《Everrain Reincarnation [LitRPG, action, adventure]》


 Chapter 1 - Born in Fire

    Day 1, 7:30 PM


    I gasp for breath, my lungs filling with scalding, acrid fumes.


    Smoke.


    My head swims, but I have enough presence of mind to scan my body and find my chest hurts, my left arm is numb, and my feet are burning. My new body is bound to a stake, its previous owner had died of a heart attack just as the fire was starting.


    Like every time, blue screens flash before my eyes, informing me my body is failing, that my bonuses are applied, and that I once more have a body.


    I blink the whirl of information away and yank my arms with all I have. They are bound behind my back, luckily, whoever burned my body¡¯s previous owner used ropes. They did not nail the victim to the thick beam. This time.


    I am getting so used to death, my first expectation was I would get cremated alive again, but the ropes prove surprisingly flimsy and snap easily enough.


    There is no time for surprise. With teary eyes, I claw into the fire, ripping the burning ropes binding my ankles while the crowd I cannot see, but can hear perfectly well, screams and shouts.


    ¡°The witch is free!¡±


    Am I a man or a woman? An inane thought passess through my mind as I jump off a thick pile of wood and for the first time see my surroundings.


    A light rain drizzles, making me wonder who in their right mind burned witches in the rain. Was it a form of torture?


    The night has fallen, and I am in a meadow, a half-circle of humans staring at me with wide eyes, some fleeing the scene in panic.


    At the front stands a chubby man in clean white robes with red hems and an ankh-shaped insignia, flanked by a pair of men armed with thick clubs studded with metal spikes. The bodyguards are holding umbrellas, safeguarding their bald principal from the sprinkling celestial water, rather than a furious madman jumping out of the fire.


    An honest mistake, someone already dead rarely jumps out of the fire to slam an inhumanly powerful fist into the throat of the man you are protecting. I exact my revenge, instill panic, and confuse potential pursuers all in one strike.


    Chubs Baldie falls down, dropping the torch he used to set the pyre ablaze and clawing at his throat. He is going to die in two minutes, and I am running away before the guards even realize what just happened.


    My heart still beats oddly, like it is seeking a way out of my ribcage, jumping in all directions. This is the first time I have suffered a heart attack without imminent death looming over me, and I have no idea what is the natural reaction, other than dropping dead. I should probably lie down somewhere safe, change my diet, sleep more, and drink less.


    I nearly trip, coughing my lungs out, but I push back off the slick grass with my hands and keep running into the darkness. Thinking of heart attacks naturally made me think of Her. I thought the weeks of constant dying, pain, and misery had helped me move on, but apparently as soon as I have some chance of staying alive, my thoughts drift to her.


    Will I find you here, Manuella? Will you be my goddess again? I swear I have learned from my mistakes. I would destroy the world to find you.


    Right¡­ That last thought clearly means I have not learned my lesson.


    I reach the edge of a forest, the rain grows weaker, then stops entirely, probably obscured by foliage, if the tapering sounds from above are any indication. The darkness is so absolute that not even my night-vision can pierce it, so I slow down, and stumble forth with arms in front of me.


    The tree trunk I touch is soft, and I take a moment to realize a layer of ooze is covering it, ooze which burns my palm. I jump back, flailing my arm and sending a shower of goo into the darkness.


    Caustic vine, strangles other plants and melts them for nutrients. It poses little danger unless you ingest it or get some in your eyes.


    The thought is alien, implanted into my mind directly through BSD, like all skills. I sigh. The night is dark, this forest has caustic flora, I have no desire to meet its fauna, and I have no idea where I am.


    F one, I summon the Blue Screen of Death.


    [Name - Fyoor EnchantersonThe narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Class - herbalist level 8


    Health 10/15, Strength - 13, Agility - 16, Physique - 15, Wisdom - 25, Intellect - 29, Willpower - 23, Presence - 19, Charisma - 20, Composure - 22


    Abilities - Literate, Advanced Calligraphy, Initial Arithmetics, Advanced Herbalism, Advanced Healing, Initial Focus, Initial Appraisal, Initial Woodland Sense, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Poison Tolerance, Master Rider


    Attribute points remaining - 0


    To level up, cure a patient who suffered from prolonged contact with poisonous plants


    Statuses - Ill, Tired, Wounded ]


    Thank the Lord of Light I am literate this time.


    I grope myself between my legs.


    Mister Fyoor, you have neglected your body, but your brain is stellar! I think I have never had such high mental stats.


    What does Ill do?


    [Ill - reduces all your attributes by two]


    Huh? I have never been ill before, the condition is tough, twice the penalty from Tired, but that means my stats are even better than expected.


    ¡°Fyoor, did you collude with a demon?¡± A chilling female voice says from the dark to my left.


    I check Redo countdown, it says seven days and three hours. I cannot die now, otherwise who knows how many times I will die before I get another chance.


    ¡°I colluded with no demons.¡± I keep my voice calm, but cannot help the raspiness from swallowing smoke. Meanwhile I wonder whether demons are something made up by these savages or an actual type of entity that you could collude with.


    Hopefully the former.


    ¡°How did you get strong enough to escape your bindings?¡± she asks, her voice no less tense than it was a moment ago. ¡°Why did you kill the priest?¡±


    Because he killed the guy whose body I got, and I wanted to avenge him at the least? And they tortured me or beat me, if my aching body is any indication of things that had happened. Besides, leaving future pursuers alive is not my thing.


    ¡°The ropes caught fire, so it was easier to snap them.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound like Fyoor.¡±


    ¡°I just jumped out of a fire, woman, give me a break.¡± I bluff, but she is not buying it.


    ¡°What is my name?¡±


    Well, that question annihilates my cover in four words. My thoughts jump from a doomed, if honest, ¡®I have no idea,¡¯ to threats and violence, but I do not know who the woman is, she might be Fyoor¡¯s wife for all I know.


    I break the silence and settle with, ¡°I have no memory of you. I jumped out of a fire, and saw a man who obviously lit it intending to kill me, so I struck him before escaping.¡±


    My charisma is more than decent, I use it, exerting my will and beliefs upon her the way I have learned to do to convince others of my words.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a load of toadstool.¡± And sometimes, charisma simply fails, because the task is impossible. ¡°One last time, tell me who or what you are, or I will turn you to ash.¡±


    I could drop down and pretend I fainted. The thought is foolish, and I abandon it immediately, I will never place my life in other¡¯s hands like that. Instead, I wave my hand towards her.


    ¡°What are you doing? Don¡¯t move!¡±


    She can see in the dark.


    ¡°I do not believe¡ª¡±


    Before I could finish my sentence a ball of fire slams the ground three yards away from me. The brilliant flash blinds me, shocking me for a different reason.


    Magic?


    Maybe a flamethrower?


    ¡°Magic?¡± Blunt stammers. I thought I had tamed it, but apparently it was waiting for my focus to slip.


    ¡°Who Are You?¡± She emphasized every word. It was the last warning I would get, my last chance, maybe the last words I hear in this life.


    ¡°I am not a demon. I am cursed. Fyoor died, and I took his place.¡± If she has magic, and some magical way of detecting the truth, then every lie could end my life. Better to play it safe. The worst thing that could happen is I die another agonizing death, followed by countless others until I grasp my chance.


    A second passes, then another. I still live, the soggy ground stopped burning, and green and red blots dance in the darkness of my vision.


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯re sticking with?¡± she asks, her tone is dubious, but she is not shooting fire at me, so I guess I am heading in the right direction.


    ¡°My curse is to inhabit dying bodies and die their death again. This time I got lucky and escaped the fire.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh, and who cursed you like that? Was it the wormlords?¡±


    ¡°I do not know who the wormlords are. The one that got me was the god of death or someone similar, I lost my temper and slapped her.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh?¡±

 Chapter 2 - Tea and Grub

    Day 1, 11:30 PM


    ¡°Is this really food in your world and not a prank?¡± My gaze drifts to the thing which at a casual glance might pass for an oblong biscuit glazed in white chocolate, if the person in question did not have Initial Appraisal.


    ¡®Fried honeygrub.¡¯ That is what BSD implants into my mind when I glance at the grub. The fact that she brewed the tea from a non-poisonous mushroom, good for the heart and pacifying the colon, is another information I have, and combined they are making me question the world I have reincarnated in.


    ¡°Honeygrubs are a delicacy, I¡¯m a master at roasting them just right,¡± the youthful-looking hag boasts and takes a juicy bite of the thing.


    The crisp sound of thin chitin snapping like chips is mildly disgusting, but it matches a witch, which is how Edna labeled herself. Despite her obvious age and the wisdom in her eyes, Edna¡¯s face is free of wrinkles, her hair snow-white, her smooth, supple skin as white as that of an albino.


    I have not eaten anything as gross in centuries, and bugs have devoured me alive once in the past few weeks, but I take one grub and chuck it into my mouth without closing my eyes.


    My teeth sink into it, and true to its sound, the sensation is like biting into chips. Beyond the crispy surface lies a land of honey, melting in my mouth.


    ¡°Lord of Light, this tastes like something a royal chef would kill for.¡±


    ¡°You really were a king?¡± The smiling hag leans back into her comfy armchair, her dark violet dress sparkling in the candlelight.


    ¡°I was.¡± I confirm with a charismatic smile, to which the witch seems immune. ¡°Are you really two hundred years old, with that face and those hands?¡±


    ¡°Naturally,¡± Edna smiles back. ¡°Healing magic can make you nearly immortal unless an abomination dismembers you. The only problem is the growing insanity as your brain gets crammed with too much knowledge and memories. How did you get around that? Assuming you really are over twelve hundred years old.¡±


    ¡°I think I forget.¡± I honestly have no idea how else to answer. ¡°And I think I have gone insane at least twice. I know I have spent at least a dozen billion years in hell, but now it seems like it was half an hour at most. And you really believe me when I say I see a floating blue rectangle telling me stuff?¡±


    ¡°Everyone who enters the dungeon can see the Guide. But it should be a sheet of gold with black letters. You mentioned going insane?¡±


    ¡°I will not talk about it.¡± I am not yielding on that. I can exchange technical information with a spellcaster powerful enough to incinerate me, but I will not dissect my personal life even if she threatens with the said burning. And she has not made such threats. Yet.


    ¡°That is a private matter between me and my significant other. It will not further your cause.¡± I cross my arms and project my firm resolve with every shred of my being. While I am willing to reveal information more valuable than what I learn, I have my dignity, and dying merely means weeks or months of inhuman torture and despair until I grasp another chance.


    And if I do grab enough chances, if I grow powerful enough, maybe I could find my loved ones, and tear that petty god to shreds. If a god can be petty, why can¡¯t I?


    ¡°I won¡¯t force you if you don¡¯t want to discuss it. What about forgetting things, can you talk about that?¡±


    ¡°There is little to discuss, really.¡± I take another honeygrub, less disgusted by the tiny, charred legs than I was a moment ago, and chuck it into my mouth. ¡°I think it¡¯s like what happens to old people. Things become a blur, then vanish, others merge into one coherent, but ultimately false memory, and I cannot really tell which is which, nor what I have forgotten. For instance, some faces of people dear to me have faded while four generations of an old acquaintance¡¯s family have merged into a single face. It could be the limitation of the flesh, or of the soul. I do not know which.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    She is obviously unhappy with my comment, but I can only smile. Laugh away the pain, the madness, and the solitude.


    ¡°Ironically, there are some memories that transcend time and space, which I still recall. I think I was three or four years old when my cousin beat me up and took my trike. I cannot remember her face, but the sound of her laughter still grates my ears.¡±


    ¡°What is a trike? A toy?¡±


    ¡°A tricycle, like a bicycle, with three wheels.¡± She gives me an empty stare. ¡°A very inefficient tool for transportation, suitable for children, made of metal bars, gears, and three wheels.¡±


    The conversation draws into a lull. She is either thinking about what I said, or trying to visualize what a trike looks like. I take the chance and sip on the mushroom mud-water.


    The room is cool, making the steaming beverage look deceptively hot, when its temperature is already lukewarm. It tastes like bearberry, with an added sour-sweet note.


    ¡°What is your blue Guide like? What does it say?¡± Edna asks the question I was waiting for all along as I place the empty clay cup on its saucer.


    ¡°A lot of things. My name is Fyoor Enchanterson. I am a level eight herbalist, somewhat beaten up, I can see my attributes, abilities, level up condition, and temporary statuses.¡±


    Edna¡¯s pupils widen, her mouth opens a crack. She¡¯s interested in something, but she regains her composure almost immediately. ¡°Can you tell me your statuses and their effects?¡±


    Her demanding tone has changed ever so slightly, tinged with curiosity and yearning. I pretend I have not noticed her tells and answer the question.


    ¡°Sure. Ill, minus two to all attributes, tired, minus one to all attributes, and wounded, strenuous activity may lead to loss of health.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Those are the same penalties as the ones shown by the Guide. What are your attributes?¡±


    I fire a string of numbers, and she chokes on the grub when she hears my wisdom and intellect. Godly, Insightful, and Precise add quite a few points onto Fyoor¡¯s already impressive mental attributes.


    Mild choking, pat on the back. BSD intrudes on my mind, but I see no reason to move, Edna is obviously fine, albeit with some honey-tasting goo in her lungs. Instead of making needless, potentially threatening gestures, I continue calmly.


    ¡°My guess is the human average is ten.¡± She nods in affirmation as she reaches for the tea and gulps down a mouthful.


    I ignore a tiny voice saying she should not consume any liquids until she clears her airways, and consider the implications of naturally having more than twice the regular human attributes whenever I reincarnate before finally realizing that without this particular boon, I really would have just spent an eternity constantly dying other people¡¯s deaths.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way those are Fyoor¡¯s attributes,¡± Edna states the obvious, her eyes red, but a faint glow washes over her, and the wetness recedes, and the blood vessels return to normal. She no longer needs medical attention.


    ¡°I have received certain boons together with my curse. It would have been no fun if I just dropped dead immediately. No suffering, I guess.¡± The statement is a pure guess on my part, uttered to obscure the truth, and I pick up another honeygrub to distract her. ¡°Vengeful little buggers, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Her scowl says I managed to throw her off her train of thought, but she quickly recovers by following another.


    ¡°And the level up condition?¡± She is trying to act nonchalant, but I can tell this is what she is after. Her pupils are dilated a tad, like a predator examining prey, her voice is slightly cracked, her mouth salivating a bit too much.


    Yearning.


    My higher stats will take some time to get used to, but they allow me to examine her, think of what is happening, and reach a logical conclusion.


    ¡°I need to cure a patient who has suffered from prolonged contact with poisonous plants to reach level nine. The Guide you mentioned does not provide this information, does it?¡±


    She stares at me, and I have finally found some real leverage over her. Leaving my fate up to her curiosity rubbed me the wrong way, but now that I have some immediate and long-term value, it¡¯s highly unlikely she will kill me. At least as long as I remain valuable, but that might be a long, long time, if she plans to do what I think she is planning to do. By then, Redo will reset, and I will be the one in control.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t,¡± she admits. ¡°Maybe the archmages didn¡¯t know how to access that information, maybe they wanted to keep the knowledge to themselves, but whatever the case, if you are telling the truth, you have a unique advantage in this world.¡±


    It didn¡¯t occur to me she would think I am lying, but it¡¯s logical, and it means she can¡¯t read me completely. An interesting, useful fact. As for proving my words, that¡¯s a trivial problem.


    ¡°Do you have a patient suffering from prolonged contact with poisonous plants? It could be a chicken for all I care.¡±


    The teacup approaching her mouth freezes, and she arches her eyebrow.


    ¡°What¡¯s a chicken?¡±

 Chapter 3 - The Guide

    Day 2, 5:30 AM


    Every world has its quirks. Some have chicken, some do not. Some have griffons, some do not. Some apparently have perpetual rain.


    ¡°You mean it never stops?¡± I ask, and turn away from Edna, preparing breakfast. Things she is using, and things she is doing to them will take some getting used to.


    ¡°How could the rain stop?¡± The shock in her voice is amusing and concerning at the same time. How does a world and life evolve if the rain always falls? For one, there is no chicken and human skin is so pale it is nearly translucent. I have noticed it before, but refrained from commenting, Edna¡¯s hair is incredibly greasy, and I think the same was true with everyone around the pyre.


    ¡°It gets weaker during summer,¡± she continues, ¡°and traveling during winter, when the rainfall is at its strongest, can be dangerous, but there is always rain.¡±


    ¡°How did you invent fire when everything is wet? Why bother getting out on land?¡±


    ¡°Fire is the first magic. The beacon in the dark which gathered people and gave power to the first mages. Also, what does getting out on land mean?¡±


    They obviously have no clue what evolution is and how it works, but that tidbit is irrelevant. I glance around her tiny hut again. The building is made of dry, leathery leaves, much thicker than any other I¡¯ve seen. It has hardly enough room for the two of us. Its sole chamber is everything, a kitchen, a dining room, a bedroom, and probably much more that I cannot perceive at the moment.


    ¡°You do not seem to have a flock of minions to do your bidding,¡± I point out the obvious, and she scoffs.


    ¡°Things were different when I was young. Mages and magae were respected by their communities, the descendants and students of protectors who imprisoned the wormlords, but a century and a half ago the Church of Holiness rose to prominence. They have existed for centuries, baiting the weak with the promise of an afterlife and threats of what happened upon death if you did not follow their orders. Our ancestors ignored them, but somehow their cult exploded with believers, sweeping through the countryside, riding on the tide of monstrous worms.¡±


    At some point, I must have turned around to watch her, my gaze glued to her face, staying away from what she¡¯s doing with her hands. She looks up, staring into my eyes with those irises so light blue, they were almost white.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean they were actually riding the worms, but they used the chance as the last surviving wormlord attacked. Their numbers swelled as mages left to combat the danger for almost a decade at a bloody front, which decimated us. I was a nurse, near the horrors, but not quite there to see them.¡±


    A haunted shadow flashed in her eyes, the look of someone recalling best forgotten. A survivor from a meat grinder.


    ¡°When we returned, the priests had whipped the people into a frenzy. They had captured our weaker students and¡ª¡± she trails off, but I understand what had happened. Rebellions and coups almost always rely on severing the old ruling bloodline without mercy. Otherwise, the risk of failure and reemergence of the old regimen is too high.


    ¡°Some left, vowing never again to help the fools who betrayed them, others took more direct measures against the zealots. A lot of people died, and now mages and magae are witches, persecuted by the church for slaughtering the faithful.¡±


    ¡°Is that why they burned Fyoor in the middle of a field?¡±


    Edna nods, then shakes her head. ¡°Yes and no. People have been living in bastions of stone for over a hundred years, sending out gatherers to bring food and resources from the dungeons in which the wormlords are imprisoned. Fyoor was one such gatherer when he was young, but he saw the truth, that the people were enslaved through fear and lack of options, that they live to serve the priesthood and nothing else.¡±


    Her words slow and stop as she lowers her gaze and focuses on the grub. She kneads something over and over until the crunching stops and she turns it into something resembling dough.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°He was a friend,¡± she whispers. ¡°Fyoor, I mean. The inquisitors do not allow anyone to live outside the settlements, and they burn such people as heretics. I could fight them, but they would keep coming until they got me. It¡¯s wiser to leave.¡±


    ¡°But you remain here because?¡±


    ¡°Because my mother¡¯s grave is here. Father told me to take care of her, two days before an elder abomination tore him to shreds.¡± Her voice shakes, and I stay quiet. Whatever an elder abomination was, it must have been horrible. Especially given what they consider food and eat without flinching.


    She keeps kneading, probably with more force than necessary and much longer than she should have, since the yellowish dough¡¯s texture remains the same even as minutes pass.


    ¡°Both your parents would have wanted you to leave this place and lead a happy life,¡± I break the silence. ¡°I can tell you have no children, but I have had some. Trust me, parents don¡¯t want their kids sticking around a withered skeleton or a slab of stone or whatnot. We are the happiest when you are out there making babies of your own.¡±


    I clamp my mouth shut. Damn Blunt strikes again.


    At least she stopped kneading, and she is glaring at me with her mouth cracked open.


    ¡°You do know you are speaking from my friend¡¯s corpse.¡±


    ¡°My body is not a corpse, you have confirmed that before healing my burns, and the arrhythmia is almost completely gone as well. I just need to rest and eat a bit, and I will be in top shape, better than Fyoor ever was in fact.¡±


    Her face turns sour. Yet again, I allowed my tongue to gallop ahead of my thoughts, and as much as I would like to, this time I cannot blame Blunt on my nonsense.


    Manny told me to think before I speak and to think better thoughts. I thought I had changed, and I certainly have improved, but I guess it will take years or eons before I conquer myself and become what I can be. What she believed I should become.


    ¡°Sorry about that.¡± I should at least try to fix any unintentional slights I have made. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the loss of your dear friend, and if there¡¯s anything I can do for you, let me know.¡±


    ¡°After breakfast, you will prove to me that you can level up at will.¡± She recovered way too quickly from a sudden bout of sorrow. That and she is patient enough to delay her experiments until after eating. She is cold and calculating, and I may have fallen for her trick. Then again, leveling is also in my interest, but unlike my past life, I am going to put points into physical attributes, or maybe I could hoard them and exercise to improve my body first?


    ¡°How do attributes change over time?¡± With her sorrowful reminiscence and possibly pretense over, I can ask about things that interest me.


    ¡°They drop as your body grows weaker. But you can increase them through delving into the wormlords¡¯ dungeons, exercise, and leveling. There are also certain elixirs grandmaster alchemists can supposedly make, but I don¡¯t know what happened with the entire alchemist caste since the church took over. Given the church¡¯s overall tendencies, the only alchemists around are people like me, living in the wilds, beyond the inquisitors¡¯ reach.¡±


    I nod, analyzing Edna¡¯s words, but we keep going round in circles around the subject without getting a clear definition, even though it¡¯s tickling my imagination the most. Since indirect questions have failed, I shall be blunt.


    ¡°What are dungeons? Prisons for wormlords, but they seem to be more.¡±


    ¡°Dungeons are a powerful magic, the most powerful magic. They keep the wormlords bound, yes, but they do much more. They slowly sap their incredible vitality to produce flora and fauna unique to dungeons. Dungeons also bestow the Guide to people who enter them, but from what you said, the Guide might exist in everyone in a dormant state.¡±


    Edna wraps her tormented dough in some leaves and buries the parcel under the shimmering coals using a metal shovel with a bizarrely long and thin handle.


    ¡°You know, that kind of makes sense,¡± she continues after piling the coals in a conical shape she found adequate. ¡°Everyone believed the Guide was an incredibly powerful magic, which altered the fabric of reality, but if it simply lets you see what is already there, then it¡¯s both greater and lesser than we thought of it.¡±


    She has no idea how great it is, especially if¡­


    ¡°What happens when you level up?¡± I ask, thinking about that message the BSD always shows when I level up.


