging on to the sword. With a furious chittering sound, the Guard let out a screech and lowered its head to eat the Page whole. John flashed forwards, his own feet tapping up the halberd¡¯s shaft and lunged with his spear, piercing one of the ants eyes and sending its painful flinch into a roaring defiance. With some stroke of physics, or luck, Mitchell found himself flung back around, his feet on either side of the Halberd¡¯s shaft as he took a heavy blow to the groin that knocked the breath out of him and tore him out of his focus. A cramping feeling began to spread, but in a burst of Willpower, he shoved the pain aside. ¡°Hammer!¡± He called out to the Centurion, who had Fused his own spear to the halberd¡¯s shaft to hold on. When the writhing ceased and the Halberd began to swing at the nearby wall - an attempt to flatten the two - John reached out and grabbed the rim of Mitchell¡¯s shield. In the briefest of moments, the two shared a glance, and Mitchell saw a deep, burning fire in John¡¯s eyes. With a grin, he slipped his arm out of the shield''s straps just as John let go of his spear and the two traded places. The airborne Centurion didn¡¯t stop there, using his momentum to swing off the sword and towards the wall a quarter second before the halberd did. John flipped himself over halfway in the split second between release and hitting the wall feet-first. Eyes hard, metal shield held by the rim with two hands, John swung with all of his considerable might. The longsword - the one Mitchell had used in every single battle since he¡¯d gotten his class - shattered in a burst of sparks and light, the force of the impact shoving both of the humans away. They crashed to the ground, the ten-foot fall seeming almost like falling off a curb to their trained bodies. The Guard was much worse. With the injury to its wrist, the pincers hung limply, leaving it unable to grip both the greatshield and halberd. In its anger, it cast the shield aside, the stone slab crashing to the ground with a monumental clatter. Then an arrow streaked in from across the cave and buried itself in the ant''s other bulbous, compound eye, and the Guard finally entered its berserk state. ¡°Shoulda kept the shield!¡± George taunted from his perch between two stalagmites, firing arrow after arrow at the ant. With its eyes gone, the antenna whirled about frantically, desperately trying to scent them out. A glint caught John¡¯s eye as a glass bottle flew overhead, crashing against the Guard¡¯s thorax and bursting in a cloud of dark blue smoke. A glance back showed Sarah with another potion hefted in her hand and staff in the other, racing off to Miriam, who was advancing on the other Guard, hand raised and ready to call lightning again when needed. John¡¯s eyes whipped back forwards as he heard Mitchell roar a wordless battlecry and charge forwards. Unarmed. In an instant, he knew why, and knew it was unavoidable as the battle high twisted and focussed into the command calmness he¡¯d felt at the Battle for Fort Cliffside. They were at their limits, riding the edge of full suppression and utter annihilation. The truth was, their plan had gone so well that not a single one of them had been hit so far. Miriam was enough to keep one down, George kept them both honest, Mitchell and he were to fight and defeat this one, then the next one. Sarah kept them all in the fight. But in reality, it¡¯d taken resources. Miriam¡¯s MP was dropping. George only had so many arrows before he had to start draining MP too, and their effect outside of critical areas was minimal. John had no shield, and a basic Gladius left for weapons. Mitchell had his shield, but it¡¯d been lost when the sword had exploded. Sarah was now burning through potions he didn¡¯t even know she had. They were burning quick, and a quick burning candle would never last the night. He had to finish this, but with what? How? Then, it finally struck him deeply, a fact resonating as observation and logic met. John was more than a roman-themed soldier. He was more than the carpenter, more than the Core Member, more than the husband and the friend and the neighbour. Above all, John was strong. He charged alongside Mitchell, hoping the other man would set aside their arguments and differences long enough to get this done. ¡°Get it to the ground and I can kill it!¡± Mitchell didn¡¯t even hesitate, his trajectory changing just the slightest bit and pace picking up wordlessly. Even as the halberd¡¯s head came whistling down, arrows desperately clattering off the weapon and the Guards arms, a dark bundle of fur leaping from wall to shaft and trying to push the weapon off its trajectory, Mitchell ignored it and spear tackled the leg he¡¯d cracked before with his shield. The halberd came down like the word of an angry god. Dust shot up, more than enough to fill the cavern and send the rest of them into disarray. Miriam lost sight of the Guard she was keeping down. Frowning, she began to fire off elemental darts into the dust, hoping to keep the second Guard down through volume rather than strength - she couldn¡¯t afford to miss a Lightning Bolt, the MP cost would be too high and give the Guard a chance to counter-attack. From back where she was, Sarah saw the second guard stand, her ears ringing after the massive impact. Her mind desperately tried to think of her husband, of their Patriarch, of their fatal last moments, but she had her own Willpower to draw on. She watched as the Guard raised its own halberd maliciously, antennae directed straight at Miriam, who she could tell was unaware of the danger. Pained chittering echoed off the walls from somewhere. Sarah¡¯s