    ¡°The Guide appears and informs you that you have leveled up. You have twenty seconds to select one of two skills or you get one at random, and you get an attribute point you can invest in any one of your attributes whenever you want.¡±


    I gulp. ¡°Whoever made your Guide was a genius. BSD gives you a minute to pick your skill and assigns one at random if you do not make a choice yourself.¡±


    Being able to choose, focus, and specialize would give a huge advantage to those with a Guide, and if my guess is correct, people without it can¡¯t assign their attribute points, which makes it an even more powerful tool.

 Chapter 4 - A Slimy Patient

    Day 2, 8:30 AM


    ¡°These slugs and caterpillars are all poisoned, slowly dying from nibbling on my temeronias. The plant attracts insects, slowly poisons them, its toxins making them hungrier, and after they die, it uses their decomposing carcasses as food.¡± Edna gestures at an oversized blackish cabbage on a stick that stinks like someone¡¯s socks have crawled inside the folds of its leaves and died.


    BSD tells me it can be used to treat the loss of appetite and abdominal cramps if ground and served in boiling water as thin broth. The soil beneath the plant is littered with results of eating it fresh. Dead grubs and caterpillars of varying sizes, ranging from the length of a fingernail, all the way to the massive ones as big as a hefty sausage form a small mound around the stem.


    ¡°What do these caterpillars grow into?¡± I indulge my curiosity, a world of infinite rain should have trouble fostering insects like butterflies, and as expected, Edna looks at me like I am stupid.


    ¡°Into bigger caterpillars. The mutated beasts wormlords controlled had maws bigger than my hut. That¡¯s the reason I find the church¡¯s castles so laughable. Their petty rock formations may keep the regular mutated fauna outside, but a fully evolved three-maw destroyer can bite its way through solid stone with little difficulty.¡±


    ¡°What is a¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop talking. You said yesterday you used your chicken abominations to level up, I see no reason you can¡¯t use a meaty clowex as a substitute.¡± Edna points at a particularly big, particularly nasty slug-like thing grazing on the temeronia¡¯s leaves.


    Since it is not a plant, my skills only confirm that the creature is called clowex.


    ¡°Can I just pick it up? What do I do with it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a clowex,¡± she says, as if that should explain everything. ¡°It suffers from an ingested poison, and it¡¯s been exposed to it for days now. You just need to provide an antidote.¡±


    My medical knowledge does not help explain how to detoxify a slug half the length of a human arm. However, I do know that a poison meant to be swallowed is unlikely to harm me when I simply touch its victim.


    ¡°Right.¡± I grab the slimy thing and pull. There¡¯s a wet pop, and I can see the patches the clowex had grazed on. They have more jagged edges than what I recall slugs leave in their wake, so I turn the pale-green creature in my hand, revealing a pair of thin, long slits filled with countless tiny barbed hooks. Even in the dim light of the rainy day, the bits of black cabbage leaves are obvious against pale flesh and white teeth.


    The clowex¡¯s double jaws mill them industriously, and I realize just how strange this world¡¯s fauna is.


    What is this world even called? And how do you cure temeronias poisoning?


    ¡®Clearia,¡¯ my brain answers the latter question, and I even remember passing the plant whose name and properties I did not know until just now. I hate how BSD messes with my brain and thought process.


    ¡°What is this world called?¡± I ask while turning around and heading for the hut¡¯s entrance, a voracious slug in hand. Clearia is good at nullifying the effects of most common plants, and competent gardeners grow them within easy reach. That is the knowledge I did not have until a moment ago, and now it feels like it has always been there. Disgusting.


    ¡°Everrain,¡± Edna answers my question and follows behind me. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    When we discussed my level up condition last night, I paid attention to several details. The patient must be one that has suffered from poison for at least a day or two for me to consider it prolonged, and while there is no direct indication of it, I need to cure the patient, almost certainly alone. Knowing what kind of a bastard BSD is, that probably means every step of the way, including coming up with a treatment and doing all the trivial labor.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to ruin one of your clearia shrubs. You have eight, so one should be an acceptable loss for science.¡± Edna does not object, so I keep walking towards her healing herbs.


    ¡°I have over seventy clearias, and how do you know what a clearia is, but not what a clowex is?¡±


    ¡°Fyoor had Advanced Herbalism, but nothing which would help me distinguish between creepy crawlies.¡±


    ¡°Clowex aren¡¯t creepy,¡± she defends the disgusting slug with more zeal than I would¡¯ve expected. ¡°As for treating¡ª¡±


    ¡°Edna, I will have to ask you to refrain from giving me suggestions about healing the poison. Even if my methods are wrong, there are plenty of bugs on that temeronia.¡± I am about to ask why the bugs only munch on the outer leaves instead of devouring the whole thing, but the information immediately enters my brain on its own.


    Temeronias only have three layers of soft edible leaves, the buds beneath are as tough as rock, inedible both to insects and humans. With my brain answering my own unasked question, I change the topic.


    ¡°BSD filling my head with answers to my questions is like a violation, but I recall how it used to correct my movement whenever I employed physical skills. Does the Guide do that too?¡±


    Edna nods. ¡°That happens when someone acquires a new skill through leveling up, but they get used to it eventually. The skills you acquire with practice don¡¯t work that way.¡±


    They do, but the manipulation is more subtle. You only notice it if you try to do something wrong intentionally.


    I reach the nearest clearia and dump the clowex on it. The mollusk, probably, makes tiny slurping noises before I hear it tearing at the leaves.


    ¡°There, now we wait.¡± I say, gazing at my ¡°patient,¡± and then another thought crosses my mind. ¡°Are clowex allergic to clearia or is it poisonous to them?¡±


    Edna shakes her head. ¡°If you put obviously poisonous food before an animal, they won¡¯t eat it. Your solution should work, clearia cleanses most poisons, including temeronia. We just need to give it a couple hours.¡±


    So, I have a couple hours to kill. ¡°Do you have a staff, or a long, straight stick? Any other weapons?¡±


    Edna raises her eyebrow, such a familiar gesture, but the playful smirk is nowhere in sight.


    ¡°I have magic. I need no weapons. But I have plenty of poles for my garden, why do you need one?¡±


    ¡°To recover some of my combat skills, Fyoor was as able to defend himself as a sickly child, given his strength and obvious lack of physical activity. How did he even survive in the wilds?¡±


    ¡°He healed people who lacked the money to pay the church¡¯s healers. You could chop wood for him, bring him food, or anything else. He hardly left his hut unless he went deeper into the forest to gather herbs.¡±


    A foolish way to live his life, relying on others with no power of his own, but I guess not everyone expects hostility and death lurking behind every corner.


    ¡°You must have an ax, if you chop wood.¡±


    Edna waved a hand, and a log resting beside her hut¡¯s door snapped cleanly in half.


    ¡°Never mind. Do you carry them, or does magic solve that as well?¡±


    ¡°I could use magic, but negating gravity is expensive, and rarely worth the effort. It¡¯s easier to carry them.¡±


    Gravity. They have a word for gravity. Arborean civilizations, in the previous world I reincarnated in, had made next to no scientific advancements, and I offered none. Turning that lush green world into a replica of polluted Earth seemed like a crime. These people, however, have explored the secrets of the universe. Unfortunately, I have no idea how much physics, mathematics, and chemistry I have forgotten.


    ¡°I would like to make myself useful to you,¡± I continue the conversation without skipping a beat, analyzing my thoughts and options even as I speak completely unrelated words. ¡°I can carry heavy loads and do other menial labor you require.¡±


    As expected, Edna gives me a slow shake of her head. She already has plans for me, and I can hardly blame her. I would foster identical plans for me if I were her.


    ¡°If you really level up by curing the clowex, your one job will be to study to become a mage and level up in that class.¡± Her voice is measured, but I can hear the greed and longing behind the calm facade.


    She wants me to blaze a path for her, and given how powerful magic seems to be, I can¡¯t blame her. Again, given the nature of magic, the odds of her teaching me how to sever wood with a wave of my arm or how to summon head-sized balls of flame seems close to zero.


    If I let things go the way she intends, I will become her slave, and then, once she no longer needs me, she will silence the liability.

 Chapter 5 - It Stinks

    Day 2, 9:10 AM


    I go through the familiar motions of my staff exercises. Fyoor¡¯s rickety body is a wreck, I have mostly recovered from the heart attack, but every move is still sluggish, despite the fact that this man must certainly be younger than I was when I died.


    ¡°What happens when you change back into the class you were advancing before?¡± I ask and lash out with a triple strike combination, sending a shower of raindrops while silently cursing the perpetual rain.


    ¡°You lose the attributes which you have previously invested while leveling in that class, you lose the skills you have gained in that class, and start over from level zero. Skill choices seem to be random, but from a limited pool, since all of them are well known and documented.¡±


    The rain does not bother Edna, who is gardening while we wait for Chubbchubb to eat enough antidote to cure its poison.


    ¡°So, if I want to keep improving, whenever I change the class it should be a new one. How do I do that?¡± That is one question I did not unravel in my previous life. Whenever Manny died, I became a king, but while she was alive my class was a bodyguard, despite me being a king for half a century and not moving a single finger to defend her in ages.


    ¡°Changing class is involuntary. The Guide does not let you choose a new one, but it isn¡¯t random. The Guide seems to read your mind, your actions, and assigns you a class based on what you are doing and what you focus on.¡±


    ¡°And you can only have one class at any given time?¡±


    Edna confirms, proving my decision not to reveal my other class correct. I mentally bring up the screen of the class which followed me across lives and across worlds.


    [Anarchist Level 5


    Abilities - Rage, Redo, Blunt, Heavy Handed, Direct, Insightful, Precise, Godly ??, Vengeful ?, Grandmaster Rider ?


    To level up, help a person wrongfully penalized by the authorities, heedless of the consequences.]


    Redo is still red, days away from being useful, and now that I am no longer a king, the level up condition is much more attainable, but the ¡®heedless of the consequences¡¯ part is going to be tough.


    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡± Edna noticed my mind was wandering. I need a lie, but a plausible one.


    ¡°You have a fine ass for a two-hundred-year-old.¡± Blunt comes to my rescue. I didn''t even notice I was eyeing the rear swaying left and right between the bushes.


    Edna shoots up, like I had poked at the said butt, and glares at me.


    ¡°I apologize, you were shaking it, and I thought you were making a pass at me,¡± I lie through my teeth, but the words are shocking enough to rattle her.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± she stammers. ¡°I was just humming a song and swaying in the rhythm.¡±


    The way her tongue twists and her cheeks turn red reveals an utter lack of experience in the matters between men and women. Which is good. I may be in a different world, living a different life, but I have no intention of fooling around, despite what Manny had told me.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± I say, the very definition of a chaste knight, ¡°I will forget anything had happened, and I will not take suggestive movements as suggestive.¡±


    Edna turns as red as a tomato, mumbles a, ¡®you better,¡¯ and goes back to digging in the dirt, this time squatting, her butt nearly touching the ground.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Uncanny Nose - Your sense of smell is twice as strong, helping you find wild herbs.


    Green Thumb - Herbs you plant grow faster and more resilient than others.]


    What the hell? These are useless. In my past life my level up skills gave me a choice between better leading armies and sensing hidden attackers, and here all I get is farming and foraging skills?


    Then again, I am a herbalist, these are probably useful to people dealing with herbs.


    ¡°I leveled,¡± I say. ¡°Got ¡®Uncanny Nose¡¯ and ¡®Green Thumb¡¯, I will choose enhanced sense of smell, because I can imagine myself using it.¡±


    Edna stares at me, but says nothing, so I pick Uncanny Nose, and immediately regret it. The temeronia¡¯s dead sock, to which I have gotten used to, returns with a vengeance, as do the rotten eggs of two dozens pyrineas, rotten cheese of cryonia, and dozens of others ranging from intoxicating sweetness to rot of corpses.


    Overwhelmed by the sudden tsunami of odors, I gag, and sit down.


    ¡°Lord of Light, this is a torture.¡± I close my eyes and lie on my back, feeling the spongy, soggy ground with the entirety of my body.


    Then I just breathe and endure my torment as raindrops pelt my face.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Perfect, I just enjoy soaking in the rain.¡± That¡¯s when I realize something odd, my back is fairly dry, considering I just dropped prone onto a mushy sponge. ¡°The clothes repel water.¡±


    Edna takes a moment to process what I said, but her mental attributes must also be very high. ¡°What would be the point of clothes if they didn¡¯t repel water?¡±


    She has a point. This world¡¯s society has evolved with considerably different needs than what I am used to. They keep their hair long and greasy, their clothes waxed, all to repel water. The only person different¡­


    My mind wanders to the priest I slew. His balding hair was short, combed, and clean, the white clothes he wore were much finer, almost like cotton, and certainly did not have the greasy shine. The bodyguards held umbrellas for him. I have done it again, thinking I¡¯m smart and regarding this world as a primitive version of Earth, when in fact it is full of its own challenges.


    Arborea was like that, and I told myself I would not make the same mistake twice, yet here I am again.


    ¡°I apologize for the sarcasm. My nose feels like exploding. Do you mind just talking about random, irrelevant things about Everrain to get my mind off of things until I adapt? No secrets. Things little children know. Where do you get your metal? Do you have any animals that are not bugs? How many humans and human kingdoms there are? Are there any scary monsters or different races? Basic things like that.¡±


    Edna humors me. Her people used to get their bronze by smelting copper and tin they mined from a nearby mountain. The mine is not the type of a hole in the ground I am used to. Instead, it digs up into the mountain, to keep the everlasting rain from drowning the miners.


    There used to be more mammals around, long before she was born and before the wormlords launched the first war. Everrain has amphibians, mammals, invertebrates, and insects. The world lacks reptiles and birds, but has something Edna describes as horrors, which seem to be mutated creatures, twisted by magic. Most of them are sterile, but some have the ability to procreate.


    There were once seven mighty kingdoms, but they fell to the wormlords over the centuries. The refugees and the survivors made a desperate final stand, eventually trapping the wormlords inside the dungeons, and trying to rebuild life in the world desolated by magic and monsters.


    Scary monsters were everywhere, and as far as Edna knew, only the human race exists in the world.


    Edna was kind enough to distract me for some twenty-odd minutes while giving me the basic rundown of her world, and I have benefited greatly.


    At least I covered the basics in twelve hours, rather than two months like last time.


    ¡°Thank you, Edna. I am feeling much better now, I will put this point into Physique and check my new level up condition.¡±


    The point in physique makes me feel even better, but I frown at the level up requirement.


    [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson


    Class - herbalist level 9


    Health 16/19, Strength - 16, Agility - 20, Physique - 19, Wisdom - 28, Intellect - 32, Willpower - 26, Presence - 22, Charisma - 23, Composure - 25


    Abilities - Literate, Advanced Calligraphy, Initial Arithmetics, Advanced Herbalism, Advanced Healing, Initial Focus, Initial Appraisal, Initial Woodland Sense, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Poison Tolerance, Master Rider


    Attribute points remaining - 0


    To level up, discover a previously unknown medicinal herb of moderate potency or higher


    Statuses - None ]


    ¡°I believe that this time my level up condition is impossible to cheat around.¡± I share the condition with Edna, and she agrees. But I can tell she was never interested in me further pursuing my career as a herbalist.


    ¡°I will start teaching you magic. I¡¯m fairly certain you will be able to rapidly grow your level.¡±


    It is as I had expected, she wants to use me as a trailblazer to light the path for her. Fortunately, I have prepared a countermeasure.


    ¡°I would love to learn magic.¡± While a part of my act, those words are absolutely true. I have dreamed of magic and casting spells ever since I first watched the Fight of Dragons when I was a boy.


    ¡°But¡­¡±

 Chapter 6 - Class Change

    Day 2, 10:05 AM


    ¡°But?¡± Edna asks impatiently, proverbial sparks flying from her glaring eyes.


    ¡°But that is not the wisest approach. If the Guide can be gamed in this way, maybe there is a way to cheat around the attributes as well. But to do that, I need to go to a wormlord¡¯s dungeon, activate my Guide, and see what else I can come up with. Unfortunately, you mentioned inquisitors keep watch over the entrances, somehow finding any aspiring mages and burning them on a stake. Is that right?¡±


    Edna nods. She eyes me suspiciously, but she really did say that she was unable to enter the dungeon to increase her attributes and combat her memory overload that way.


    ¡°I am almost positive I can find a solution to that conundrum if I delve into a dungeon for a while, but I can¡¯t be a mage if I want to do that.¡± I exert my charisma over her, and after a lengthy silence, Edna nods.


    ¡°Very well, it is possible that as a mage you would encounter another impossible level up condition, maybe even before reaching my level. We should at least try to get you into a dungeon, but for that we need to do several things. I must sculpt your face and body, so that nobody recognizes you as Fyoor, you need to take a new class and abandon your old one, maybe get used to a different name. The Guide only shows your latest class, so your existing levels shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    ¡°Why would my class be a problem?¡±


    ¡°The inquisitors have an ability which allows them to see a person¡¯s class and level to gauge the strength of their enemies and locate their targets. Being a wandering level nine herbalist after a level eight herbalist killed their priest would get you killed or captured and thrown into a pyre.¡±


    That also means getting killed.


    So, the consequence of being discovered is death, and the consequence of being a mage is being on a constant lookout for inquisitors or dying to your carelessness. Escaping into the wilds is not even an option according to Edna, the mutants living there are too lethal unless you wield potent magic. And all I wield is an uncanny nose.


    So the plan for now is to stick close to civilization, get out of a crazy witch¡¯s clutches, and somehow learn magic, because it seems like a good way to transcend mortality at the low-low cost of painting a target on my forehead.


    ¡°In that case, I would be grateful if you could alter my appearance and tell me how to change into a class that makes sense for delving into the nearest dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Most dungeon delvers are hunters, mercenaries, or soldiers. You become a hunter by hunting in the wilds and bringing your kills back home, to become a mercenary, you have to fight someone for a reward, and to become a soldier, you have to join the guards, since there are no more armies left. Regular soldiers could only act as bait against the horrors, and such practices were abandoned early in the war.¡±


    Edna obviously doesn¡¯t know it, but being a bodyguard is also on the table, assuming I want to protect her or someone else. I consider the notion of sacrificing myself for Edna, and bodyguard is out of the question.


    ¡°How often can you change classes?¡±


    Edna shrugs. ¡°It rarely happens. People usually take several levels in their class and only start considering a class change after years of stagnation.¡±


    Yeah, I have similar thoughts, BSD changed my class only after significant events, and after I stopped being what I was before.


    How do you even stop being a herbalist? Probably by not having contact with herbs for an extended period. It will probably be fine to recognize them, since I can¡¯t help that, but I should refrain from gathering even the most valuable ones.


    ¡°Do you have any weapons? A sword, an ax, daggers?¡± Maybe there is a more generic warrior class I can take, probably not as good as something specialized like soldier and mercenary, but if it has subpar skills, it should be easier to level up.


    ¡°I have a big butchering knife.¡± Edna offers, snuffing out that idea. I guess being a hunter will suffice.


    ¡°Which tools do you use for hunting?¡±


    ¡°Spears, snares, and javelins.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any of those?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°No, not really, but I can make them.¡± And she does, in short order. A spear is just a long stick with a pointy end.


    I abandon my staff training and watch her instead. Chunks of wood fall off seemingly on their own as she chants and holds the biggest, thickest pole she had. The pointy end is really pointy, probably too long, considering it¡¯s made of wood, but it should be fine as long as the shape matches my purpose.


    Her song changes and black and green motes surround the rough wooden pole. They dance atop it, spinning and twirling, but as her song intensifies, the particles draw closer to the timber until they fuse into it.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I ask a couple moments after her song ends.


    ¡°I made it tougher. Mages don¡¯t need metal to make something as hard as metal.¡± She¡¯s all smug, but I would be too if I could infuse wood with metal hardness.


    ¡°How tough is it?¡±


    ¡°Tougher than bronze, as light as wood.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impressive,¡± Blunt voices my praise, and I continue. ¡°If you can make metal-like objects this way, I have a couple requests. Could you harden my staff and make me a sword, a dagger, a cudgel, an ax¡­¡±


    My list is cheekily long, but in my previous life I have mastered several weapons. They all have their advantages and disadvantages, and there¡¯s no way to know which is superior against the monsters she mentioned until I face them. I prefer fighting unarmed or with sticks and clubs, since most of my anarchist bonuses apply to those methods of combat, but every tool has its use.


    I expected Edna to protest, but she picks up another piece of wood and starts making a thin-bladed sword. Heavy weapons were superior with my old body, but Fyoor was more agile than strong, and slim, precise weapons may be the way forward until I bring my strength up.


    Well, since she¡¯s working on our goal, I should too. I focus back on the staff, perfecting my form with a body very much unused to physical exercise. An hour later, Edna has made a single-edged sword, a hunting knife, and a cudgel.


    [Ability - Initial Staffmanship acquired]


    ¡°Finally!¡± I thought that given my level of proficiency and the ungodly number of hours I have spent training my favorite weapon in my previous life, I would get the ability after swinging the staff a couple times. Instead, it took well over an hour to hammer out all the mistakes.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Edna looks up from the hunk of wood she started sculpting.


    ¡°I regained my proficiency with the staff. Spear is up next.¡±


    The spear took two hours, the sword three. Edna had finished making weapons for me long before I acquired my second ability, but she kept watching me.


    ¡°It¡¯s impressive,¡± she says as I pick up the ax she made.


    ¡°What is?¡± I check out the weapon. I thought the sword was slender to account for my new physique, but I was wrong. The ax is massive, and she seems to know little about weapons. The limiting factor in making these was the size of the wood she used, as well as weight distribution, which is horrible.


    ¡°You certainly were a warrior. Fyoor never touched anything other than his herbalist¡¯s knife, but even as you just start swinging a weapon, I can tell you are close to mastery.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m a long way away from being a master. All my weapon skills are at the initial level. The guy who trained me had Advanced Spearmanship, I think. I was four times his size, and he beat me silly. I¡¯ve trained for years and never reached his level.¡±


    We chat as I swing the uncomfortably light battle ax, and I can feel the split focus harming my training.


    ¡°Pardon me, Edna, I don¡¯t mean this as an offense, but do you mind if I focus? I would like to advance to Initial Axmanship before the night falls.¡± She leaves me be, and settles on watching me in silence.


    The ax is unnerving, its balance completely off compared to what I¡¯m used to. It feels like swinging a club while pretending it¡¯s an ax. Then, half an hour before the night¡¯s downpour, the notification I¡¯ve been expecting finally appears.


    [Ability - Initial Clubmanship acquired]


    Huh?


    I tilt my head. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I guess it¡¯s fine.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Edna asks the moment I stop swinging.


    ¡°The Guide registered this ax as a club, and I got a club proficiency from it.¡± I chuckle, dismissing the notification, and check my stats.


    [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson


    Class - weapon master level 0


    Health 19/19, Strength - 16, Agility - 20, Physique - 19, Wisdom - 28, Intellect - 32, Willpower - 26, Presence - 22, Charisma - 23, Composure - 25


    Abilities - Literate, Advanced Calligraphy, Initial Arithmetics, Advanced Herbalism, Advanced Healing, Initial Focus, Initial Appraisal, Initial Woodland Sense, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Poison Tolerance, Master Rider, Uncanny Nose, Initial Staffmanship, Initial Spearmanship, Initial Swordsmanship, Initial Clubmanship


    Attribute points remaining - 0


    To level up, defeat a combatant with their favored weapon.


    Statuses - none]


    My chuckle becomes a cough. ¡°My class changed.¡±

 Chapter 7 - Griff Rider

    Day 2, 8:15 PM


    ¡°How? Why?¡± Shock is clear in Edna¡¯s voice. I can relate, I never expected I would change a class just like that.


    I check my skills, and there are no new additions, meaning that the weapon master class has no innate skills.


    ¡°Edna, what¡¯s your favored weapon?¡± I ask after reading the level up condition.


    ¡°Why?¡± She¡¯s suspicious. Can¡¯t say I blame her. I¡¯d also be suspicious if a stranger asked me about my favorite weapon.


    ¡°I need to defeat a combatant with their favorite weapon to level up. You would have to give it your all, but I¡¯m certain I can take you with whatever you¡¯re used to.¡±


    She deadpans at me, her gaze stabbing like twin daggers.


    ¡°My favorite weapon is magic. I haven¡¯t used anything else since learning my first offensive spells. And even before I learned them, I didn¡¯t need to fight anyone with a common weapon. My status was special, and nobody would dare attack me.¡±


    I take note of her boasts, some of her arrogance and pride still present, even after the world and society in general kicked her like a dog, but the only important takeaway is that I can¡¯t use her to level up.


    I guess I could squash a slug unarmed, but I¡¯m pretty sure BSD doesn¡¯t see a harmless slug as a combatant, and it would probably nitpick about me using hands or arms to defeat something without them. What if I stomped it? Slugs have feet.


    BSD is nitpicky about such details, and I hate how it tells you nothing about why you have failed to meet its arcane conditions. You simply don¡¯t level up.


    ¡°Do you know anyone who could pass for a combatant I could spar with?¡± I ask, stopping myself from sighing.


    Edna shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m not the most social person around, and the few people I do know are hermits, definitely not warriors or anything I would describe as combatants.¡±


    Figures. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll tackle that alone later. Now, I have changed my class. All you have to do is change my appearance, and I can go into a dungeon.¡±


    ¡°You plan to delve alone?¡± Apparently, whatever I say is wrong, or we speak two different languages.


    ¡°Yes? Is that a problem?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s suspicious,¡± she draws out the words, hesitating about her answer. ¡°People usually delve in teams of three to five. I could make your face and body young, then you can pretend you ran away from home, were lucky enough to cross the wilderness, and came here to try your luck.¡±


    She taps her chin, looking into the distance. ¡°Yes, that could work. You tell them you come from Grayfort, but keep the details vague. Your parents didn¡¯t approve of your ambitions, so you fled home¡­¡±


    Edna keeps talking, narrating an imaginary life, seemingly lost in her fantasies. Her story devolves into an eerily familiar narrative about the feud between my family and that of the woman I love, with the twist in which I have left home to grow strong enough to end their strife.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I don¡¯t mind her blathering, but it¡¯s going nowhere. ¡°Will the inquisitors really ask about what my uncle has done to my girlfriend¡¯s grandfather?¡±


    ¡°They might.¡± She crosses her arms, her voice way too defensive for someone who believes what they are saying.


    ¡°All right, you make me look young, I fled from home, and I try to make some friends in or near the dungeon to make the inquisitors less inquisitive.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°You looking young and having an impressive physique, but nothing outlandish, given your warrior class, will add more weight to your words than just about anything else. The process of reshaping your body will hurt, though.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I woke up in the body of a person thrown off a cliff, I was burned on a stake twice, and I was eaten by two kinds of wild beasts in the last few weeks. Reshaping of flesh doesn¡¯t sound that bad.¡±


    She smirks, and half an hour later, she proves me wrong. The green glow suffuses my body, sticking to my skin and sinking beyond sight. She sings in a shrill voice which grates at my ears, and following her words, the bones of my face crack, move, and heal into new shapes, including moving my frickin¡¯ eyeballs. Then my flesh shifts to adapt to new features. The former was painful, the latter disturbing. I¡¯m certain muscles weren¡¯t made to do what mine were doing.


    There are next to no changes she needs to make to the rest of my body¡¯s skeleton. She makes me a bit taller, and following a series of cracks and pops, straightens my spine, but that¡¯s about all. Next, she works on my muscles, making them lean, hard, and well defined.


    ¡°Can you do something about all this hair?¡± In his old age, Fyoor was as hairy as a monkey, and if I have a choice I would do without curly chest hair I can braid and the annoying strands sticking out of my nose and ears.


    With what must have been a thought of Edna¡¯s, the hair falls off just like that, revealing the sickly pale flesh veined with blood vessels. I would like something tanned, more in line with my previous life, but in this world of sickly albinos, a tanned Hercules would stick out like a sore thumb.


    I¡¯ve sweated half a bucket by the time she¡¯s done, but the suffering and discomfort were well worth it. My new body glistens like oiled, my physique indecently decent.


    ¡°Your body will change over time.¡± Edna says, eyeing me like a sculptor evaluating their art. ¡°Your muscles will adapt, growing or shrinking, but your skeleton and organs will remain mostly like they are, unless you damage them. I have worked on everything, including intestines, to make you resemble a youth as much as possible.¡±


    Yeah, no wonder she¡¯s an eternal virgin. I¡¯d be too, if I perceived humans as a bloody mess waiting for me to fix it. I wonder if she rejuvenated my testicles, and how she felt about it.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I give her a shallow bow, the gesture would have been more formal if I wasn¡¯t buck naked, covered in sweat.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± She doesn¡¯t give a damn about my thanks or my sexy figure. I would have been offended if I was several centuries younger, but she continues her speech, unaware of my thoughts.


    ¡°So your goal is to infiltrate the dungeon, activate your Guide, and then try to cheat some attributes out of it. Remember, the Guide can answer simple questions, and it¡¯s responsive to your thoughts, to an extent. It works better inside the dungeons, but basic functions are available everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why that is?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°Because it works better in a dungeon. You don¡¯t question why the ground is hard or why water falls from the sky.¡±


    For some reason, those words come as a disappointment. I don¡¯t consider Edna my friend, but it¡¯s obvious she is taking and accepting a course of action more favorable to myself than it is to her. In fact, she is taking an unnecessary risk. That should be a sign of good will, and if I really was wrong about her wanting to use me as an experimental subject, I will need to return the favor.


    I¡¯m a cynical old bastard, I may see the worst in people, but if someone graces me with favor, I will return it in kind.


    ¡°I think you should ask yourself why the ground is hard, why water falls from the sky, and why the Guide behaves better inside the dungeon than it does outside. A lot of knowledge and power is hidden in asking such questions, a lot more in answering them.¡±


    She looks at me with a cocked brow.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of preaching coming from a bare-butted kid.¡±


    I wanted to bite back with a witty remark, but she raised a valid point. ¡°Fyoor¡¯s clothes no longer fit, and they have charred and burned patches. Can you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just put them on, and I¡¯ll handle the rest.¡±


    I follow her instructions, and she starts singing again. It¡¯s a low, slow chant this time, almost pleasant compared to the violent assault my ears suffered while she reshaped my body.


    Green and brown mores appear, washing over my clothes, smelling of mint. The grime dissolves, disappearing into my shirt. The holes and tears mend, the long, waxen sleeves grow an inch longer, then another, becoming slightly too big for me.


    The same happens with my waterproof trousers, their leggings growing long enough that I need to cuff them to walk normally. I cuff my sleeves too, and the only thing left are shoes, which suffer a more radical change. The leather or soft carapace from the soles moves up, stretching the shoes, and Edna adds two small chunks of wood, which dissolve and flow towards the bottom of my shoes, becoming the new soles.


    ¡°No wonder you don¡¯t need anyone, you can do everything yourself.¡±


    Edna looks at me, bobbing her head once sharply. ¡°Magic can do almost anything. Now, you have new weapons, new body, new clothes, new shoes, the only thing left is a new name.¡±


    A wry thought comes to mind. I won¡¯t use my old name, but there was a title everyone called me back when I was a king.


    ¡°What about Griff Rider?¡±

 Chapter 8 - Company

    Day 3, 6:00 AM


    I depart Edna¡¯s home with sunrise, or to be more exact as the heavy downpour of the night gives way to the dimly lit drizzle of the day.


    Redo is still red, and not having my crutch bothers me. I¡¯m like all regular mortals now, only one chance at life, and one mistake means dying for days, months, years¡­


    I shudder at the thought. Redo is as much doom as it is salvation. Excessive use caused my mind to fray more than once in the past, and just smashing my head into mush when things aren¡¯t going my way isn¡¯t the most mature thing I¡¯ve done in my life.


    The worst part is I neither understand my skill nor the consequences for those who remain. I¡¯ve come up with multiple explanations, ranging from all existence being a fever dream of mine, to universe reverting and undoing all the events of the two weeks I travel back in time, and every single idea I had was absolutely insane.


    I¡¯m no closer to the answer, but thankfully, I¡¯m currently in a universe with zero loved ones, zero friends, and one tentative alliance, which might be a step away from slavery. Redoing time without caring about the consequences somewhat eases my mind. The only possible drawback is becoming a raving madman. Again.


    I push away the dark thoughts, and instead focus on Everrain. In the wide open fields, my long, oily hair protects me from the drizzle, while the heavily forested areas are really strange, hardly allowing a drop of water to hit the forest floor. Leathery leaves and twisting branches form rain collectors, directing all the water to the trees they belong to, and I don¡¯t understand what the plantlife does with all that water.


    If the rain were allowed to reach the forest floor, it would have become a swamp ages ago.


    I frown. Wait, it¡¯s the other way round. This area isn¡¯t a swamp because flora like this exists. It captures water, allowing for soggy but firm ground, rather than rain flooding the land and forming an endless marshland.


    Ecosystems are a complex topic, extremely fun to consider when they are alien, boring when it¡¯s something you see every day.


    Why the bugs, though? Shouldn¡¯t amphibians dominate this world? Or walking fish? Crocodiles?


    Edna mentioned things were different before, that wormlords have attacked with armies of mutated bugs, but that was before she was born. Heavily mutated life tends to die out, I think. They over-hunt their prey, they can¡¯t procreate, dissolve because of volatile genetics.


    And yet, big bugs are everywhere, if you know where to look. The staple representative of the mutated category, a spider with complex, bee-like eyes and way too many legs, jumps atop what looks like a land lobster twice its size. Vicious fangs flash, there¡¯s a crack as the lobster¡¯s spiked carapace gives, and the tranquil, dog-sized lobster is suddenly whipped into a frenzy.


    The spider clings to its back while heavy pincers snap, probably with enough force to tear human flesh, if not break the bones outright, but the spider is nimble. It dodges out of the way, its teeth still delivering the venom.


    How much venom does it need to kill a lobster? The answer is obviously a lot. The spider dances left and right with its fangs stuck in the lobster¡¯s flesh for a good three to four seconds before letting go and jumping away from its prey.


    The scene fascinates me, and I stop to see how the drama will unfold. Unfortunately, the end is disappointing. The spider scuttles around, just outside the lobster¡¯s reach, harassing it enough that the crustacean can¡¯t escape.


    As minutes trickle by, the lobster slows, then grows completely motionless. I¡¯m about to leave, when the spider approaches its dead prey. The lobster moves like a flash of lightning. It grabs the spider¡¯s body in its massive claw and squeezes, severing the arachnid in half.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Its victory is hollow, though. The lobster curls, rolling onto its back, as dead as the spider.


    I consider the sight and move on, determined not to relax even around the corpses of the monsters I slay. If a simple lobster can play dead, why can¡¯t something bigger and more evolved?


    The trek to the dungeon is around two days. My woodland sense and heightened sense of smell helped me forage for food, and I spent the night¡¯s torrential downpour in the wilderness, huddled at the base of a great tree, munching on seeds, before moving on when the rain weakened.


    I leave the forest and walk onto an elevated road paved with bricks, running into a trio of adventurers arguing two dozen yards ahead of me. Two women and a man, all older than eighteen, but younger than twenty-five. After listening in a bit, I get the situation. Apparently, their fourth team member got cold feet and decided not to go to the dungeon with them.


    ¡°We should turn back,¡± the shorter of two women says. ¡°We haven¡¯t activated the Guide, and only the three of us entering the dungeon for the first time is dangerous, we might not get out alive.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t have scripted a better cue.


    ¡°Hi there!¡± I catch up to the trio, startling them. ¡°Couldn¡¯t help overhearing you discussing your problem, and I think I have a solution.¡±


    I blaze with charisma, and the girls blush, their capillaries turning redder and more visible as blood rushes through them.


    This see-through skin will take some getting used to.


    ¡°What?¡± the male, who seems to be the oldest, asks, suppressing his confusion.


    ¡°I was heading to the dungeon myself,¡± I answer, pretending that the question was about what I was talking about and not about what I was doing sneaking up on them and starting a salesman¡¯s pitch. ¡°I¡¯m a beginner weapon master, and while I could solo the dungeon, there is safety in numbers.¡±


    The man blinks, the girls are star-struck, and I keep talking, lest they find their bearings and ask logical questions to which nobody has an answer, for instance, ¡®How is this happening?¡¯


    ¡°I won¡¯t take any extra loot, even though I¡¯m more experienced than you are. What do you say?¡±


    The girls are about to say yes, give me their names and family histories, but my charm and good looks don¡¯t work as well on men.


    ¡°I say who the hell are you and how can you prove your claims?¡± A reasonable question, a good one, in fact, if a bit rougher than needed. I glance at his gear and see he has a club.


    ¡°I see your favored weapon is the club, is that true?¡± He nods.


    ¡°And you should be at least decent in combat if you¡¯re heading into the dungeon. You might say you¡¯re a real combatant.¡±


    The taller girl nods. ¡°Fred¡¯s dad is in the guards. He trained him personally.¡±


    Fred stands a bit taller, rain sliding off his black hair, but some of it landing on his face as he lifts his chin up.


    ¡°Tell you what, Fred, how about I prove I¡¯m able to fend for myself. You come at me with your club, and I¡¯ll fight you with one arm behind my back until one of us surrenders.¡± Clubs are generally one handed weapons, but riling him up a bit will only help with my leveling.


    Sure enough, taunt, backed by my charisma works like a charm.


    ¡°Lucy, hold my bag, I¡¯m gonna beat up this braggart.¡± He hands his waxed sack to the taller girl and takes the club from his belt. ¡°You asked for it, buddy.¡±


    I take out my club, the rest of the wooden weapons still strapped to my back, and before I get into a wide stance, Fred swings wildly at my face. I jerk back out of the blow, and almost kick him in the stomach to drop him, but then I wouldn¡¯t win with a club, and the whole fight would be pointless.


    So, I rein in my instincts and wait for him to regain his balance. The kid finds his footing and lunges at me again. I duck under the blow, and slam him in the gut with my cudgel. He drops his weapon and curls up like shrimp as a notification appears before me.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Advanced Swordsmanship - Your skill with swords improves.


    Initial Axmanship - Your skill with axes improves.]


    ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t mean to hit you that hard.¡± I say aloud, considering my options. It¡¯s not really a choice, I can gain Initial Axmanship after several hours of practice, so I choose the advanced skill instead. I have no idea how much effort it takes to polish a skill to that level, but I know I never achieved it in my previous life.


    ¡°I¡¯m Griff, by the way.¡± I help Fred onto his feet. The youth is still pale and gasping for air, but he¡¯ll be fine soon enough.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± I assure the girls. ¡°I just knocked the wind out of him.¡±


    If this class will give me weapon skill improvements, I need to master all of them to an initial level before leveling them. How many different weapons are there?


    The answer is a lot.

 Chapter 9 - Youth

    Day 5, 10:20 AM


    ¡°I¡¯m Lucella.¡± Lucy nods as she introduces herself officially.


    ¡°I¡¯m Gizella,¡± Gizella does the same, but instead of nodding she opts for a curtsy. It was meant as a cute, playful gesture, but decades spent on court make it hard not to cringe. I manage, barely.


    ¡°Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I¡¯m Griff.¡± I flash a winning smile, and it wins them over. With a moment of calm, I open my status screen, assign my point to physique, and check my level up condition.


    To level up, defeat two combatants with their favored weapon simultaneously.


    I like it! Simple, straightforward, and seeing the girls also have clubs, something easily achieved with a stick, some time, and a good enough excuse. Maybe training? Helping them improve their skill?


    I let a silence descend, interrupted only by the rain¡¯s eternal drumming and Fred¡¯s dry heaving.


    ¡°So, do you think I¡¯m good enough to be on your team,¡± I ask the blushing girls, and they nod with zeal while Fred grunts.


    ¡°What are you plotting?¡± he manages through deep breaths.


    ¡°I¡¯m not plotting anything. I just want to have companions on my first delve in this region¡¯s dungeon.¡±


    ¡°An outsider?¡± Fred plays a stereotypical, suspicious, antagonistic brat, but the girls are more open to a pretty face.


    ¡°Where do you hail from?¡±


    ¡°How did you get here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from Grayfort, I had a falling out with my family, and now I¡¯m here. Once I become strong enough, I¡¯ll go back home and force them to listen to me.¡± It turns out that Edna¡¯s brief history of Griff, the Rider family, and extensive descriptions of regional geography won¡¯t be a waste after all.


    The girls look at me with dreamy eyes, and even Fred is somewhat intrigued. Being rebellious and defying the family while striving to become important and powerful has great appeal to young people, and it makes sense for the young adult Griff to have such motivations. I¡¯d slap him silly if he were my child.


    ¡°What¡¯s Grayfort like?¡±


    ¡°Are the forests between forts really that dangerous?¡±


    Even Fred joins the questioning. ¡°What kind of monsters did you see?¡±


    ¡°I took the safeway, only getting off it to bypass the gatekeepers. The most dangerous thing I¡¯ve seen was some monsters fighting from a distance, and Grayfort is gray, bleak, with walls looming over you.¡±


    ¡°Just like home.¡± Gizella sighs, probably disappointed with the boring world we live in.


    I nod, smiling reassuringly, and shift my attention to Fred. ¡°The forests near the forts have next to no monsters, while the ones near the safeway are lethal to those at our level. But I hope I can return home through the wilderness once I¡¯ve leveled enough in the dungeon. Who knows, maybe we kill the wormlord and get the dungeon¡¯s reward.¡±


    Aside from the feasibility of killing an entity the world¡¯s greatest mages had to band together just to bind, there are no facts supporting the popular folk tales stating that killing a wormlord would grant the delvers earth-shaking powers. At least according to Edna.


    But a fancy tale like that was also something she had woven into Griff¡¯s story, to make him appear more youthful and gullible. Pitching such nonsense annoys the parent in me, even if my children aren¡¯t here. Hopefully, they are still residing safely and happily in a different world. Then I wonder whether my story annoys me because I¡¯m too old and callous. It¡¯s been ages since I¡¯ve been young. Maybe I¡¯m just too old fashioned?This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Mentioning the dungeon reward to distract the kids worked, much to my displeasure, and even Fred perked up.


    ¡°You plan to delve all the way in? I want to be a guard, like my father, but they won¡¯t take you unless you have activated your guide and have at least fifty points in physical attributes.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s harsh,¡± I start lying through my teeth. ¡°I think you can get the job in Grayfort with three fifteens.¡±


    Fred nods. ¡°Three fourteens are enough in Tallrock, but you need a total of fifty to become an officer, a total of fifty-five for them to even consider you for the position of the captain. If I can start off at fifty before I take the guard class, I¡¯ll be a shoo-in for the captain¡¯s position, and that opens up a rare class, guard captain.¡±


    Fred shares his progress for the next three classes with great enthusiasm, his animosity forgotten as I ooh and wow at his great ideas.


    A glance at my stats tells me I¡¯m not just a viable candidate for the guard and officers, but also for the obviously prestigious class of guard captain.


    I wonder if there¡¯s a squire to knight to royal knight chain in here, and whether it¡¯s as powerful as I suspected it to be.


    ¡°So, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re all right with Griff joining the party, Fred.¡± Lucy interrupts Fred¡¯s daydreams and empty bragging. ¡°If you are, I think we can safely explore the first four or five levels of the dungeon before we have to turn back.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Fred bobs his head up and down like a chicken, or whatever insect bobs its head on Everrain.


    ¡°Great,¡± Gizella says, pointing in the dungeon¡¯s direction. ¡°Onwards to victory!¡±


    I really like those words and enthusiasm. The rain isn¡¯t dampening her spirit, but I guess that¡¯s normal in a world in which it perpetually rains. God, it¡¯s annoying. I wonder how much time I¡¯ll take to get used to the endless pitter-patter and the smell of rain.


    ¡°So, Griff, why¡¯d you choose Tallrock castle?¡± Lucy asks a question Edna prepared me for. In fact, the old witch drilled me half the night asking various questions, listening to my responses, then correcting me when my answers were too dry or not native enough.


    ¡°Tallrock is closer to the border of civilization, and there should be three dungeons nearby, one near the walls themselves, the other two further away, towards the corrupted lands. After I complete my first dungeon, I¡¯ll move on to the second, then the third. With three dungeons under my belt, I¡¯ll be the most powerful man in the world.¡±


    I feel like I¡¯m trying to top Fred¡¯s silly story about being a guard captain and having a good life eating big fat slugs, but apparently this world¡¯s culture is like that. People daydream and indulge in wild fantasy.


    ¡°Why are you going to the dungeon, Lucy?¡±


    ¡°I want to be strong enough to travel between the castles. I don¡¯t know whether I want to be a merchant or a messenger, but I want to see the world. It can¡¯t all be bleak like Tallrock.¡±


    Her wish resonates with me better than Fred¡¯s. I¡¯d like to offer her some advice, but I don¡¯t know enough about the world. What I can offer is encouragement.


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s so brave of you! Which class are you aiming for?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°Peddler, messenger, wanderer; I don¡¯t know, something to make my travels easier, more comfortable, or more profitable. I¡¯m not doing it for the money, but if I can¡¯t make myself more comfortable through skills, I will do so through high quality and high utility belongings or by staying in more comfortable inns.¡±


    I nod once in approval. The girl¡¯s got a good head on her shoulders, as long as she¡¯s strong enough¡ª.


    ¡°Your plan sounds great,¡± Blunt starts and I continue, ¡°as long as you¡¯re strong enough to protect yourself or fast enough to escape danger. This is a dangerous world, and you have to be ready for danger on the road.¡±


    She smiles at me, gratitude in her eyes. I¡¯m not sure whether she¡¯s grateful for the advice or for the support, but it hardly matters, building a solid rapport is the most important thing right now. I want to look like these kids and I are close friends by the time we reach the inquisitors and the dungeon.