gut sank. She could see only one way to save Miriam, and the odds of her even getting there in time were slim to none. Her blindness potions had failed miserably, despite her trying to save them for a trump card. Her bone breaking spell wouldn¡¯t work on the Guards - they would flatten her before she even got close. A crackling sound emerged from the dust, like the splintering of wood. Sarah took stock of her potions as multi-coloured bolts flew from where she knew Miriam still stood in the dust. Basic healing, basic MP and SP, temporary blindness, sleeping drought, and a pitiful speed potion that would increase the consumer''s speed by 1% for ten seconds, then reduce it by 10% for a hundred seconds. Her hands fell limp as she saw the halberd swing down, whistling through the air, splitting Miriam in half as it clanged against the¡­ ground..? A burst of pressure shot out, forcing the dust down the tunnels, clearing the air, revealing the battlefield. Miriam stood with one hand held high, the other holding her book open though the pages flipped madly in the whipping wind. Surrounding her, a pale-blue dome of energy flickered once then shattered as if glass. Her hair was matted down and soaked, and her robes clung to her form. A small trail of blood dripped from her nose, but a manic smile lit up her face. ¡°Come at me bitch! I¡¯m a fuckin¡¯ wizard!¡± She shouted back defiantly, a set of arrays forming over her head before flickering and winking out. Sarah could tell she was low on MP, and again regretted hoarding her potions. The Acolyte fell to a knee, breathing heavily but staring defiantly up at the Guard, who was raising his halberd high, higher, reaching as tall as it could- Then, the Guard crashed back as its allies'' massive weapon slammed into its chest, easily splintering the chitin and sending a spurt of blood and gore flying.
John and Mitchell had not, in fact, been killed by the first Guard¡¯s strike. Setting aside their armour which had yet to truly test, their defensive stats which had yet to be overcome, and their speed and ability to dodge. Set aside all of that, and a single factor ensured their survival. John was strong. As Mitchell performed his best impression of a human missile to break the Guard¡¯s leg, John had stepped forward, braced himself deeply¡­ And caught the halberd by its shaft. It was not easy, his body nearly buckled under the weight alone before the Guard continued to push, but he refused to give in even as his elbows creaked and shook. Then he felt a hand slap against his booted foot, and looked down to see Mitchell prone, an errant boulder having pinned his leg. The Patriarch¡¯s hand glowed with a golden light, pumping John full of energy and healing. They locked eyes, and Mitchell gave an order. ¡°Kill this fucker.¡± He said calmly, coldly, before the glow faded and he had no more healing left to give. However, with the fortune boost that came from the direct order, John¡¯s tactical mind found a way through. John pulled on the weapon, and with only one leg, the Guard began to tumble forward. Then, with a monumental effort, he planted his feet and pushed. The halberds shaft began to flex and bend under the stress, but John would not be halted. He took first one step, then another, pitting his strength against the Guard who seemed to be looking in astonished surprise as it was pushed back. Then, the Centurion gripped, and spun, and tore the weapon from the Guard¡¯s injured pincers. He continued to spin, eyes on the Guard who dove for its shield, but was too late for the ant. John slammed the halberds massive blade right on the Guard¡¯s torso, splintering it into pieces. With a deep breath, he wiped the blood from his face as the exhaustion hit him all at once. ¡°Weapons up, soldier!¡± Mitchell shouted at him, jolting energy back into his veins. ¡°The battle isn¡¯t over yet!¡± John¡¯s gaze followed his pointing finger to see the other Guard up and advancing on Miriam, George and Nimbus doing their all to distract it but failing. With a quick glance at the distance, then the massive weapon still in his hand, he had an idea pop into his head almost as if planted there. ¡°Body, don¡¯t fail me now.¡± John prayed, heaving the halberd that was twice his size with both arms. It was heavy, much heavier than a tree twice its size, but John handled it with great effort, spinning once, twice, ignoring Mitchell¡¯s complaint as the blade flew inches above his head, three times, until the momentum was high enough and he pulled and yanked and heaved and then the halberd was in the air. And then the halberd was in the ant. Experience flowed as horrified laughter broke out among the group. Wounds were treated as the horror was discussed. Tactics were examined and dissected. Potions were revealed, a certain Page finally managed to level and gain a new skill, and there were many shouts of ¡°Come at me bitch, I¡¯m a wizard!¡± which were taken with dignity. Then, they moved forwards. Low on arms and armour, low on resources, low on intel. Yet despite this, united and high in spirit. John, for one, had found himself a new weapon. Pillar of the Colony - (Polearm | Rare | F-Grade) Requires Strength 50, Fortitude 50 to wield. This 12-foot halberd was a gift from the colony to the ranks of the Royal Guards. Made of hardened stone as its blade, with a chitin reinforced slatewood shaft, this weapon also serves as a badge of office. Ability: Unbroken Formation - While stationary or bracing, you and nearby allies gain increased resistance to knockback and stagger effects. This only applies to allies that are stationary or bracing as well. Grants +10 to Vitality.