    Fyoor, a wanted murderer, can¡¯t possibly be a twenty-something-year-old youth, hanging out with other youths.


    ¡°What about you, Gizella?¡±


    ¡°Call me Gila.¡± She flutters her eyelashes at me, a cute smile on her lips. ¡°I want to be a tailor.¡±


    Tailor? I can¡¯t recall the last time I was as surprised. I frown, trying to find the logic, but I can¡¯t fathom why a person who dreams of being a seamstress would ever delve into a dungeon.


    I give her the best smile I can muster. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Gila, I don¡¯t follow.¡±


    ¡°Opening a shop is very expensive, and you have to pay a master for apprenticeship, my family was too poor, so I¡¯ve been forced to become a maid, to work for food and shelter, but I want to run my own store and to learn a respectable craft.¡±


    So you decided to go to a deathtrap from which those unprepared, such as girls wearing normal clothes and wielding a single thick stick as a weapon, dreaming of being a tailor, never return? Are you insane, girl, or are you just that desperate?


    ¡°That¡¯s a noble motive, Gila. How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Seventeen.¡± She flutters her eyelashes at me again, and I have to reevaluate their ages. I thought she was nineteen or twenty.


    ¡°What about you, Lucy?¡±


    ¡°Nineteen.¡±


    I missed by four years. I look at Fred. ¡°And you, Fred?¡±


    ¡°Twenty.¡±

 Chapter 10 - Error

    Day 5, 11:45 AM


    Damn, they are kids. All of them.


    I was about Gila¡¯s age when I led a rebellion, on a fast track to become a king, but that was just my body, mentally I was already pushing forty.


    We chat for a while, and the kids are decent. They joke, they have hopes and dreams big and small, from gathering enough precious herbs in the dungeon to opening a small business to becoming a legendary explorer or the Tallrock¡¯s castellan.


    I also share my made-up story, which I¡¯ve moved closer to a non-idiot version of Romeo and Juliet, where I, Romeo, have left my home to grow in power and influence until I can bend both families to my will and force them to allow me to marry the woman I love. Who in their right mind plays with poisons?


    Blessedly, we reach the dungeon entrance an hour after noon. The two inquisitors in red, ominous robes and with long-shafted maces or blunt axes in their hands glance at us. Their gazes linger on me, but they say nothing and let us pass.


    With their menacing presence out of the way, I focus on the mound they are guarding. The dungeon itself stands atop the hillock, a mere brick stairway leading underground. It¡¯s the size and shape of a field toilet with a slanted roof to keep the rain out. All in all, a very unassuming structure, one I would avoid, my peerless nose petrified by the promise of horrid odors.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± With an utter disregard for the said nose, I take the lead and step into the outhouse dungeon.


    The first step is a small rise, another tool to keep the water out, then the stairs so steep you might as well call them ladders, plummet down like a tunnel with light on the other end.


    ¡°Mind your step.¡± I remind the kids and start my descent.


    With an agility score of twenty, or two-and-a-half times the ability of a regular human, the stairs aren¡¯t a problem. The kids aren¡¯t as sure-footed, the footsteps behind me are a lot more hesitant and careful than mine. I could easily go down and wait for them, but I slow my descent, in case I need to catch one of them so they don¡¯t break their necks.


    Fortunately, some forty feet below the surface, I reach the mossy ground, with all the kids still following safely behind me. The cavern before me is vast, certainly taller than forty feet, with something providing yellowish-orange light from the ceiling.


    Beneath the impressively high dome is a jungle of the same plants that grow on the surface, but there¡¯s a significant difference between the two worlds. There is no rain, not a drop, and I¡¯m thankful for it. My keen nose picks up a wide range of smells, including damp ground. A flash of gold interrupts my rumination.


    [Welcome to the Dungeon, your Guide is awakening.]


    The writing is black on gold, like a plaque, written in this world¡¯s strange letters. They don¡¯t seem faceless, like BSD¡¯s uniform writing. Instead, there are minor variations, as if the message was written by hand.


    [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson]


    It starts listing my stats when a new golden sheet replaces it.


    [Fault - Fyoor Enchanterson already has a Guide.]


    [Fault - Fyoor Enchanterson¡¯s status is deceased.]


    [Fault - Fyoor Enchanterson¡¯s attributes have greatly changed.]Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Warnings framed in gold flash before my eyes, and I realize something. The Guide isn¡¯t merely a tool to help people access BSD information. It¡¯s keeping track of them in some way.


    But why?


    Another, even stranger message, appears.


    [Who or what are you?]


    I barely keep myself from jumping from shock. The question gives me the creeps. I already knew that BSD was and still is tampering with my thoughts, memories, knowledge, and even muscles and muscle memory. But implanting skills into my being is different from actively trying to talk to me.


    I am Fyoor.


    [Lies. Who or what are you?]


    My body is that of Fyoor Enchanterson.


    [We know that already. Who or what are you?]


    We? Who¡¯s ¡®We¡¯? The Guide either can¡¯t read my thoughts if I don¡¯t think at it or it doesn¡¯t reply.


    I don¡¯t want to answer either, but the golden sheet expands, covering my entire field of vision. The only thing I can see is the question. I hate BSD, but this Guide just climbed to the top of the list. If it can access my mind, then it already knows everything about me, since it¡¯s asking questions, that can mean only one thing, it doesn¡¯t have access to my mind. There are some limitations.


    I am a visitor using a convenient vessel.


    I think at it, and the screen disappears, replaced by one revealing my limited information, with no further questions coming my way. The whole exchange lasted a handful of seconds, leaving me with questions fueling other questions as my imagination runs wild.


    Stop. Calm down. You have no means of getting answers now, and you¡¯re powerless to do anything even if you do get them. Remember, you¡¯re covering in front of a single witch. There will come a time to consider the civilization-monitoring ¡®We¡¯ you just interacted with.


    I hold my breath, focusing on the immediate issues. Dungeon, gaining levels, seeing the kids back home safely. Maybe helping Gila open a tailor¡¯s shop. Yes, nice, calm thoughts.


    They help. I even have the time to normalize my heart rate and stop my paranoia from running wild before Lucy steps onto the mossy ground behind me.


    ¡°It¡¯s hot in here!¡±


    She¡¯s right, the air is both drier and warmer down here. Probably because the rain is constantly cooling the surface, but there might be other reasons relating to magic.


    ¡°It really is!¡± Gila is the next to arrive, hopping down the last three steps, flailing her arms like she¡¯s trying to fly. ¡°And look, there¡¯s no rain, like indoors, but there are plants and light and stuff.¡±


    Fred brings up the rear, and assured none of them fell down the steep stairs and broke their necks, I once more focus on our surroundings. There¡¯s a strong dissonance in my mind as all the flora looks absolutely alien to me, and yet as soon as I focus on a plant I know its name, properties, and what I could use it for.


    ¡°Wow! I¡¯m a level three maid!¡± Gila exclaims. ¡°I even have three ability points and skills!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a level two assistant.¡± Lucy doesn¡¯t bother to hide her disappointment. ¡°But I also have three ability points.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised, the difference means she¡¯s already on her second class. The only one silent and even more sullen than Lucy is Fred.


    ¡°What about you, Fred?¡±


    ¡°Level one laborer. One ability point.¡± He spits the words out like phlegm, with a disgusted face.


    The low level and the class aren¡¯t really his fault. If he became a laborer unknowingly, and never managed to change the class, but also no longer worked as a laborer, it¡¯s entirely possible to stay stuck at level one or zero.


    If I recall correctly, all you need to do to level up from zero to one as a slave is to work without food for ten days straight. But if your master feeds you and nobody steals your food, it¡¯s entirely possible to stay level zero your whole life. Even a weapon master who favors an ax, can spend his whole life as level zero fighting people wielding swords, clubs, and spears. Hell, without knowing the condition, a weapon master could spend his whole life in the dungeon, unaware that all he needed to do was bite a monster to death.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Fred.¡± I pat the young man on the back. ¡°All you need to do is get a different class and level it up here in the dungeon.¡±


    I look at the girls. ¡°In fact, I think both of you also need new classes, since I don¡¯t think you can level up your original classes here.¡±


    ¡°But how do we change them?¡± Gila asks, and I look at Fred.


    ¡°Did your father tell you how?¡±


    He shakes his head, and I sigh.


    What¡¯s the worst that could happen if I tell them what I¡¯ve concluded so far?


    ¡°This is a family secret, and you have to promise me not to spread it around.¡± I look at them with the hardest gaze I can muster, which makes for a pretty damn titanium glare, and they nod. Gila even gulps cutely, and I start talking, suppressing a smirk.


    ¡°From what I know, and what I know might not be true, what you need to do is meet the conditions for another class and either be willing to change yours or not wanting to keep it. That¡¯s what they told me, I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s a difference between the two, nor what the difference is, but my stubborn old man said it like that.¡±


    I make a dramatic pause before continuing.


    ¡°For example, to become a hunter you need to hunt something and deliver it home, but I guess you could deliver it to a person who asked you to hunt whatever it is you have caught. I don¡¯t know how many times you have to do it, though. But don¡¯t worry. There are all sorts of classes, and we can definitely get you something better suited for combat while we¡¯re on the first floor.¡±

 Chapter 11 - Training and Bonding

    Day 5, 3:20 PM


    ¡°We can start off with light combat training.¡± While I want to help the kids, there¡¯s no reason not to do it in a way that benefits me the most. ¡°What are your favored weapons?¡±


    All three of them have clubs, so the question is a moot point. Still, the kids are polite enough to answer and to show me their clubs.


    ¡°All right, let¡¯s see how you swing them.¡±


    Fred is decent, he might not have the proficiency, but he definitely knows how to hit someone with a club. I never thought there was anything worth knowing when it comes to hitting a man with a thick stick, but the girls handily convince me otherwise.


    ¡°Wait, wait, stop. You¡¯re holding it wrong. You might hurt your wrist more than you hurt whatever you¡¯re hitting.¡± I have to correct everything, the girls¡¯ bearing, stances, how much they stretch their arms when striking, everything.


    A quarter of an hour later, we¡¯re getting somewhere. Gila trains with me, and Lucy is with Fred. For starters, they are trying to smack our clubs away without hitting our fingers. I manage to keep mine safe, but Fred yelps from time to time.


    ¡°How¡¯d you guys band together?¡± I ask between Gila¡¯s whacks.


    ¡°We¡¯re cousins. Fred was looking for someone to go with him to the dungeon, but his friends already had jobs, and none of them wanted to take the risk. They said it wasn¡¯t worth it, and I agree. If I had my own little shop, I wouldn¡¯t have left the safety of the walls, regardless of how safe the guards say it is.¡±


    I weave my club while listening to her talk about life in Tallrock. Her movements are fast, but there¡¯s hardly any force behind her blows.


    ¡°Did you put all your points into agility?¡± She nods at my question.


    ¡°Seventeen,¡± she squeals in excitement. ¡°Agility and physique are important for artisans. One makes you precise, the other improves your eyesight and allows you to work longer hours with less rest.¡±


    Physique impacts eyesight? I did not know that. And to think the information would come as a passing comment from a young woman barely old enough to be called that. Why didn¡¯t Edna tell me that? Did she think everyone knows it?


    ¡°You¡¯ll need strength as well, your hits lack the punch. What¡¯s your strength? Eight?¡±


    ¡°Nine!¡± She thwacks my club extra hard, with no visible result, save for the slightly louder clap of wood against wood. ¡°And what¡¯s your strength? Twenty?¡±


    I smirk. ¡°Sixteen, but I think anything beyond twelve is too much for you. You need to improve your strength a bit, or switch to a weapon that favors agility. Probably both.¡±


    She stops swinging and looks at me. ¡°Griff, I don¡¯t want to be a hunter, I want to be a tailor. Tailors don¡¯t need strength.¡±


    The funny thing is, she¡¯s right. I always had that quirk, to judge what others can and want to do using myself as the benchmark. Unfortunately for her, she¡¯s in a dungeon now, not in her shop, and she is preparing to fight dangerous creatures, not sew suits or dresses.


    ¡°You know, getting a class related to hunting will increase your safety while we¡¯re in the dungeon. And if you use those levels to increase your strength, they aren¡¯t really wasted. Those hunter class levels are something you never would have had, so you can pretend your natural strength was always higher.¡±


    She stares at me blankly, apparently my advice did more to confuse her than it did to help. A part of me wants to keep talking her into picking the smarter option, but ultimately what she chooses to do with her life, her class, and her ability points is her own affair. It has nothing to do with me.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to change partners,¡± I call out.


    I¡¯m wasting my time on her. Gila doesn¡¯t want to be a warrior, she wants to be an artisan working inside the safety of the walls. Edna said those walls aren¡¯t worth a damn if a wormlord strikes, but if the walls fall, I doubt three points in strength will save Gila. Or thirteen for that matter.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Lucy, on the other hand, wants to be a wanderer, a traveler capable enough to survive on her own, and sure enough, her attacks are fiercer, faster, and pack a greater punch.


    ¡°Twelve strength?¡± I ask, and she nods.


    ¡°Do you mind if I up the challenge?¡± She doesn¡¯t and I start moving faster, my club whistles through the air, and hers follows, filling the first floor forest with a steady stream of wooden thwacks.


    ¡°What did you do with your three points, if you don¡¯t mind my asking?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t assigned them yet. I wanted to see how things were going and shore up my weakness.¡±


    This one has potential.


    An old habit of mine pops up. When I was a king, evaluating people and estimating their potential and the best way to utilize them was a fact of life, and Lucy would make a good follower.


    ¡°Your agility is sixteen, right?¡±


    ¡°Fifteen.¡±


    Another surprise, she¡¯s just a tad slower than Gila, and her strikes are well aimed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t invest your points into agility just yet. If you keep training, you might get it up a point really soon. Twelve strength also isn¡¯t bad, you can keep exercising to increase it. I think you can increase it by a point or two naturally. Do you mind if I push your limit?¡±


    She blushes, and lowers her gaze, her onslaught of attacks coming to a halt.


    ¡°I mean the training, the training! You have potential, and I want to help you.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± She nods, still staring at the ground.


    ¡°Fred, Gila, do you mind coming over here for a moment? I have a new idea. I want all three of you to fight me with all you¡¯ve got. We¡¯re not in a hurry to fight the monsters, and getting a bit of a workout and seeing where you are before we get started should benefit all of us.¡±


    The kids agree, and stand in front of me with their clubs raised.


    ¡°You give me your best shot, I promise not to incapacitate you. If you win, I¡¯ll make dinner tonight.¡±


    The offer doesn¡¯t seem like much of an incentive to them, but they do fan out. As expected, the first one to attack is Gila. The girl screams, swiping her club at me. I hit the club close to her hand, and she yelps as it flies out of her hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re out.¡±


    The other two jump me together. Fred is much more conservative than he was outside, he gives himself space to retreat and doesn¡¯t commit all his strength to the attack. I deflect his blow, but Lucy¡¯s club is whistling for my skull. The strike is too serious for a practice match, she wouldn¡¯t brain me if her hit landed, but a concussion seems likely.


    I duck under the blow, and my arm twitches, my elbow going for her gut. I stop myself in time. The purpose of the training is to defeat them with a club, not with any other weapons, including unarmed combat.


    I step back, ready to strike her club and disarm her, but Fred¡¯s already there, covering her weakness. The teamwork is accidental, but it can be made into a good habit. Fred brings his club down in an overhead strike, which I sidestep.


    My club strikes his, but his grip is firm enough, and he keeps control of his weapon. Lucy stands behind Fred, in real combat I would use him as a shield, but since it¡¯s training, I do something nobody expects. I jump over him, knocking the club out of the surprised young woman¡¯s hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re out.¡±


    With only Fred in the game, I swarm him with a flurry of club strikes, my hand moving like a whirlwind. The clacks and thuds overlap, and after two dozen strikes, the club flies out of his hand.


    ¡°Great effort!¡± I beam a smile at the young man and slap him on the shoulder, he really gave it his all to keep his club in his hand.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Advanced Clubmanship - Your skill with clubs improves.


    Advanced Staffmanship - Your skill with staves improves.]


    I read my options, both are decent, and I¡¯m going to pick the staff, but not yet. When Edna first explained how the Guide level up functions, there were several ideas on how to exploit it in my mind already.


    If it¡¯s slower to respond, what would happen if I chose one option with BSD and the other with the Guide? Would it work? Would I get both skills?


    An interesting exploit, if Guide was as powerful as Edna thought it was. If it¡¯s just an added layer atop BSD, nothing will happen, except I hope it compensates me somehow for failing to comply with my request.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within twenty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Advanced Clubmanship - Your skill with clubs improves.


    Advanced Staffmanship - Your skill with staves improves.]


    A golden plaque with black writing appears before me, the text identical to the still visible blue frame. I choose the staff with BSD, and the notification disappears, then I focus on the Guide and pick the club.


    [Fault - the time has expired. You were assigned a random skill - Advanced Staffmanship]


    Dammit!

 Chapter 12 - First Blood

    Day 5, 5:10 PM


    I invest my free ability point into strength, pumping it up to seventeen, and check my new level up condition.


    Get initial proficiency with five weapon categories? Easy and annoying. If only I had an ax instead of an ax-shaped club.


    I offer Fred a hand and help him up.


    ¡°I really mean it, a good fight. You too, Lucy.¡± The girl blushes at the compliment and bobs her head up and down. ¡°I¡¯ve got a feel for your skills, and I know what to expect in combat.¡±


    It¡¯s tempting to simply tell Gila to stay out of our way and leave the fighting to us, but that wouldn¡¯t be fair. It would be smart and safer for her, but it could raise questions about sharing resources we find, whether we should send her home, which we should, and many other venomous topics best left unspoken if you want people to work in harmony.


    What if she dies? I disregard the thought, Edna has described the levels of danger in dungeons, and until we reach the thirtieth level, there¡¯s nothing more dangerous than me down here.


    ¡°How do you feel? Are you ready for our first exploration? The first floor should be simple, with a handful of weak monsters.¡±


    Gila is the most enthusiastic, jumping in place, ready to go, Fred is still catching his breath while Lucy is looking at her club, blood rushing through her cheeks, marbling them in red.


    ¡°Could you teach me how to fight like you?¡± She asks, and Fred nods.


    Yes, but not without sinking decades into it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Blunt starts, and I shut my mouth before it finishes my thought. The skill is useful, but blurting out my thoughts like that at random times is as much of an annoyance as it ever was.


    ¡°But it would take time, and you would have to invest a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it.¡± I add as soon as I¡¯m convinced I¡¯m in control of my own mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes,¡± Fred says, and I guess I can teach the kids some basics about fighting while we¡¯re exploring the dungeon together, we¡¯re bound to stay here for several days anyway.


    ¡°Sure. We can start with you fighting monsters until they become too strong for you to handle.¡± Gila shrinks. Her shoulders draw together, and she stoops a bit, as if she¡¯s about to curl up. Meanwhile, the other two are enthusiastic.


    ¡°I won¡¯t force anyone to do anything. Once the monsters grow tougher, we fight like a team. The main objectives are to survive, to stay safe, and to gain experience.¡± I¡¯m lying.


    Once the monsters grow too tough for me to handle alone, I¡¯m shipping the kids back home, regardless of what they say. Funny thing, I could tell that straight to Gila, but it would hurt the other two¡¯s feelings.


    ¡°Now, the stairs for the next level should be somewhere near the entrance, do you know where?¡± Edna told me exactly where they were, but as a foreigner, I can¡¯t know such details.


    ¡°It¡¯s over there.¡± Fred points left. ¡°Hidden behind those yellow ferns. My father explained everything about the dungeon when I was younger.¡±


    The question is, why didn¡¯t his father explain those things before Fred and his cousins set out for this little expedition of theirs? There¡¯s something here the kids aren¡¯t telling me, but that¡¯s fine. Their small-town intrigue has nothing to do with me.


    What I¡¯m more interested in is the layout of the dungeon. The mages who created this place made it so that delving down to the deeper floors doesn¡¯t require navigating through the ones above.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    A dungeon-delving team can go straight down to level eleven unchallenged, but after the eleventh floor, the monsters become stronger and more aggressive. In theory, a beginner delver can reach the bottommost floor unobstructed and die to the captured wormlord, but it would require a whole lot of luck and an utter lack of common sense to achieve such a feat.


    Each floor is large, and it takes hours to explore, and descending the stairs takes around five minutes. So more advanced teams don¡¯t bother with the upper floors, wasting two hours to go down and back up is enough of a time-sink to keep the first few floors clear for the beginners.


    ¡°All right, Lucy first.¡± I motion the young woman to take the point.


    Fred is about to protest, but I raise my club. ¡°Be a gentleman. Ladies first.¡±


    He frowns in confusion. The blend word probably doesn¡¯t exist in their language. I¡¯m about to tell him a gentle man would treat women as equals, but I don¡¯t want to have that kind of conversation right now.


    ¡°Let her take the first monster, you can take the second, the third one¡¯s mine, and we take turns training like that until we have to fight like a team. All right?¡±


    The two of them agree, and Gila seems uncomfortable. ¡°Gila, this is training. Since you¡¯re not interested in gaining experience, we¡¯ll split your share of monsters.¡±


    Everyone knows I¡¯m lying, but nobody will point it out, since they all stand to benefit from the arrangement. Gila gets to stay safe, the other two get her share of monsters to fight, and I¡¯m the one lying.


    Why do I care so much about these kids?


    There¡¯s plenty of reasons I guess, even without considering the regrets I carry over from my previous life¡¯s fatherhood, which I¡¯m not certain I¡¯ve handled all that well.


    I dismiss the thought and follow Lucy into the trees. While she¡¯s keeping an eye out for creepy-crawlies, I¡¯m keeping an eye out for any valuable herbs.


    I don¡¯t want to change my class, I don¡¯t want to change my class. The chant goes on and on, and I can only hope BSD understands me and my intentions. All I want is to get some local currency to buy real weapons.


    If my level up condition is any sign of things to come, I think I¡¯ll need a ridiculous amount of different weapons.


    I¡¯ll probably have to commission some exotic ones from a blacksmith. Wait, all I need is one more weapon right now, and I can make it with what I have on hand.


    I look around and quickly find what I was looking for. Sturdy vines, as thick as my index finger, cling to a tree.


    Herbalism identifies it as a spiral sitter, a harmless creeper which climbs trees, circling around their trunks in a spiral pattern.


    ¡°Wait a moment.¡± I dash over to the vine, collect some seven-eight yards of it, and loop it around my waist. The others are shooting me strange looks, and I beam them a smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you something neat later.¡±


    Lucy and Fred nod, apparently trusting me, while Gila just stares at me curiously before we move on.


    About ten minutes pass, no precious herbs anywhere, when a bush to our left rustles. I motion Fred and Gila to step back. We retreat, leaving enough room for Lucy to maneuver.


    The monster tramples the fern bush, its ten insectoid legs scuttling across the damp soil, its complex claw severing the plant to clear the way towards us. It¡¯s the same species of dog-sized lobster as the one which achieved mutual destruction with the tarantula.


    The lobster clicks and hisses, scuttling towards Lucy. Most women from my previous life would have ran away screaming if the same monster, half this one¡¯s size ran towards them. The spider-like eyes, the alien mouth, a cross between mandibles and tentacles, the spiny carapace and multi-segmented pincers, which don¡¯t really make sense to me, all of it creeps me out from the bottom of my being.


    But apparently, to Lucy, this thing is like a dog or a pig. There¡¯s no sign of disgust on her face, no hint of fear, but her hands are trembling with excitement.


    The lobster snaps its claw at her, the multiple segments clinging together to form a single pincer with sharp hooks sticking out. Lucy jumps away. The move is horrible. Her jump was too long, too far away to capitalize on her opponent¡¯s poor stance, and instead gave the lobster space for another charge.


    The lobster lunges at her again, moving surprisingly fast for a nearly seven-foot-long crustacean. Lucy dodges it and the two subsequent attacks, getting a hang of how the lobster moves. Then it strikes for the fifth time, and instead of jumping away, Lucy hops to the side. The claw misses her and she pounces. The club strikes the eyes with a crunch, and the lobster shrieks.


    Lucy lifts her club, revealing the lobster¡¯s ruined eyes, before bringing it down again. She whacks the creature again and again, crunching its armor further, until the lobster curls up. Its body forms a wheel almost reaching her chest. I¡¯m about to shout for her to watch out in case the monster¡¯s playing dead, but she steps away from it on her own and cleans her club on fern leaves.


    Lucy looks up towards me, expecting praise.


    ¡°Great job. Your movement towards the end was excellent. There was no need to jump so far from your enemy as you did the first two times, but better safe than sorry until you get used to it and develop your combat instincts. As for your attack¡­¡±


    She was hitting it like a panicked child squishing a spider with a shoe until it well and truly became a pancake, but I use gentler words and point out areas for potential improvements.

 Chapter 13 - Impossible Expectations

    Day 5, 8:25 PM


    Edna didn¡¯t mention that the light in the dungeon steadily dims as you kill monsters on your dungeon floor. It¡¯s a neat way to know how close you are to clearing it, and you can judge how many are left on the floor as soon as you enter it, but there¡¯s a huge, glaring problem. The dungeon becomes deadlier as visibility decreases.


    It¡¯s easier to miss a detail, misjudge a distance, walk into an ambush¡­


    I¡¯ll ask Edna when I return. And despite believing that she¡¯s out to enslave me, I will return to her. Based on what she said, there are probably no other mages around, and having reincarnated in a world with magic, there¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m not learning how to use it.


    Lucy is doing great against the tenth and probably the final lobster of the floor. Especially considering the circumstances. She jumps not away, but to the lobster¡¯s side from its first lunge. Unfortunately, her jump was too short. The crustacean snaps the other segment of its pincer at her leg, but she jumps again, somersaulting midair to avoid the attack, what ground she gained with her original maneuver she lost twice over, but that doesn¡¯t matter. The way she recovered, and the instant in which she perceived the danger all speak of raw talent.


    The lobster isn¡¯t as impressed. It lunges again, and Lucy jumps to its other side, this time better gauging the distance, which is really tough in the dim light. The lobster snaps with its secondary pincer, but a club smashes into its head with a satisfying crunch.


    Another one-hit-kill for Lucy, her second, compared to Fred¡¯s one.


    The light dims further, reaching roughly the level of illumination of a crescent moon on a cloudless night, enough to make out shapes, not enough to read or do detailed work.


    ¡°That should be the final monster. Anyone interested in dinner?¡± I point at the lobster.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got flint and bronze,¡± Fred says. ¡°You guys just need to collect firewood.¡±


    I was planning to rub two dry sticks together until they caught fire, but Fred¡¯s solution is better. I should¡¯ve known the kids have at least some basic supplies in their sacks.


    ¡°My agility is sixteen!¡± Lucy starts skipping with joy. ¡°The dungeon rewarded me for killing the last monster on the floor!¡±


    ¡°Lucy,¡± I say in an even voice, ¡°the dungeon didn¡¯t reward you. Your agility was already on the verge of a higher value. The way you jumped out of the way of that claw is probably what tipped the scales. That¡¯s all. Congratulations, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Thank you! Yes, thank you!¡± The girl claps her hands as the other two congratulate her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll gather the kindling, you guys just stay there.¡± I¡¯m an outsider, so I leave the trio to celebrate, gathering sticks and searching for more valuable herbs. We¡¯ve mostly scoured the floor, and all we found were two bushes of manaria, a moderately valuable herb, whose leaves are used to brew several kinds of advanced concoctions.


    Definitely nowhere near enough to send Gila back home with the funding she is looking for, but it¡¯s a nice start. Zero injuries while Fred and Lucy handled their own enemies with increasing skill in constantly harsher light is also reassuring.


    My brief search bears no fruit, and five minutes later, I return with an armful of sticks and some dry leaves to find the kids sitting around a fire they had already started with what they had on hand.


    Fred is making suggestions as Lucy deftly sticks a pointy stick into the lobster¡¯s mouth. Based on the smell, they have already cleaned it, probably Gila¡¯s handiwork. Quite effective, given I¡¯ve been gone a handful of minutes.


    ¡°These should see us through the night.¡± The sticks clatter on the ground as I drop them two yards away from the fire. ¡°I see you¡¯ve got everything under control, in that case I¡¯ll busy myself with this.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I unspool the vines from around my waist, cut it in three sections with my enchanted wooden knife-dagger thing, and start braiding it.


    My hands are dexterous, but braiding raw vines and making sure there are as few imperfections as possible still takes a good half hour. The lobster smells great. Gila is spinning it on a stick, casting glances my way while Fred and Lucy are staring at what I¡¯m doing.


    Finally finished, I inspect my handiwork. The rope sling is the simplest ranged weapon, and if made of a good material, it¡¯s more or less impervious to wet conditions. Bow and arrows have a more elegant look to them, but the string and the fletching suffer in the rain. Not to mention Edna said there are no feathers in this world, so I would have to improvise on that front too. And the final advantage sling holds over a bow is blunt ammunition. It benefits from Blunt, which empowers all my attacks with blunt weapons.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Fred asks.


    ¡°A sling, you use it to throw stones at high speed at distant targets.¡± I glance at Gila. ¡°It¡¯s a great weapon for those with high agility who want to deal damage from afar. Watch this.¡±


    I pick up a stone from the ground, place it in the woven pocket, and after a couple spins, I send the stone whistling through the air. The shot is slightly off, released too soon. Even in a new body, I still remember all my training, making my shots perfect, yet never reaching advanced skill level.


    ¡°It can pack quite a punch.¡±


    I shoot a dozen more stones before I do it just right and BSD appears.


    [Ability - Initial Slingmanship acquired]


    The other screen follows it immediately.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Initial Flailmanship - Your skill with flails improves.


    Initial Knifemanship - Your skill with knives and daggers improves.]


    Damn! I¡¯ve never mastered either, but picking an initial weapon skill as a level up reward hurts. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t level up until I¡¯ve mastered more weapons?


    I pick the dagger mastery, which I don¡¯t plan on ever calling knifemanship. The fact that I own a dagger-ish weapon here and now is the sole reason I choose it over a blunt weapon category. The skill is mostly wasted, since I don¡¯t plan on ever using either weapon, but at least I got an ability point out of it, which I invest into strength, upping my score to eighteen, then I read the level up condition.


    To level up, defeat an enemy by using weapons of three different weapon categories with which you have proficiency. I can bet my arm there are no level four weapon masters in this world. How do you even do this without knowing about the bloody condition? I almost start cursing BSD aloud like a madman.


    On second thought, I can actually imagine someone meeting that ludicrous requirement. If they fight something tough like a dragon or a giant turtle, and their weapons keep breaking, they might switch through a whole arsenal if they have access to one.


    Yeah, I¡¯m probably the only weapon master in the history of this world, probably multiple worlds, who¡¯s going to meet this specific requirement. But that raises a question, what do I care about more, quickly advancing through a class, getting as many ability points as possible and then bailing into another class when I hit the wall, or advancing each of them slowly?


    I¡¯m leaning towards the former. As I consider my options, the lobster keeps smelling better and better to my savant nose. By the time the food is done, I¡¯m almost certain my choice is to sprint through as many classes and as many levels as possible before becoming a mage, which opens up a new question, how high do I need my physical attributes to be?


    I have no intention of investing into social stats, twenty-two is more than enough for anything other than convincing the populace that I¡¯m the archimage who created the Guide or a god of their choosing.


    Over the course of his life, Fyoor heavily invested into mental prowess, and it¡¯s already insanely good, but after getting strength to twenty, I¡¯m not certain I need any more. Sure, dodging and snatching arrows is fun, as is being able to run through doors like they aren¡¯t there, or shrugging off direct hits of artillery fire, but magic!


    In the end, I decide to take a page out of the book of Lucy. Once I have any, I¡¯ll bank my unspent attribute points and assign them when I need them. As for leveling up, the condition is trivial to meet once you know of it. All you need is a Fred.


    ¡°Hey, Fred, wanna spar after dinner? I¡¯ll have a handicap to make things more fair, I have to cycle through three weapons, changing one after each attack I make.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Progress

    Day 5, 9:50 PM


    As it turns out, a Fred doesn¡¯t cut it. The poor youth is gasping for breath on the ground, not because I¡¯ve beaten him up, which I have a bit, but because he overexerted himself. I frown. No level up notification. It¡¯s been a minute already, so there won¡¯t be one.


    I check BSD again and want to curse my own stupidity. Fred¡¯s not my enemy. Great, BSD made such a ridiculous condition and blocked weapon masters from leveling through friendly spars. Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll go beat up a lobster with a club, a dagger, and a sword tomorrow.


    A sudden chill runs down my spine.


    I¡¯m doing it again. I¡¯m trying to game my life and game the system, and I can already feel my hold on reality weakening. It¡¯s been a handful of days, and I¡¯m already back to where I was as I descended into madness.


    I need something to ground me. I can¡¯t, I just can¡¯t do that again.


    ¡°A good fight.¡± I smile, extending my hand to Fred, but he doesn¡¯t take it. Instead, he settles for gasping for air in mother earth¡¯s squishy embrace.


    ¡°Training like this, until your body gives out, is a great way to increase your abilities naturally. Just like Lucy did during her fight.¡±


    I consider using the kids as an anchor, as something that binds me to reality, but I¡¯m doomed if they turn into an obsession or a project.


    ¡°You need to learn to let go,¡± she said. Should I just leave these kids and head deeper by myself? Would that help?


    I don¡¯t think it would. But the hell am I supposed to do if that¡¯s not an option either? What is it that I need to let go of? Manny was always smarter than me, seeing things I couldn¡¯t and pointing me in the right direction, and I¡¯ve lost her. Possibly forever.


    I gulp and drive away those thoughts. The first thing I need to let go of is her. Luckily, the light is dim and the flickering campfire is behind my back, so the kids can¡¯t see my expression.


    ¡°I think Fred¡¯s got the right idea, we should rest and head to the second floor tomorrow. I¡¯ll take the first watch, who wants to take the second?¡±


    Lucy and Fred volunteered, and given Fred¡¯s condition, we all agreed Lucy will take the second watch.


    The kids huddle on the ground near the fire and start snoring within a minute. The scene draws a smile. They are young, tired, and they experienced a bunch of surprises in one day, it¡¯s only natural they pass out as soon as they hit the sack or squishy mulch.


    Alone with my thoughts, I check the tree for acidic vines, poisons, and every other method of threatening my life that I can imagine, but it¡¯s clean. A regular old growsaw, timber used in construction. I sit down and lean my back against it, my lids shutting all on their own. The night passes in a semi-restful limbo on the border of sleep. I certainly dozed off a couple times, but it was such light sleep, my own soft snores woke me up.


    My eyes snap open as I hear the kids stirring. I get up, feed a handful of branches on dying embers, and wait for them to wake up. Their confused faces are priceless as they take a moment to process where they are and what they are doing in the forest.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t wake me!¡± Lucy¡¯s hair is stuck to her face, and there¡¯s a line of drool running down her chin as she accuses me.


    I gesture towards the fire burning and popping happily, then towards them. ¡°There was no need, and you guys were exhausted. Especially Fred.


    ¡°I accept full responsibility for that.¡± I say before the young man can protest.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The morale is high, we are mostly rested, and after devouring some lobster leftovers we head down the stairs. The long hours in the darkness brought some clarity to my mind, and I have decided to advance as fast as possible, within reason.


    Rushing off in the middle of the night, leaving the kids to sleep without a guard just to level up, is not acceptable. Neither is anything similarly irresponsible or crazy. However, fighting a lobster and drawing out the fight so I can use three different weapons is definitely fine. It might make a strange sight, but that¡¯s all right with me.


    I reach the second floor with the others just a few steps behind me. The layout seems similar to the one above. There¡¯s a bit of a clearing at the entrance, then the forest starts, concealing the danger.


    Each level is supposedly more dangerous than the last. Edna said there are more monsters, some evolved, some new, but always a greater challenge than the ones above them.


    ¡°Fred gets the first monster of the day.¡± Everyone agrees with me, and we start searching the forest for valuables and monsters.


    Much to Fred¡¯s disappointment, the lobster we run into first is pretty much the same as the ones above. Maybe a bit bigger. Fred dodges the initial attack and brains it in two moves.


    ¡°Great!¡± I pat him on the back. ¡°You might think it¡¯s boring, but think about how easily you killed it now, compared to the first one you fought yesterday. You¡¯re making excellent progress.¡±


    My compliment embarrasses the youth, and he mumbles a thanks, letting me take the point. With a sword in my right, a club in my left, a dagger strapped behind my sling-belt, and the rest of my weapons strapped to my back, I must look ridiculous.


    I don¡¯t think about it much. If the level up condition is anything to go by, my class requires me to carry a ton of different weapons, or to have retainers who carry them.


    A bush rustles, and a giant tarantula scuttles out of it. It darts towards me, much faster than the lobster, but a single swipe of my sword severs three out of six legs on its left.


    ¡°Back,¡± I warn the rest, trimming another two legs from its right side before discarding the sword.


    With five out of twelve legs severed, its mobility is limited, its speed nowhere near what I¡¯ve seen in the forest while it fought the lobster. I use the chance to crush another three legs on its right side with my club, and the creature stumbles, crawling on the ground away from me.


    A wooden magical dagger plunges in the middle of its cluster of eyes, and I get my level up notification.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Blunt Weapons Master - Your skill with all blunt weapons you are proficient with increases by one grade.


    Slashing Weapons Master - Your skill with all slashing weapons you are proficient with increases by one grade.]


    Wow! Just wow. Pushing multiple weapon skills at once is like getting a bunch of skills. No wonder the condition is so harsh.


    The only question is what do I go with? Staff, club, and sling versus sword and dagger. Most people would choose the latter, as they prefer bladed weapons, and I do consider the option, but ultimately, staff is my preferred weapon, useful for offense and defense, and it can double as a really long club.


    ¡°Why were you showing off?¡± Lucy asks, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°You obviously could¡¯ve just stabbed it with the sword right from the start.¡±


    I give her an apologetic smile as I pick Blunt Weapons Master. ¡°I was just testing something, and it didn¡¯t work as well as I hoped.¡±


    I check BSD, increasing my strength to nineteen. My staffmanship is at an expert level, I¡¯ve never had such a high grade skill, except Rider, which I got from an achievement.


    The level up condition is brutal though, proficiency with eight different weapon categories. I don¡¯t even think about it, and focus on my party.


    ¡°Lucy, you can take point, but be careful, these things are fast, and those nasty fangs certainly aren¡¯t for show. It will hurt if it bites you, and you¡¯ll probably get poisoned.¡±


    Lucy takes the lead, giving me an annoyed look, as if my warning was an insult. And it might have been. The spider lunges at her from a bush not ten minutes later, and she swats it dead with her club like it¡¯s the most normal thing in the world.


    She raises a brow at me, wordlessly saying, ¡°See, this is how you kill spiders. You don¡¯t juggle weapons.¡±


    I can¡¯t help feeling embarrassed. It must¡¯ve looked like I was showing off in front of the kids, when in truth, I was doing what BSD told me to.


    Fred gets another lobster, annoyed because we got the spiders, and we take turns, clearing the level without incident.


    Our loot are three manaria bushes, and a fistful of glowing ore, which Initial Appraisal labels as stormium.

 Chapter 15 - One More Floor, Pleeease

    Day 12, 11:05 AM


    A week has passed in the dungeon, and in that week we have mostly done what we have set out to do. Lucy is now a level two acrobat, Fred a level one hunter, and ridiculously enough, Gila is a level three camp follower. The girl has increased her agility to twenty, and now her stat rivals mine. A ridiculous notion, considering I helped the other two level up, but Gila achieved her feat all on her own. I¡¯m positive she¡¯s some type of leveling savant.


    Fred got a level when I told him I¡¯d give him my share of floor¡¯s manaria leaves if he killed a centipede for me. I tried a few other things, but I don¡¯t know what¡¯s his next level up condition. Lucy was more complicated, she did all sorts of acrobatics until she leveled once, then she got another level mid-combat against a flightless praying mantis crossed with a cockroach almost as tall as Gila.


    My level has stagnated. Once I get an ax and a proper javelin, I¡¯ll level up in a day. Switching classes is still on the table, but Blunt Weapons Master was so powerful, it stoked my greed, and I want to try my luck to see what level five has to offer.


    We¡¯re on the tenth floor. Fred just killed the final monster, and we do one last sweep, searching for valuables. Other than the corpses of centipedes, the weird mantises, mutated first-floor lobsters, and other goodies for entomology enthusiasts, we find nothing. We¡¯ve already scoured it clean.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the next floor!¡± Fred is full of enthusiasm, and I understand him.


    Ten floors and not a scratch. Still¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure. Difficulty should increase greatly every ten floors.¡± I hesitate to take the kids down with me. Redo is no longer red.


    My crutch and curse, my salvation and damnation. I should live life like there are no redos, like there are no second chances, madness lies down that path. Yet, the kids are begging me with their eyes.


    Gila still hasn¡¯t gathered enough money for her purposes. Lucy is certain she just needs one more battle to unlock another level, just as she had been for three floors now. Fred, well, Fred is just as hopeful as Lucy, even more desperate than Gila, and utterly hopeless. He needs more ability points to start walking the path of his dreams and become a guard.


    You¡¯re gonna regret this, the voice of reason whispers in my ear, and I know my life would have been better had I just listened to that voice, both this one and the one before and even the one before,. But if I had listened to it, I would have abandoned my wife in the forest, long before we became what we were. If I had listened to it, I would never have met her, I never would have slapped an underworld judge while I was facing judgment for my sins.


    ¡°Fine, but as soon as things grow too tough we¡¯re leaving. That means as soon as anyone suffers a scratch!¡± They almost jump and cheer.


    One would say they are immature for their age, but I¡¯ve seen soldiers, storming walls, throwing their lives over a handful of words and wise ministers and advisors jeopardizing their careers and risking their lives, freedoms, and salaries over a couple months¡¯ worth of money. So, I can¡¯t really say jumping with joy at the prospect of increasing one¡¯s wealth and personal power is a childish thing to do.


    I can recall a handful of moments when I, a wise king, did a happy jig when nobody was looking.


    ¡°And I will test the waters whenever we start a new floor. Meaning I will take the lead, and if I think the monster is too dangerous, we¡¯re going out. Got it?¡±


    They nod like the good little children that they are. Greedy, oblivious of danger, but good. I hold back a sigh. I¡¯m doing something dumb again, but it¡¯s better than letting them delve alone.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    We head back to the stairway. I¡¯m already used to the dark, my eyes seeing more or less fine. Not daylight fine, but a clear, moonlit night. The stairway is hidden behind a rock this time, still close to the entrance. I lead the way down the dark stairway, which gradually grows lighter as we near the bottom.


    The eleventh floor isn¡¯t at full luminosity, meaning the dungeon hasn¡¯t regenerated all the monsters since someone had last passed this way. That¡¯s fine, it should make our run easier, even if we miss out on some of the bounty.


    The forest is similar to the one above at a casual glance, but mine isn¡¯t casual. The trees and bushes have wicked, hooked barbs. Getting my arms or legs caught on one wouldn¡¯t hurt much, but it could hamper movement at a vital moment. Enough for a claw to clamp around an unwary delver¡¯s ankle, enough for a lobster to snap their leg, or for the tarantula-like thing to stab its stake-like fangs and deliver an unpleasant dose of venom.


    After two steps, another part of the challenge becomes apparent. The soil is wetter somehow, easier to slip, easier to stumble, and both of these tiny obstacles will surely hamper Lucy¡¯s strong points.


    We step into the forest, our eyes and ears peeled. I¡¯m five steps ahead of the kids, enough to give me room to maneuver. Almost invisible in the foliage, the freaky mantis strikes. Like a serpent, my staff weaves between its sickle-like arms before the slash lands. It obliterates the giant bug¡¯s head and its headless body falls to the ground, spasming and curling up.


    ¡°Do you think you can handle that?¡± I ask Fred and Lucy, who nod without hesitation.


    I¡¯m not positive, but if they say so. ¡°This is not a game, you could lose an arm or your life.¡±


    I can tell they are struggling not to roll their eyes. Understandable to an extent. I¡¯ve issued similar warnings plenty of times over the past few days.


    My warning was unneeded. Lucy slays a mutated spider, Fred takes out a new critter, a vicious-looking caterpillar covered in foot-long spines. One by one, we kill them all. The floor was infested with several hundred bugs, and clearing it took most of the day.


    By the time we¡¯re done, Fred and Lucy are sweaty and exhausted, while I¡¯m just sweaty. I bet we reek horribly, but we¡¯ve been down here a while, getting used to our delightful aromas by imperceptible increments as days passed. If our state persists, we¡¯ll gain a skill that knocks out various lifeforms using nothing but our body odors.


    While certainly difficult, the eleventh floor is quite lucrative. The treasures we¡¯ve gained are practically as valuable as everything we¡¯ve gathered so far, and I finally understand why the veteran hunters skip the first ten floors.


    We rest for the evening, enjoying a surprisingly succulent centipede. Fred and Lucy split the night¡¯s watch, and I trust the kids fully. I¡¯ve stayed awake the first three nights, making sure they don¡¯t doze off, after which I¡¯ve agreed to a schedule where everyone gets one whole night of sleep after keeping watch for two nights in a row.


    Nothing happened so far, but I can bet paranoiacs live longer in situations like this. I wake up in the morning, alive and well, and we visit the twelfth floor, which starts much the same, but I keep my eye out for any sudden surprises.


    Edna warned me the difficulty spikes every ten levels, and I believe her.


    Lucy¡¯s fighting a mantis, her third opponent on the floor. They are tough for the kids, since they have short reach because of their clubs, which also makes the mantises great training and likeliest level up opportunities.


    I hear the bushes rustle before I see it. A tarantula pounces from the forest, biting straight for Lucy¡¯s leg. I jump to help, but I¡¯m too far away. Fortunately, Lucy leaps away, yielding ground to the insectoid monsters.


    I¡¯m tempted to tell Fred to help her, but I¡¯m not gambling with their lives.


    ¡°The mantis is mine,¡± I rush towards them, and the tarantula, quicker than the mantis, is already upon Lucy. She brains it with her club and ducks under the mantis¡¯s serrated limb, but there¡¯s no way she could avoid the followup. Too focused on its prey, the mantis sees me too late. My staff caves its chest in, sending it flying through the forest until it strikes a tree.


    ¡°Thanks!¡± Lucy beams me a smile.


    ¡°We¡¯re not retreating yet.¡± Fred¡¯s voice is hard and forceful. I guess he also believes this could be a good chance to level up. It certainly is for our acrobat, she might be pressed into fulfilling her level up condition, but it could also be something like, ¡®perform before a crowd of twenty spectators.¡¯ There¡¯s no way to know until I take the class.


    As for Fred, his chances are slim. I¡¯ve tried everything I could do to help him, no luck. I hold his steely gaze, and he¡¯s not backing down.


    ¡°Fine, but the first cut¡ª¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re out of here,¡± all three of them say in a chorus.


    Cheeky little bastards!

 Chapter 16 - Time to Leave

    Day 14, 8:00 AM


    I stare at the stairs leading down. Floor fourteen; I can¡¯t believe the kids made it this far. Here, on the thirteenth floor, even Gila had to join the fighting, and she somehow snatched a level out of it. Most miraculously, none of them suffered a scratch.


    I don¡¯t know how. Dumb luck, I guess.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± I look at them, and they nod, their faces stern and determined, like those of professional mercenaries. Except that professional mercenaries have seen a fair share of people die, and would know when to stop, even if they were on a winning streak.


    Yeah, no. Not all of them were smart. A fair share of them died to greed and stupidity, and I don¡¯t want the kids to suffer the same fate. I close my eyes.


    I get it, they need a bit more money, but it would be safer to leave now. Another part of me argues the point. And then what? They come back alone, without me, and delve deeper? They might die on the twelfth floor, maybe even eleventh. And they sure as hell won¡¯t come back dozens of times to grind the first five or six floors.


    ¡°Fine, let¡¯s go.¡± I hate myself as I say the words, but there¡¯s no protecting them from themselves. What will be will be. At least if we gather enough money, Gila won¡¯t come back, and with their party two members short, Fred and Lucy should steer away from this death-trap.


    With a heavy heart, I take the point, like always, and the pit of the stairway looks like a gaping abyss about to swallow us. We reach the bottom, and the floor looks no different from the previous one, or the ones before it. The illumination is back to full, meaning the floor is also full, but that was to be expected.


    The floors were getting brighter, and I could tell we were slower than the previous crew that delved and cleared this portion of the dungeon. I stop myself from seeing the fact in an ominous light. Given how things were going, it was expected that at some point we¡¯d reach a full floor.


    I take a step towards the forest, noting the squish my boot makes and translating it into how slippery the terrain is.


    ¡°Watch out, it¡¯s slick.¡± I warn the rest, and I can feel the kids rolling their eyes behind my back. Something glints in the forest ahead at neck height, and I stop. I strain my eyes, taking half a step back, and I catch the shine at just the right angle. A nearly invisible strand bends light just the right way for me to see it.


    ¡°There¡¯s some spider web ahead. Be careful.¡±


    I take my time approaching. The web is unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen. I can¡¯t even call it a web, the spider scattered its silky threads all over the place at different heights, ranging from ankles to a full foot above my head. I reach the nearest one and pluck a leaf to test how sticky it is.


    The leaf touches it, but doesn¡¯t stick. Instead, it sinks, and the web slashes clean through it. The worst part is I feel no pressure.


    ¡°Watch out, these are really thin and strong. They are probably sharp enough to cut you.¡±


    I break a branch and try it, but the thread bends, it¡¯s not sharp enough to sever wood. I¡¯m about to draw it back, when my keen intellect makes me try something else. The branch slides across the thread, and my hand moves forward without resistance, followed by the top half of the stick falling to the ground.


    ¡°Stand back.¡± I look at the kids, and they are staring at me with confused frowns, confusing me in turn.


    ¡°Do you know something about this?¡± I ask, and they shake their heads.


    ¡°They are just threads, why don¡¯t you cut them, and we can continue on our way?¡± Fred asks, and I can¡¯t believe that the dumb kid doesn¡¯t see the danger.


    ¡°I was about to do that, but I need you to understand one thing. These things are dangerous, they can kill you in an instant, and if we miss any, we might die. Do you understand?¡±


    They nod, but understand nothing. I feel like screaming at them. They have no idea what death entails. The pain, the misery, the helplessness. I hold back a sigh and cut the strand with my wooden sword. The blade slashes through it with no difficulty. The thread twangs like a bowstring, snapping left and right, trimming the bushes.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Something else rustles high above me and I jump back, scattering the kids as I do so. A yellow and green orb-weaver dives, hanging off a thread, another strand of silk held between its frontmost forelegs, aimed to cleave me in half.


    I splatter the damn cat-sized thing with my staff before it runs away. Its body explodes, but not before I commit its appearance to memory. Five pairs of legs and four short tentacles ending with bladelike-stingers around its maw make up its appendages.


    I examine what little¡¯s left of the body I slammed into the ground, and find a whole feeder tentacle.


    It¡¯s not venomous. I frown at the realization, however, I almost immediately know why. Given its hunting practice, it needs no venom. The spider-thing¡¯s prey doesn¡¯t get caught in the web, nor offers resistance. Even if the unfortunate survivor merely loses a limb, the spider could just safely eat what¡¯s left behind, or decapitate the prey with its bungee jump.


    I glance back at the kids.


    ¡°Whenever I or anyone else spots the spider-silk, I take the point. This thing is too dangerous for you.¡±


    Fred is about to argue.


    ¡°That, or we leave now. Got it?¡±


    They cross their arms and sulk, but I don¡¯t care.


    ¡°Got it?¡± I turn towards the exit and take an intimidating step before they stop me.


    ¡°We got it.¡±


    ¡°Come on, I want another level.¡± Gila pleads, and I almost laugh at the joke that is not a joke.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I grumble, and reluctantly let Lucy take the lead.


    ¡°Wait.¡± I stop her, severing all the visible treads, making sure no new spiders rain on our heads.


    The orb-weaver¡¯s territory is surprisingly small, but it¡¯s riddled with traps and splatters of dried ichor, where the floor¡¯s other denizens unwittingly stumbled upon death.


    Can I make a weapon out of this? It could be pretty lethal, if I could harness the thread¡¯s destructive potential the right way without decapitating myself or losing digits. There was that flail proficiency, but it would take me years to get it all on my own without an advanced teacher.


    The floor plays out much the same as the previous one, with two exceptions, the fights are closer together, with less time to rest and recover, and the spider-silks appear from time to time. The latter isn¡¯t much of a problem. I take point and deal with the strands and the decapitation-prone orb-weavers.


    My unease subsides, but I¡¯m looking for an opportunity to let one of the kids get a light injury, so that I could send them back home with their loot. With what we gather here, the haul should be big enough for Gila to cash out and get on track to becoming a tailor.


    While I¡¯m counting coin, Lucy is fighting a centipede, a good chance to kick them out, since the crawlies are fast and come in groups of three to five. They aren¡¯t venomous either, and while their jaws are sharp, they aren¡¯t lethal enough to kill with a single blow.


    The bushes rustle, the second one is about to appear from Fred¡¯s side. He can take it, regardless of which tiny mutation the monster has developed. So far, mutations have been pretty tame on centipedes. The monsters can get faster, sturdier, or bigger.


    Fred lunges forward to intercept his centipede, and I catch a rustle from the other side. The bug would flank Lucy, but she¡¯s fairly good at dodging multiple opponents, so I let her take on two of them. She has handled tougher fights on the thirteenth floor.


    The centipede appears, but Lucy was keeping an eye out for it and deftly dodges the surprise attack. The girl is graceful, not just because of a high attribute, but she has a natural affinity for using her body the right way. Like she has another set of eyes telling her how to move and where to shift to find safety.


    Her prescience reminds me of Danger Sense, one of the most powerful skills I¡¯ve seen. A skill so good I¡¯ve considered becoming a bodyguard multiple times and plowing through the class just to get it.


    Another bush rustles, a third centipede heading for Lucy. It would be her first time fighting three against one at the same time, but I¡¯m confident she can handle it with nothing but minor injuries. Fred¡¯s the problem.


    He smashes his centipede with a loud crack, and he could run to reinforce Lucy. Luckily, he is taking his time, certain I will jump to his cousin¡¯s help.


    As much as it grates my gut, I step forth a breath too late. I won¡¯t be in time to reinforce Lucy, but I will be there to keep the centipedes off her once she suffers an injury. With Initial Emergency Treatment and Advanced Healing, I¡¯m confident nothing bad will happen to her, and I know I can smash three centipedes in a matter of moments.


    As expected, the centipede throws itself at Lucy, but the deft girl twists and lets it fly past her. She¡¯s excellent. I¡¯m seriously tempted to ask her to join me. While I have no interest in conquering the world this time, I will do everything I can to advance Anarchist, since I carry the class and its skills from one life to the next.


    Something thuds behind me, interrupting my thoughts. Lucy is doing too well, so I turn around in time to see the other thud as it happens. Gila¡¯s headless body lands in the bushes, spraying blood like a fountain.


    I¡¯m used to gore, but my stomach twists. I wanted to keep them safe, to help them. How?


    A string of red dots catches my eye, and I spot a thread. It¡¯s coated in Gila¡¯s lifeblood.

 Chapter 17 - Strategy

    Day 14, 11:20 AM


    A red bead slides along the thread suspended about seven feet up in the air. It hits another; they merge before half of it drops to the ground. I¡¯ve seen thousands die. I¡¯ve probably killed tens of thousands. Two of my sons have died bloody deaths in distant lands, trying to impress me, and yet Gila¡¯s feet sticking out of the bush make my skin crawl.


    To me, this entire floor is a game. I can run through it, slaying monsters in a quarter of the time the group needs, but in my game, in letting kids experience life, one of them died.


    ¡°Griff!¡± Fred shouts, and I turn around.


    The centipedes are pressing Lucy. She jumps, somersaulting midair, like she often does¡ª


    ¡°No!¡±


    The warning comes too late. I actually close my eyes, like a frightened child, trying to push against reality by not witnessing what¡¯s happening. Shutting out my sight, opens up my hearing to Lucy¡¯s anguished scream.


    I look at her and regret what I see. Initial Emergency Treatment informs me she will die in a minute, and pass out in seconds. Lucy lands in the bushes with two distinct thuds, but the centipedes don¡¯t even give her those seconds of peace. Fred is the only one alive, his pale flesh revealing capillaries void of blood.


    I can save him.


    I blur into motion, slaying the centipedes in moments, trying not to see what¡¯s left of Lucy. The forest is silent, and I hear the rush of wind as the orb-weaver makes its attack. My staff whistles through the air, smashing it into a mass of limbs and gore before it manages to decapitate Fred.


    The young man is staring in shock, unable to utter a word. His eyes wide and unfocused.


    ¡°Get out!¡± I point towards the exit, shaking with fury. No, it¡¯s guilt, I know it. All my negative emotions come out as rage and anger, but I know what¡¯s shaking me right now.


    Fred jumps, his wild gaze focusing on me. ¡°They¡¯re dead?¡±


    The words leave his mouth, almost sounding like a question. ¡°Lucy and-and Gila, they¡¯re dead.¡±


    He just keeps repeating, ¡°they¡¯re dead.¡± I can¡¯t take it anymore. In three brisk strides, I¡¯m next to him and place a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Fred swats away my arm or at least tries to, but hardly moves it. He looks at me like he¡¯s seeing me for the first time. ¡°You could¡¯ve saved them! Look at how strong you are, but you did nothing! You-you killed them!¡±


    He splatters me with spit, raving in my face. He¡¯s not exactly wrong. Yes, I could have just cleared the floors myself, gave them the money, and let them have enough never to return here, but that wasn¡¯t why they were here. Well, Gila was, she said in the bluntest words possible she just wants the money and never to leave the castle ever again. But Fred and Lucy were here to learn how to fight. To level up. To pursue their dreams with what they learned.


    I notice I¡¯m hyperventilating. I can fix this, but it comes at a terrible price, I may lose myself, I may go mad again.


    ¡°Fred, get out of here.¡± I tell him, but he glares death at me.


    ¡°No! You¡ª¡± I slap him so hard he spins in place.


    ¡°Fred, I always liked you the least of the three. Your dream was the dumbest, least inspiring thing I¡¯ve heard in a long, long while. You lack talent, you¡¯re weak, and no matter how much you were pretending to be brave, you used the girls as a crutch and a barometer to gauge the situation. ¡®If Gila can handle it, so can I.¡¯ How many times did that thought cross your mind? Well, let me tell you, Gila was ten times more special than you are, but she¡¯s dead and you¡¯re alive, so suck it up.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    I point towards the exit again. ¡°The exit is that way, it¡¯s free of monsters, get out of here, and be a laborer or something.¡±


    He stands, staring at me like a fawn before the headlights.


    ¡°GO!¡±


    He runs, my shout so loud it probably shook his bones, yet it barely vented five percent of my anger. I¡¯m not angry with Fred, the incompetent little fuck. No, I¡¯m angry with myself, the incompetent big fuck. What the hell was I thinking?


    Too much rage has built up inside me, and I express it the only way I ever knew how, through carnage. I move through the fourteenth floor like a storm of limbs and ichor. Without the kids holding me back, my new body moves like my old one. My stats are a bit underwhelming, but inside is the same god of war the continent feared, the engine of destruction which years of peace had dulled, but not broken.


    By the time I blow enough steam to calm down, I¡¯m already slaughtering my way through the sixteenth floor, the light going out. I cleared it. I heave a deep breath and punch a tree so hard we both bleed.


    ¡°This is not how you handle problems, and you know it,¡± I say to myself. Manny would¡¯ve told me what to do. It would have hurt her to say it, but she would have said it, I know she would have.


    I have to Redo. I retch at the thought, the terror squirming in my guts finally bursting out.


    ¡°Just once, once. I will kick them out of the dungeon when we reach the fourteenth floor, and that¡¯s it.¡± Maybe give Gila enough loot to work on her future, having someone as talented at leveling up owe me one can¡¯t be a bad thing, since I plan to stay in this world a long while, a lifetime, if possible.


    The only question is when to redo. I¡¯ve been rampaging for five hours, and going back in the middle of talking with Edna is out of the question. She¡¯s smart and perceptive, and if she notices something, I might be toast.


    It¡¯s the fourteenth day, around four in the afternoon. I can¡¯t kill myself in less than five days, well, three, but better safe than sorry, Edna might have been monitoring me with magic somehow while I was outside the dungeon.


    So five days. I have to behave for five days and not act too suicidal, and then I¡¯ll plunge as deep as I can in this dungeon and see what¡¯s down there. Edna said the spell which created the dungeons should have made it one hundred floors deep, with the wormlord buried beneath the final level.


    That¡¯s technically one hundred and one floors.


    I don¡¯t care about the loot, nor about anything else, so I head to the next floor. By the time I grow tired, I¡¯m down on the eighteenth.


    I can do one more before I rest. The darkness doesn¡¯t bother me anymore. Confidence in my own ability and no kids to watch over, plus hunting down the spider silks while the visibility is good, means I¡¯ve got little to fear after eliminating the monsters. Just in case, I retrace my steps to the exit, no need to risk stumbling upon a strand I missed.


    I stand at the stairway leading down to the nineteenth floor.


    Nah, I¡¯ll do it tomorrow. I¡¯m tired. It has been ages since I¡¯ve last fatigued my muscles enough for me to feel like I need rest, but my eyelids are heavy, and I really need sleep, with adrenalin, or whatever courses through your body when you¡¯re furious, spent.


    I find a nice nook and crash, crimson nightmares gnawing at my soul. Fred is there, and I kick him in the orb-weaver¡¯s path to save Gila. The spider decapitates him, then Gila, and I wake up with a scream.


    I didn¡¯t know I disliked Fred that much. I wipe the sweat off my forehead, and with zero appetite, I head down the stairs, ready to face the nineteenth floor¡¯s horrors.


    They were much the same as the seventeenths, and eighteenth, and twentieth. The sole difference was the number of bugs crawling towards me, but even that mattered little. Whether ten or fifteen swarmed you made little difference, at least to me. My staff moves as if it has a life of its own, and I focus on the blessed feeling of perfectly controlling the weapon, sensing what my fingers, hands, and wrists are doing.


    I try to move differently, to decrease the efficiency, but the skill takes over, then I attack thinking about every angle, and feel the minute corrections. Hours pass and levels pass until there are no more corrections, my mind has caught up with the skill, and I believe I can replicate its effect even without it.


    A wondrous feeling. I check BSD, and note that my class has changed.


    A battle maniac? Fight for an hour without stopping.


    That¡¯s a tough level up condition just to escape level zero, but it¡¯s not impossible. I just need a floor infested with as many bugs as I can find.


    Wait! I should redo to the moment when I first met Fred and the rest, or at least before I level up sparring with him. Then, if I pick ax and flail skills, I¡¯ll have flail proficiency, I¡¯ll boost it with Blunt Weapons Master, and I can learn to wield the dagger on my own, making it easier to level up.


    That means I have to get a hang of the dagger in the next few days before I redo.

 Chapter 18 - Danger

    Day 18, 9:10 PM


    I stare down the stairs leading to the thirty-second floor. The thirty-first was tougher than floors twenty-five through thirty put together, but the Guide rewarded me for the first time. I got an attribute point I invested into strength. With the one I got from leveling up battle maniac, my strength has reached twenty-one.


    The class, however, is horrible, and dangerous, and really something only maniacs should take. My skill choices were Initial Frenzy and Initial Disregard Wounds. The former seemed like a weaker version of my Rage. Losing your mind while fighting for a minor increase in physical prowess is a losing proposal, especially when it comes with an Initial tag.


    Initial Disregard Wounds is just as bad. Not feeling minor injuries during battle could be a fast track to the grave. Since I¡¯m redoing this, battle maniac has become a forbidden class, one I must never take. At least it¡¯s easy to avoid. Just don¡¯t start a mindless carnage without caring for your own safety or something firmly tethering you to your current class.


    I glance at my dagger, and I think I¡¯ve gotten enough feel of how to use it to recover the initial grade proficiency. With a fluid move, it goes behind my belt while I draw my staff with the other hand.


    The night has started outside. Two weeks ago, I¡¯m resting, half-asleep, a tree drinking up the rain above my head. Even if Edna is monitoring me, a man twitching in his sleep just after arriving in an alien world should attract no scrutiny.


    With one final, unwilling breath, I head down the stairs.


    I don¡¯t run. The thirty-first floor¡¯s denizens beat that bad habit out of me. Phasmatodea are terrifying in this world. A hip-high bush covered in finger-long thorns jumped me, the flurry of its whirling spines catching me by surprise.


    The wounds I suffered were minor, my staff stopping most of the blows, dragging my arms along with it. However, the experience was a wake-up call.


    I step off the stairs and into the thirty-second floor¡¯s clearing. The clearings have been shrinking steadily ever since the twenty-fifth floor, and this one is just a handful of yards. I scan the edge of the forest, a briar bush catching my attention.


    My staff screams through the air and bashes the bush, breaking several branches. It was just a common bush, unlike anything I¡¯ve seen above the surface, and even my herbalism skill fails to identify it.


    I remain still for five breaths, waiting for an attack. There¡¯s none. The coast is clear, or more likely, I¡¯m surrounded by ambush predators. My staff moves constantly, seeking invisible death-strands, which could sever my libs or head at the barest moment of carelessness.


    A thread catches my staff, and I retreat a step, my boot landing exactly onto my old footprint. Every other path could be compromised.


    I look up, searching for the spider. Striking its web will certainly summon it from wherever it¡¯s hiding. The leaves don¡¯t rustle, and unlike the spiders before the twenty-fifth floor, this one doesn¡¯t zip through the air, making convenient warning sounds. Instead, these move with insidious slowness.


    My staff moves around me, making dull whirling sounds as it wards off any webs I may have missed. I missed none, but I keep my stance. I have one obvious weakness, my legs are defenseless, completely exposed. An invitation I¡¯m certain an apex predator would notice at a glance. I would have preferred an opening at chest height, but that¡¯s nearly impossible to achieve if I¡¯m protecting everything else.


    My heart beats faster. Blood throbs through my neck. I force my breath to calm, my pupils probably cover the entirety of my eyes, despite the good illumination. It¡¯s an illusion, I know, but I have a feeling I have three-sixty vision, searching for death.


    I¡¯m uncertain what gave it away, but I whirl around just as the abomination jumps at my legs. Its two sets of foremost limbs each hold a razor-sharp thread. The twelve-legged orb-weaver-thing is two feet across, free of fangs, with those weird blade tentacles near its maw.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    It¡¯s too fast. The thread severs my pant leg and bites into my flesh before my staff swats the spider aside, destroying its body.


    I watch the blood ooze out of the wound. It¡¯s a slight cut, so thin the bleeding stops almost immediately.


    Bloody BSD and bloody skills! I feel nothing. Without sensing pain, I could¡¯ve lost the whole foot, not knowing something was amiss until I toppled over, probably beheading myself on another thread.


    I wave my staff in the direction I guess I should have fallen, and sure enough, there¡¯s a thread there. Spiders are eerily smart critters, and these mutated things can probably rival human intellect.


    Maybe I should push my physique further, rather than strength. Having better eyesight seems orders of magnitude more important than being stronger, at least on these upper floors.


    I should aim for all physical stats at twenty-five. That would make this body considerably stronger, more agile and durable than my old one. One-point-six times, to be more exact, and four-point-two times better than an average human body.


    Unfortunately, my senses aren¡¯t there yet, and the rest of the thirty-second floor is quiet. The battle lasted only a moment, a single dull thud in which I smeared the spider; it¡¯s entirely possible nothing heard it.


    I doubt it. I keep my eyes peeled, my ears striving to evolve into those of a bat, and my uncanny nostrils flaring. Nothing. No motion, no change of light or play of shadows, no sound, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the unnatural breeze, which serves no other purpose than to confuse the senses.


    I hate this place.


    I take a step, then another, snapping the dead spider¡¯s threads with my staff. Seven snap before I leave its domain. Two steps later, I see a cross between a thornbush and a sea urchin. I smash it before it gets the chance to strike; another false alarm. It was just a regular plant, now with a handful of broken branches.


    I don¡¯t feel stupid one bit for attacking bushes and air. Any of those bushes might be out to stab me with its spines and feast on my flesh while every cubic foot of air might be concealing an invisible guillotine.


    While I technically am aiming to die within the next ten to twelve hours, I¡¯m in no rush. Death is always at most one strike away. I¡¯ve lost count of how many times I¡¯ve brained myself over the centuries.


    My grim thoughts don¡¯t distract me. My arms, legs, and eyes are doing their job with hardly any need for my brain to get involved. Skulking on autopilot, I reach the next stairway. I head down without hesitation.


    My goal isn¡¯t to clear the floors, nor is it to survive. What I want is to see how scary things become on the lower floors. If I¡¯m already wasting my life, that information seems more valuable for the future me than the layout of a floor I can already beat.


    As expected, the clearing of the thirty-third floor is even more cramped. Hardly enough space to maneuver. I carefully head towards the stairway leading to the next floor. Against all hope, luck is on my side, and the path is clear. I still take the better part of an hour to cover several dozen feet, looking out for traps and ambushes.


    Thirty-fourth floor seems to be the last one with any clearing. I press my lips together and head for the next stairway. The plan is to reach floor forty-five, preferably fifty. Each of these will take a day to clear, so Redo will reset.


    I almost slap myself.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± Blunt speaks my terrified thoughts aloud, and I clamp my mouth shut.


    I turn left and right, rustling is rushing towards me from three directions.


    Fucking great.


    I¡¯ve learned on the thirty-first floor that the monsters rushing towards you are just the beginning. The noise will attract more, and then that noise will attract more.


    ¡°I hope I survive.¡± Blunt does it again, and I can¡¯t even feel angry with the BSD. I¡¯m about to survive thanks to that skill.


    A rhino beetle¡¯s bigger meaner cousin scuttles at me, its forked, barbed horn aimed at my chest, its savage, dagger-filled maw snapping at my legs. Its horn and carapace are as tough as old wood. My staff is tougher, my muscles tougher still. I dodge the brutal stab, smashing my staff at the triceratops like armor protecting its head.


    The jaw snaps shut, teeth shattering. The motion dulled the blow slightly, but slightly is the key word. A split second later, the carapace bursts, orange ichor spraying everywhere.


    I curse under my breath. The blow echoes through the forest like a freaking gong, almost certainly drawing dozens of angry bugs towards me.


    I wish my level up condition was to fight for two hours without stopping. The situation looks like it would devolve into something like that. Unfortunately, to level up, I have to fight even after one of my limbs becomes useless. What kind of sadist came up with that? How many people have met the condition?


    I bet more than the weapon masters who switched three weapons during a single fight.


    Whatever.


    A centipede the size of a pony, its back covered in a headdress of thin, sharp spikes is upon me, and my staff sends its broken body flying towards another rustling bush. It pierces a bear-sized lobster, which hisses and snaps its claws to sever the body into pieces.


    This is floor thirty-one all over again.

 Chapter 19 - Second Chance

    Day 19, 2:00 AM


    Funny story. I leveled up. My arm¡¯s a mess, and whoever came up with the idea of crossing lampreys with octopuses and blenders must have also had an insane level up condition.


    I limp away from the thirty-seventh floor, alive only because Rage kicked in after I lost most of my left arm to the said blender. My heart is slogging away, trying its best to keep me alive while short a bucket of blood. Tough luck. Breathing is getting harder with every passing minute, and no matter how much my body tries, my mad brain has decided it¡¯s time to end things.


    Somehow, I reach the bottom of the stairs. I step off, and a mantis shrimp from hell flies at me like an arrow loosed from a bow. The psychedelic dancing colors of its massive carapace boxer gloves make for one hell of a last sight, ruined by the teeth, spikes, and one of the creepiest sets of eyes I¡¯ve ever seen.


    The sucker brains me like a cannonball, killing me so fast I don¡¯t even register the pain, let alone the Vengeful explosion following the failure of my heart.


    I open my eyes. Two weeks ago, I was asleep, huddled at the base of a tree. My heart is sprinting, as if overjoyed it has blood to pump once more.


    Afraid Edna is watching, I shift into a more comfortable position and close my eyes once more. I summon BSD with a thought, and just as expected I¡¯m a level zero weapon master.


    What killed me? Other than myself.


    I consider the suicide delve, analyzing the monsters I¡¯ve fought. The real answer is no single opponent. Or more precisely, what killed me was my mad rush down the levels. Some of the later monsters were certainly terrifying, and the golden guide¡¯s rewards of two attribute points, while enticing, aren¡¯t enough for me to throw away my life like this again.


    The real question is why did I get that reward? Who are the ¡°we¡± behind the dungeon?


    Edna said the dungeon is designed to drain life force from the trapped wormlords and bestow it upon the delvers. Maybe I would have believed it if not for that ¡°we¡±. Did the spell create those ¡°we¡±, or have they come to power later? One possibility is the wormlords gaining control over the spell, the other is dungeons becoming sentient, or there could be a third party, or the ancient archmages who created the spell had somehow linked their consciousness or lives to the dungeons or the system.


    Ultimately, it¡¯s pointless speculation, but I should assume the ones behind the system have their own agenda. A healthy dose of paranoia says they are malicious and out to destroy me for their own benefit. Which gives birth to another question. Do I activate the Guide or not?


    Free attribute points are one heck of a carrot to dangle before me, ensuring the kids, Fred included, survive and return home safely is almost just as big. So, yeah, I¡¯m going there. Edna has activated her own Guide, she has had it for decades, if the inquisition had somehow hijacked it, they would¡¯ve burned her alive by now. And objectively, if it¡¯s the wormlords, they would have conquered the world or at least escaped the confines of their dungeons.


    I¡¯m still somewhat worried, but my BSD screen didn¡¯t show any odd statuses after I activated the Guide, so, I guess it should be fine.


    I hate this life. Not this one in particular, but why can¡¯t I reincarnate as an office worker who suffered a heart attack or something? Live a life of comfort and luxury. But I guess, you don¡¯t get something like that as a punishment after slapping the person in charge of your reincarnation opportunities.


    I toss and turn in half sleep, a part of it honest expression of my feelings, but most of it a show for Edna. Finally, I get up around three in the morning, two hours before I set off the last time and start practicing slashes with my dagger.


    I can hardly see anything, but what¡¯s important is the feeling. How the knife rests in my hand, its balance, how the air sounds as I slash and stab. About an hour later, I get a notification that I¡¯ve gained the initial level of proficiency with knives and daggers.


    I switch to the staff, and it takes five minutes before I push the skill to advanced, but the predawn hour comes and expert level of proficiency remains beyond my reach. I let history unfold as it should, repeating the conversations to the best of my ability, which given my wisdom and intellect means I do a near-perfect repeat, changing my skill choices slightly to accommodate for what I know about my future level up condition. Not taking Advanced Swordsmanship in favor of Initial Axmanship hurts a bit. I could¡¯ve gotten that skill, if only I had an ax. Not advancing dagger mastery to gain an Initial Flailmanship, on the other hand, doesn¡¯t hurt at all and grants me the eighth weapon proficiency I needed.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Why were you showing off?¡± Lucy asks, following the script. ¡°You obviously could¡¯ve just stabbed it with the sword right from the start.¡±


    I¡¯m about to reply, but a level up notification appears the moment I choose Blunt Weapons Master, devouring my full intention.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Battlefield Mastery - Your control over the battlefield is uncanny.


    Fearsome Presence - Wielding weapons you are proficient with intimidates your opponents.]


    My eyes go wide. I half expected I¡¯d get a ticket to Grandmaster Staffmanship. It would have done nothing to improve this life, but it would allow me to start every future life as the master of the staff. And I must admit, I would have chosen it over either of these two options, but they make for excellent consolation prizes.


    My mind races. Do bugs feel fear? Probably. But if they don¡¯t, the latter skill is a pure waste. However, if they do, fear is a weapon much more potent than having an uncanny control over the battlefield.


    I¡¯m tempted, greatly tempted to take Fearsome Presence. But what of undead, which I have seen in my previous life? What of mutated monsters created through magic? If I was the one who created them, I would certainly remove something as useless as fear, it would make them poor servants and poorer fodder.


    The gold screen appears, warning me there are mere twenty seconds to make the decision, but I¡¯ve got enough of an argument to make my choice.


    Battlefield Mastery, I think at the Guide, and both screens disappear, only for the blue one to reappear.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Never Flanked - Your opponents have a difficult time flanking you when you wield a weapon with which you have advanced or higher proficiency.


    Always Ready - You instinctively block surprise attacks when you are holding a weapon with which you have advanced or higher proficiency.]


    Two levels at once? I¡¯m stunned, but my high mental stats just steamroll the feeling, and I focus on my options. Both are great for dungeon delving. The first helps me when I¡¯m surrounded, the second when a spider tries to decapitate me, or a mantis shrimp tries to blast my head into pieces.


    I like them. I like them both. But I can avoid getting flanked by being more cautious, while surprise attacks are a nasty thing. Caution helps with those as well, though. I thought I had reached a decision, but a stray thought sent me back to square zero, and I consider the skills and abilities I currently possess.


    Surprise attacks and ambushes can instantly kill, while flanking can be avoided with Battlefield Mastery. Seems logical, and I decide to believe that logic is correct. Besides, getting ambushed and sliced by those damn spiders was annoying as hell.


    I make my call before the gold flashes and overlaps with blue, then call up my screen to check my stats.


    [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson


    Class - weapon master level 6


    Health 20/20, Strength - 19, Agility - 20, Physique - 20, Wisdom - 28, Intellect - 32, Willpower - 26, Presence - 22, Charisma - 23, Composure - 25


    Abilities - Literate, Advanced Calligraphy, Initial Arithmetics, Advanced Herbalism, Advanced Healing, Initial Focus, Initial Appraisal, Initial Woodland Sense, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Poison Tolerance, Master Rider, Uncanny Nose, Master Staffmanship, Initial Spearmanship, Initial Swordsmanship, Advanced Clubmanship, Initial Knifemanship, Initial Axmanship, Advanced Flailmanship, Advanced Slingmanship, Blunt Weapons Master, Battlefield Mastery, Always Ready


    Attribute points remaining - 2


    To level up, get advanced proficiency with five weapon categories.


    Statuses - none ]


    The level up condition is brutal, but given the skills I have available, I¡¯d say it¡¯s justified. Besides, a glance at my skills tells me Blunt Weapons Master pushed me eighty percent there, with just one more skill to push to advanced, but it could be a mountain beyond my reach.


    I invest a point into strength, pushing it up to twenty, and consider what to do with the final point.


    Practice what you preach. I praised Lucy for hoarding her spare points, so I¡¯ll keep a spare point there. The next big question is do I abandon weapon master for good, or do I try to level up again?


    ¡°Hey Griff, I asked why were you acting like such a showoff?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t hear you. I got a level¡­¡±

 Chapter 20 - Time to Leave, Again

    Day 14, 8:00 AM


    I give the same speech as last time before we descend to the fourteenth floor. I hesitate, but I still put my one available attribute point into physique, to better spot the webs. The kids¡¯ safety is important. Besides, I would¡¯ve eventually invested a point there anyway.


    I lead the way and reach the fourteenth floor. Ten percent increase in my eyesight, or twenty-six percent of an average human¡¯s, makes for a huge difference. The threads, which were nearly invisible the first time, now refract light even from the middle of the clearing, giving me ample time to prepare. Plus, there¡¯s another change. I might be imagining it, but the kids¡¯ footsteps against the stone stairway echo louder, their sound clearer.


    Heightened senses will be useful for my own progress. I¡¯m already strong and agile enough, better perception and a sturdier body might just be worth the investment.


    The kids step onto the grass behind me, and I move forward. Once I¡¯m a step away from the web, I repeat my experiment with the leaf as well as my warnings. They are met with scorn, but these static webs are their ticket out of here.


    I snap the thread and spider in short order before clearing the path forward. Unlike last time, I don¡¯t insist on stepping forward whenever we notice the webs. We¡¯ll cycle through the order two times before Lucy leads the way into a spider¡¯s domain. Then, if she manages not to get hurt, Fred is the one to enter a spider domain right after her.


    The little critters live in pairs, their homes close, but not overlapping.


    Minutes pass, a centipede attacks Lucy, the giant land lobster Fred hates so much, but they love him rushes towards us and dies, then I swat away a tarantula, no longer hiding my skill with the staff. The kids are too unfamiliar with combat techniques to notice it anyway.


    Lucy handles another lobster, and Fred is overjoyed to have finally gotten a mantis. Like last time, he handles it without injury. I tsk inwardly. Had he suffered a slash against the mantis last time, I wouldn¡¯t have been in this mess. Now, redo is red and I¡¯m risking another cycle of deaths.


    I smash a centipede to pieces to vent some anger, and finally, it¡¯s Lucy¡¯s turn to fight the orb-weaver. She advances carefully, looking left and right for anything out of place. A rustle, she stops, but it¡¯s only the wind. Another increase in dungeon difficulty. It makes noises, movement, harmless objects which resemble monsters, and generally feels like it¡¯s out to get you the further you delve down.


    I spot the web. More importantly, I spot the orb-weaver, lurking twelve feet off the ground in the branches. I make no overt movements, nothing to give the kids a clue. But I do keep my eyes on the spider above our heads. Its razor-tentacles move excitedly when it notices us, I guess it¡¯s something akin to salivating when you see a tasty meal, but it stays put.


    Lucy freezes a foot before the strand at hip height. For a moment, I think I gave myself away, since I was ready to snatch her back, but she then whacks the thread with her club. The web shakes, but doesn¡¯t snap.


    I can¡¯t help tilting my head up a bit. The orb-weaver is on the move, its limbs dancing to move a strand of web to its frontmost legs. Fortunately, it doesn¡¯t go after Gila. Lucy is oblivious of the danger, focused on snapping the thread.


    It occurs to me I could let the falling orb-weaver slash her, but I dare not risk it.


    The spider jumps, a glistening thread connecting its butt with a branch above, another stretched between its forelegs. It hears my staff whirling, but it¡¯s too late. My staff smashes into it like a cannonball, breaking its body as Battlefield Mastery sends it flying into a strung thread. Spider chunks rain like confetti above the bushes, and Lucy takes a startled step back.


    ¡°I think we should head back,¡± I say as she bumps into me.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    She looks up at me, unwillingness and fear mixing in her eyes.


    ¡°But she didn¡¯t suffer an injury!¡± Fred protests. ¡°I know you protected her, but that¡¯s how things work on a team, right? We look out for each other.¡±


    That¡¯s one of the reasons I dislike Fred. Lucy is terrified, still coping with the fact that she could have died just now, but he¡¯s only thinking about his own ass. I glance at Gila. Her lips are pressed tight. She wants to continue, she doesn¡¯t have enough money yet, but she still has some empathy, and she¡¯s aware she¡¯s the one who benefitted the most out of the dungeon.


    ¡°I can continue.¡± Lucy stutters, and I sigh. I guess we won¡¯t get out without spilling blood.


    I motion ahead. ¡°Fine. Fred, take the lead.¡±


    The moment of realization as his eyes turn wide is another reason I want to slap him. He¡¯s fine risking Lucy, but won¡¯t risk his own ass. His hesitation lasts but a lightning¡¯s flash, and he takes the lead, hitting the thread half a dozen times before it snaps.


    He carefully handles another, then another, and then we¡¯re out of the spider¡¯s domain. Tension leaves his shoulders, and he¡¯s once again searching for danger in the bushes.


    A nearly invisible thread awaits five steps ahead, just below his shoulder height. Four, three, two. He doesn¡¯t see it. The problem is, I don¡¯t see the orb-weaver either.


    The chest part of Fred¡¯s waxed coat presses against the thread; he still hasn¡¯t noticed it. The cloth gives, and the strand bites into flesh. I pull the annoying, dumb kid back before he bisects himself.


    The orb-weaver whistles above me, and my staff whirls through the air, splattering it as blood seeps out of Fred¡¯s cut. Normal cloth would¡¯ve absorbed it, but these clothes repel blood much like they do water.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re leaving.¡± The finality in my voice leaves no room for argument. ¡°Gila, you can have my share of the loot, that should be enough for you to become a tailor without ever returning to the dungeon.¡±


    Gila¡¯s doing her hardest not to jump with joy, her eyes beaming. Meanwhile, Fred is the opposite, a broken man, pressing his hand against the cut, looking at blood seeping between his fingers in disbelief.


    Lucy is somewhere in the middle, caught between the relief of leaving the place where she could¡¯ve died, and regret that she didn¡¯t level as much as she could have.


    ¡°Lucy.¡± She¡¯s a talent worth nurturing, then it hits me. Her physique is lower than Fred¡¯s, yet she saw the threads, but he missed them.


    Perception isn¡¯t just physique. It probably has something to do with mental abilities as well.


    Lucy looks at me, and I offer a reassuring smile.


    How do I say this without sounding like a freak?


    ¡°I will probably travel a lot. If you want, I can take you with me.¡±


    Her scared, confused face brightens.


    ¡°You will have to earn your own brea¡ªkfast and meals in general. But I can make sure you¡¯re safe on your travels, if you don¡¯t mind going where I¡¯m going and getting left behind when I¡¯m in the dungeon.¡±


    The girl blushes and lowers her gaze. Understandable, she must think I¡¯m asking her to travel with me for a suspicious type of companionship when in truth, I think she might make an excellent lieutenant if I ever form an organization of sorts. And helping the young fulfill their dreams when it costs me nothing is in part its own reward.


    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± Fred shouts. ¡°Lucy, this is what he was after all along! He just wants to get into your¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fred,¡± I interrupt him. ¡°Think carefully about what you¡¯re about to say. I just saved your life when I didn¡¯t have to. I want all of you to make it, to make your dreams come true, because I want to make it too.¡±


    That¡¯s kind of lying. I don¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about his dumb dream, and I don¡¯t even know what my dream is, except that it involves being alive, happy, and with a clear conscience.


    ¡°Gila will go to Tallrock, open a shop and probably never hear from me again, and Lucy wants to travel. Tell me, how else can I help her?¡±


    Fred stares at me. He¡¯s angry, resorting to a coping mechanism to escape his fear. He opens his mouth to say something, but Lucy doesn¡¯t let him.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine Fred. Griff is a gentleman.¡± She looks at me as she speaks the word, as if to check whether she¡¯s using it correctly. ¡°I have faith he won¡¯t do anything bad to me.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. You have my word.¡±


    She nods with a smile. ¡°I believe you. Do we leave now, or are you planning on delving deeper.¡±


    Lucy is sharp. That might be why I think she would make an excellent employee. People with keen minds and positive personalities can achieve a lot in life, especially with good mentorship.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go deeper, at least to the thirtieth floor, but if I see I can manage it, I¡¯ll delve all the way to forty.¡±


    Fred looks at me as if I¡¯ve just killed his family.


    I can understand childish jealousy, but I really want to slap him. In fact, if I was a couple of centuries younger, I might have even killed him to prevent future problems. Just in case.

 Chapter 21 - Addiction

    Day 14, 10:30 AM


    With the kids safely heading for the surface, it¡¯s time to focus on myself. What do I want to do with my life? The answer is magic. But the most immediate question I need to consider is whether I wish to continue advancing the weapon master class.


    The skills I got from it are great, but the requirements for each level were steep and getting steeper. I don¡¯t know what I did to get the third level up notification in the chain, but it could be something like having a master tier proficiency with a weapon or something. And based on where things are going, it¡¯s only a matter of levels before I hit the ¡®have five weapon skills at expert¡¯. Hell, it might happen at the next level. After I waste months practicing with the sword to improve the skill to advanced tier.


    No, being a weapon master seems like a path of lifetime devotion, while I¡¯m only willing to give it weeks. Maybe not even plural. So, it¡¯s not for me.


    I firmly decide I no longer wish to be a weapon master. A moment later, I consider whether there are any lingering regrets, and I find one; Grandmaster Staffmanship, but there¡¯s no way to guarantee I would ever reach it, given my latest level up choices. I close my eyes, and meditate on my thoughts. Am I really fine with letting go of this class? The rewards are great, the requirements too high. No, they aren¡¯t worth it.


    With my heart settled, the next thing is to remind myself to never ever rush, or take too great a risk, or act in a manic way. I don¡¯t want to see the battle maniac class ever again. It¡¯s too self destructive, and the double-edged skills will stick even when I opt out of the class.


    What I¡¯m going to do is delve down, calmly, slowly, and systematically until I reach the thirty-fifth floor.


    Then, I will reconsider my options.


    Yes. That¡¯s perfect.


    Clearing the fourteenth floor is a matter of routine. I don¡¯t pick any plants, no matter how valuable, I can¡¯t risk stumbling into being a herbalist once again and losing nine levels of Fyoor¡¯s progress, which I got for free by possessing his body.


    Floor after floor, shiny rocks, nuggets of metal, and chipped gems slowly fill my bag. By the end of the fourteenth day in this world, my sack is a quarter full, floor eighteen is clear, and I¡¯m half-asleep on the branch above the stairway to the nineteenth floor.


    The next day I clear another four floors, and the Guide informs me I¡¯ve gotten my first attribute point, again.


    I invest it into physique, upping it to twenty-two. Unfortunately, my class is still the weapon master.


    I sigh. I¡¯m hardly winded, with enough stamina left for at least another floor or two. It¡¯s tempting to just keep clearing the floors, but I stop myself. No getting carried away, no succumbing to my baser instincts. Battle maniac is a thick, heavy stick looming over my butt.


    Instead, I light a fire and fix myself some roasted centipede. It sounds disgusting, and I never would¡¯ve tasted it if not for the kids screaming about finding a delicacy when we killed our first one. Funny thing, it tastes like chicken. It must be some universal thing for humans that all meat with weak flavor tastes like boiled, unsalted chicken breasts.


    I stare at the fire, ruminating on how to proceed until the meat is ready. The giant centipede¡¯s carapace snaps as I crack it open and enjoy the soft, pale flesh. It¡¯s like eating crab or lobster, if you don¡¯t think about it.


    Unfortunately, I think about it. I eat my definitely centipede until sated, leaving the rest behind. For some reason, the meat dries very quickly and becomes rubbery if you let it cool, so it has zero value as trail rations.


    I wonder how it decays, and whether you could use it for crafting or something similar?If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    My idle thoughts drift towards making a fridge, and I know one thing. Even if my body¡¯s still able, my mind is wandering. So, instead of taking the stairs, I take a two-hour-long nap, and head down fresh and completely rested. The dungeon has no cycle of day and night, and there¡¯s no reason not to listen to my body and follow my own rhythm.


    The twenty-third and twenty-fourth floors are much the same as the ones before, with more bugs and more generous donations for my sack of stones. As the twenty-fourth floor¡¯s darkness descends, it comes with a pleasant surprise.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Treasure Sense - You are drawn to precious resources and valuable artifacts.


    Hazard Sense - You are instinctively aware of nearby natural, inanimate hazards.]


    I frown, confused for a split instant, before understanding what just happened. I have changed my class and gotten my first level without even realizing it.


    The skill choice is a no brainer, I exert my will and pick Hazard Sense. I can always earn more money, staying alive takes priority.


    I check my new class, cavern explorer.


    Huh? So, BSD either doesn¡¯t recognize this as a dungeon, or it has no concept of dungeons, or maybe there is a dungeon centered class, but I didn¡¯t get it. The pace at which my mind finds possible answers just tells me how little I actually know about BSD and how it influences my life. Unfortunately, that¡¯s another matter I¡¯m helpless with, so I focus on what¡¯s in front of me.


    Cavern Explorer. There is an obvious problem with the class, I can tell by its name. It¡¯s focused on exploring, not on combat, but do I really need more combat prowess? A level six weapon master can probably wipe the floor with most other warrior classes at the same level. That¡¯s without taking into account my godly abilities or years of experience.


    Besides, I wish to walk the path of a mage in this world, having a class focused on perception and survival might actually be a good thing.


    The level up condition is pretty simple too, explore three caverns. I bump my physique to twenty-three and head towards the stairs.


    By the time I clear the thirtieth floor, I have reached the second level of my new class, added Initial Darkness Intuition to my skill list, and pushed my physique to twenty-five after the Guide awarded me another bonus attribute point two floors ago.


    My new level up condition is to find a hidden chamber in a cavern I¡¯m exploring. So far, I have tried my best, but the dungeon either has no hidden chambers, or they are too well hidden. Maybe there are some on the lower floors? Hard to tell, maybe the next floor has one. Or the one after?


    The dungeon calls to me. Not in a literal sense, but making myself stronger in such a short time is more addictive than cocaine. I sit down at the entrance to the stairway leading down to the next level. The promise of hidden chambers, of levels, attribute points. It almost makes my hands shake. A bad sign.


    The Guide can¡¯t hear my thoughts unless I want it to. I have confirmed that already. So, what¡¯s the deal with it? I understand that the general idea is to have various people challenge the dungeon, kill the monsters, and slowly sap the power from the imprisoned wormlord, but why make it addictive? Is it just me because I can delve deeper and faster than regular people? What happens when people die inside the dungeon? Do they return their vitality to it? To the wormlord?


    Something feels off. I just can¡¯t put my finger on it. While I am descending floors much faster than average Joe, that just means Joe does it slower, but he still does it. That, in turn, means the addiction I feel because of its suddenness is something people don¡¯t notice, because it happens over a longer period of time. But slowly or quickly, it doesn¡¯t matter with addiction, in the end you¡¯re hooked.


    I¡¯m tempted to turn around and leave. It¡¯s happening slower, the process is more controlled, but I¡¯m falling into the same manic pattern which destroyed my life once. More than once.


    On the other hand, attribute points are also damn tempting.


    What the hell are you thinking? I turn around and leave. A small fortune of various minerals weighs my sack, I have gained some wealth, enough attribute points, and I have more matters to discuss with Edna.


    I check BSD, Redo is on cooldown, and I stop.


    I¡¯ll delve deeper until Redo is no longer red. Then I¡¯m out of here.


    And yet another part of me grins, aware my extra time here will land me an extra attribute point or two.

 Chapter 22 - Quits

    Day 19, 5:20 AM


    The thirty-eighth floor is dark already, but my darkness intuition is helping me navigate around trees and bushes without a sound. It¡¯s a neat skill, lets you see in the dark, kind of. It¡¯s more like letting you be aware of your surroundings. The range is miserable, around one foot, and it has even more quirks.


    I tried it in full light after closing my eyes; it didn¡¯t work. There¡¯s a threshold in illumination when it kicks in, somewhere around cloudy twilight. Once the light is sufficiently dim, it works both when my eyes are open and when they are closed. I bet it¡¯ll take some getting used to outside, where the surroundings aren¡¯t quite as sterile as they are inside the dungeon. I can already imagine sensing creepy crawlies around me when I¡¯m trying to fall asleep.


    Maybe sleep with the lights on?


    The thought amuses me, but it also tells me I should head out. I¡¯ve failed to find my promised secret chambers, the Guide blessed me with two more attribute points, upping my emergency pool to three, and I really have no reason to find and kill the floor¡¯s last monster.


    I haven¡¯t been here before, but I just know it¡¯s an ambush predator. Everything else would¡¯ve rushed towards me when I banged my club and staff together to attract monsters and get this floor done. The completionist part of me is crying foul, but Redo has refreshed hours ago, and if I¡¯m not addicted, it¡¯s time to leave with my sack-full-of-jewels.


    I¡¯m kind of surprised at my own willpower as I spin on my heel and head for the exit. I pass the horror mantis shrimp and rip off two of its boxing gloves to carry with me as a trophy. It would be nice if Edna could do something with the material, since even without magical enhancement it¡¯s nearly as tough as my staff.


    Can I trust her? It¡¯s a tough question, but she trusted me enough to let me go explore the dungeon. I should at least return the favor. Give her the benefit of a doubt and all that.


    The bush I¡¯m passing is strange. Thanks to my improved perception, I can now tell the minor discrepancy between phasmids and bushes. At least on this floor. My battered staff whistles and smashes the critter into ichor and chitin, the action barely breaking my stride as the lights go out completely.


    I get no rewards. Neither blue nor gold screens inform me of improvements. The only benefit to killing the bush-bug is the sense of satisfaction at something seen through to the end. It¡¯s surprising how important getting rid of nagging feelings becomes at my age.


    A part of me, a very reckless part, wants to continue down. It¡¯s trying to mask itself as a bizarre curiosity about how the giant bugs will evolve further, which new species I will see, how many attribute points the dungeon has in store for me.


    Yeah, that last one is why I have to leave. Right now.


    Carefully climbing thirty-eight flights of stairs takes over two hours, and I consider taking a nap on the first floor just to be fresh for whatever might happen on the surface. I would¡¯ve done it too, if I wasn¡¯t afraid that the dungeon had somehow implanted the thought into my mind.


    The pitter-patter of rain becomes audible the moment I step onto the stairs leading outside. I consider the patterns and memories of various bugs I¡¯ve encountered. Their numbers grew with each floor, then sharply declined after ten floors. rising and ebbing, like a tide, but the insects themselves became deadlier.


    The new species were more dangerous than the previous ones, which sprouted seemingly random evolutions, which weren¡¯t all that random. Fast creatures became faster or more difficult to spot. Tough, strong ones grew tougher, stronger, or bigger. Is it natural evolution at play? Is it something engineered?


    I leave the stone outhouse, the inquisitors take one look at me and lock their weirdly shaped poleaxes to block my path.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Halt!¡±


    ¡°How deeply did you delve?¡±


    The question and the hostile stance snap me out of my thoughts. Fred mentioned the inquisitors take a tax upon leaving the dungeon, their fee for keeping the realm safe. I have forgotten about that.


    My mind moves like lightning, constructing a believable lie. They¡¯ll catch me red handed if I say something as dumb as twenty when I have resources from beyond the thirtieth floor. And as a matter of fact, I do have such resources. Not to mention the mantis shrimp¡¯s boxing gloves.


    ¡°Thirty-eighth.¡± I tell the truth with almost no delay as I realize that they can confirm my words by wasting a couple of hours climbing down and seeing for themselves how many lights are out.


    ¡°You speak the truth,¡± one of them says, nodding and moving his weapon out of my face. ¡°You are very talented to have cleared more than twenty floors all on your own. Why did you return before reaching the fortieth floor? You have cleared so many floors without injury, there was no reason to give up.¡±


    A valid question. One I can¡¯t answer truthfully with my suspicions about the Guide and the dungeon. Not to mention the ¡°we¡± behind the Guide. Also, the way he knew I was speaking the truth implies he might have a skill for that, or that he wants me to think that.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough. I want to go to Tallrock and see if I can find some gear that will make things easier for me.¡± That¡¯s one hundred percent true. I might not plan to do so right away, but it¡¯s definitely not a lie.


    The inquisitor agrees. He nods his hooded head, which I can now see is just as bald as that of the priest I killed minutes within reincarnating in Everrain.


    ¡°The tax for the thirty-eighth floor is one hundred and ninety silver or equivalent goods,¡± the other inquisitor says scripted words in a bored, monotonous voice. ¡°Would you prefer to pay in coins or goods?¡±


    My options are limited since I don¡¯t have a single coin. So I let them rummage through my sack with their grabby fingers. Initial Appraisal labels them mostly honest, their toll two silver coins off from the exact amount. I reckon they would¡¯ve taken more had they wanted to steal.


    ¡°Interesting class change. Smart,¡± the more verbal of the two says in passing after they put the gems and ore nuggets into their sack. ¡°Even smarter that you haven¡¯t bothered with herbs. They take up much more space and are a bother to transport without damaging them. You should consider hiring a herbalist or a porter next time, possibly both. They make the trip much more profitable.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I see no reason to act hostile towards a friendly senior less than tenth of my age. ¡°Do you see weapon masters often?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I do.¡± The chatty one replies while his colleague shakes his head. ¡°You were my first, in fact. Uncommon classes are rare. They often have powerful skills, but they are notoriously difficult to level, and it¡¯s just as tough to find a master to teach you. Basically not worth it, see, you already got two levels from a single delve. Cave explorers are rare, but at least I¡¯ve seen a few, and there are at least two still alive in Tallrock, if you¡¯re interested in an apprenticeship.¡±


    They really can see your class and level. Telling apart truth from lies seems much easier than seeing information about others¡¯ class. But they can¡¯t see my full stats. That probably means that the ¡°we¡± the Guide mentioned aren¡¯t connected with the inquisition.


    ¡°Do you have any more tips for me?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got plenty, if you don¡¯t mind sitting here in the rain with us.¡±


    One is chatty, while the other hardly opened his mouth except to say what¡¯s basically his job. The older one must be starved for company. I¡¯m certain that¡¯s not the full extent of it, my presence and charisma must have played at least a minor part in an inquisitor opening up and chatting with me.


    Jarrol, the friendly inquisitor, has one son, who¡¯s also working in the church, but apparently lacks devotion to make it into the ranks of inquisition. Jarrol is full of stories about dungeon delving, he and his party had ventured to the fiftieth floor before he joined the inquisition and became a dungeon guardian.


    I politely listen to his endless chatter, quickly understanding why his partner keeps his mouth shut, his brooding face perpetually locked in a bored expression. Finally, the man speaks about Tallrock, his home castle. The church and the guards are keeping it safe, with regular delver groups going into the dungeon to prevent monster outbreaks.


    That¡¯s the first I hear of the expression. Apparently, like hedges, if you don¡¯t trim the dungeon population frequently enough things turn messy. Old delver crews are still going strong, but the youngsters lack moderation. The brave ones often delve too deep and get themselves killed, while the cowards don¡¯t leave the castle walls.


    After lamenting the state of the youth and world in general, Jarrol finally shares some useful information, including best smithies, leatherworkers, and other assorted craftsmen a budding dungeon delver might need.


    I barely extricate myself from the barnacle, wishing them both a peaceful and uneventful watch.

 Chapter 23 - Goals

    Day 21, 10:30 AM


    ¡°Hello, Edna!¡± I greet the witch as I enter her home, surprising myself with the sincere cheeriness and the fact that I actually missed her. Edna¡¯s inside, cooking, not one whit surprised I barged in. She didn¡¯t even flinch. Meaning, she knew I was coming. The only question is when did she start monitoring me.


    ¡°I come bearing news, most of it useless to you, though.¡± That catches her attention, and I continue.


    ¡°Do you have any idea why the Guide would address itself as ¡®we¡¯?¡± I sit on the chair and take my time explaining what happened. For the first time since I¡¯ve met the woman, Edna seems stunned.


    ¡°The Guide isn¡¯t supposed to ask questions like that,¡± she says more for her own sake than mine. ¡°In theory, it might register that someone has died. I can even understand it keeping track of your attributes, since each one requires more life-force drained from the dungeon.¡±


    Thanks for not telling me that before. I figured it out on my own, but still, you could¡¯ve told me.


    I show no hint of my thoughts as she keeps talking, and asking herself how the automated spell could become curious and ask questions. It seems her mind still hasn¡¯t caught up to the fact that it addressed itself with a pronoun.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± she asks after a short soliloquy.


    ¡°Fairly certain.¡± I mind Blunt, it almost said, ¡®I double checked.¡¯


    ¡°Is it possible the archmages had left some imprint of themselves or something?¡±


    Edna shrugs and sits across from me. ¡°I don¡¯t know. The Guide and dungeons themselves are extremely complex spells, and archmages gave up their lives to cast them, using themselves as the focus. It¡¯s entirely possible something has remained.¡±


    That¡¯s another detail she failed to mention before. I knew the archmages had died, wiping out an entire social caste, but that they had used themselves as the spell¡¯s focus was new. The question is why. Were they that desperate to eliminate the wormlords, or was there a different reason? Was it a mishap?


    Do you know which combination of attributes creates perception? It¡¯s a stupid question to ask. While it interests me, it¡¯s not vital, and I can tell all my senses have improved as my physique grew. Next I explain about my attempt at cheating the Guide to get both skills at level up, and about my subsequent failure. Except for bumping up my stats, getting some riches, and meeting the kids, the expedition was a failure.


    Then again, I think I failed quite spectacularly, considering everything I got out of the bargain.


    ¡°Well, we wasted three weeks. But that¡¯s fine.¡± Edna is disappointed, but apparently she expected my failure from the start.


    ¡°I have some questions. What can we do with this sack of minerals? Can you use them, or should I sell them in Tallrock and exchange for more useful resources?¡±


    Edna pours out the contents of my sack on the table, sorting it into two piles.


    ¡°These are useful.¡± She points at the smaller one. My appraisal skill tells me the other pile is worth around two hundred and fifty silver.


    ¡°And what do we do with the other one? It¡¯s no small amount of money.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s little you can buy with money that you can¡¯t make yourself or forage for in the forest.¡±


    All right, selling these is not worth the effort. They would look good as sparkly paper weights or something along those lines. More importantly¡­This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°I¡¯ve met a talented young woman.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± One word ends the discussion, but Edna elaborates after drawing a breath to calm herself. ¡°She is young, meaning naive, almost certainly indoctrinated by the church, and she might betray us if she learns what we are about to do.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised Edna explained her reasoning to me. That¡¯s a very good sign, and it seems I was wrong about her intentions for me. I keep a healthy dose of skepticism and paranoia, but the woman seems trustworthy.


    ¡°The girl has potential, and her wish is to roam from castle to castle and to be free.¡± Edna opens her mouth, ready to speak, but I continue. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to argue. I hear you and respect your opinion. You¡¯ve been around here much longer than I have, and just because I¡¯ve spotted someone I would employ doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s worth a risk.¡±


    She nods, but I¡¯m still not done.


    ¡°Do you mind telling me what exactly is your goal in life? Because if it¡¯s just extending your lifespan and hiding from the church within the safety of your tiny cottage, death might be preferable.¡±


    She stares at me with wide eyes, her mouth open a crack.


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to antagonize you. I¡¯m older than you and let me tell you something. If you lack a goal in your life, any goal, even something as ridiculous as growing the perfect poisonous cabbages in your backyard, your life has little meaning.¡±


    I smile at her, trying to convey my honesty and good intention. In fact, there¡¯s a simple way to show her.


    ¡°My goal is to meet someone dear to me again, namely my wife, and live happily ever after together with her. To do that, I need to amass enough power in one of my lives to bend the whole world to my will, to rip her out of hell or wherever she is waiting for reincarnation. I¡¯ve never been in a world that has magic, and I hope magic can get me where I want to be.¡±


    I pause. Saying that, admitting what I just did was difficult, but also therapeutic. I still love Manny. She wanted me to let go, but letting go is for losers. I want to grab her from whatever afterlife she is imprisoned in, and give her everything. Not in the misguided way I had tried before, but to make her the real, immortal empress of the known universe, or maybe we could just wander some scenic countryside without a care in the world. She would¡¯ve liked that more.


    Edna must have sensed my sorrow, or at least the gravity of my feelings. She is silent, but her face twists with rage and hatred. Her blood vessels narrow, and she¡¯s white like a banshee.


    ¡°I want vengeance.¡± She breaks the silence. ¡°What I want is to topple the church and this aberrant social order, which has destroyed the world I lived in.¡±


    My smile disappears. The situation isn¡¯t one for fake, reassuring smiles.


    ¡°Edna,¡± I start gravely, ¡°I believe in vengeance being important. If someone hurts me or mine, I will hurt them back. In fact, I will kill them. But revenge is a losing proposal when you are the weaker party. Doing minor damage and losing your life in the process is dumb beyond words.¡±


    Trust me, I¡¯ve been there already.


    ¡°So, what you need to do is amass enough power to see it through. Do you have the resources to pull it off? Allies, underlings? What will happen after you shatter the society as it is now? Can you handle the fallout? Can you take care of the innocents left defenseless after your actions? Do you know how to restore the society to where you want it to be? Can your conscience handle the collateral damage?¡±


    She is staring at me blankly. I understand where she¡¯s coming from. Her desire is but a fancy, a deranged thought she goes to sleep with, dreaming of the glory she once enjoyed, a thirst for power she never had.


    ¡°I was a king, Edna. I conquered an entire continent. Killing people is merely the start of a very long process. It¡¯s meant as a tool to achieve an end, not an end itself.¡± I pause to let the words sink in before I continue, my words flowing much slower. ¡°If it¡¯s the other way round, Edna, then you are a monster.¡±


    I look into her brilliant eyes and smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re a monster. In fact, I think you¡¯re a good person. You¡¯re trapped with no way out, the clock ticking away. Let¡¯s start by making you the most powerful archmage ever. Once you achieve that, you can pick your own path. A paltry organization of non-mages won¡¯t be able to stand up to you, should you still feel like destroying them after reaching that point. What do you say?¡±


    She¡¯s uncertain, tempted, confused, afraid. She¡¯s been stuck in a rut for decades, hiding away in a dingy little cabin. Then, a step before accepting her own weakness, she flares with the most human reaction when one is faced with their own helplessness; anger.


    ¡°Who do you think you are?¡± Her chair squeals against the floor as she rises and points a finger at me. ¡°What knowledge do you think you have to make such claims? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to become a mage, and an archmage is an esteemed profession lost for centuries!¡±


    I remain calm. Her reaction, while disappointing, is predictable. I put my hand on hers and cover the accusing finger, but she snatches her hand away.


    ¡°No, Edna, I know none of that,¡± I admit calmly, leaning back in my chair. ¡°But I have an advantage over many generations of your people. I will have your help, and you will have mine. Together, I believe we can figure things out. We will become archmages.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Clash of Cultures

    Day 21, 4:15 PM


    ¡°One must travel a long path if they wish to become a mage.¡± Edna¡¯s voice is solemn, and I have to kneel on the ground before her as she teaches; because that¡¯s the way things are done. I don¡¯t mind, even though it¡¯s kind of annoying. A nice cozy lecturing hall with soft, leather seats would have been better for the students¡¯ morale. Less distracting for those with lower physique, too. But I guess you lose that whole moment of looking down on your students and them looking up to see your face.


    ¡°You start as an apprentice,¡± she says, ¡°as long as you have a master willing to teach and you are willing to learn, it is only a matter of time before you become an apprentice mage. The class will grant you the skills you need to master magic¡ª¡±


    My hand shots up, and a look of annoyance flashes in her eyes. Edna crosses her arms and taps her upper arm with her index finger. An uncomfortable second passes before she speaks.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Which skills? Can you learn those skills without acquiring them through the class?¡±


    ¡°I was about to mention them. The most important skills are Initial Mana Sense, without it you can¡¯t even sense the surrounding mana, Initial Draw Mana which allows you to draw mana into your body, Initial Mana Control, for obvious reasons, and Initial Awakened Consciousness to keep all of it together, otherwise you really can¡¯t process all the mana-related tasks at the time. Now, to get all four, you need to reach level five in apprentice mage. That¡¯s the earliest point at which you can leave the class, but there are benefits to remaining an apprentice for extra levels.¡±


    She pauses, and my hand is up in the air again. I don¡¯t know why, but Edna is even more annoyed.


    ¡°Why do we want mana inside our bodies? Do we spend it to use magic? Wouldn¡¯t it be better to control the surrounding mana, instead of drawing it into us and releasing it?¡±


    Edna snaps, her arms going down, her hands balling into fists. ¡°Do you have any idea what kind of honor it is for a mage to teach you personally? If someone who wasn¡¯t even an apprentice dared breathe too loud around a mage, they¡¯d kick him out and never look at them again!¡±


    Ah, so that¡¯s the problem. Tradition.


    ¡°Edna,¡± I say calmly. ¡°I am not a child seeking instruction, and you are not a near-omnipotent member of the highest social caste. I can understand your nostalgia and upbringing influencing your thoughts, but we are partners working towards the same goal. What we both want is not for you to impart knowledge on an eager child, but for us both to reach the peak of power this world has to offer.¡±


    I pause, and her high mental stats process what I¡¯m talking about almost immediately. It¡¯s strange. She offers about as much resistance to the idea as she did to my hypothesis of dungeons or the Guide being sentient.


    ¡°The questions I ask are meant to help me understand. To advance faster, to avoid pitfalls,¡± I continue after she calms down and her shoulders relax. ¡°As you know, I¡¯m not of this world, the holes in my knowledge run so deep, a child might know things I don¡¯t. So, if you don¡¯t mind, please answer my questions. Me kneeling before you like this is a sign of respect for you and your tradition, and I both respect and appreciate the fact that you are willing to teach me. Don¡¯t you think I deserve some respect and appreciation, too?¡±


    She deflates, her anger completely gone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I tried to recreate the atmosphere from when I was an apprentice. I thought it would help you learn and accept your lessons faster.¡± Her lip twists into an ugly half-smile. ¡°You¡¯re right. Do you want to sit in the chair, so we can discuss this over tea?¡±


    The shake of my head catches her by surprise.


    ¡°I wish to honor your tradition and your teaching style as much as possible, as long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with our purpose. Right now, that purpose is me becoming an apprentice mage. Who knows, maybe kneeling before a master is a part of the entry condition.¡± I offer her an honest smile, free of anger or any negative feelings. In truth, there¡¯s nothing to be angry about. Maybe I could have found myself slightly offended if I took this as a personal attack and an attempt to humiliate me, but I don¡¯t think I am. It¡¯s clear that wasn¡¯t Edna¡¯s intention.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Edna nods, but I can see the confusion and lack of conviction in her eyes.


    ¡°Do you mind answering my questions?¡±


    The blood vessels in her translucent skin widen, marbling it with red.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what was the question?¡±


    I repeat myself and she explains how mages need mana within and without to cast spells. Now I know they are called inner mana and outer mana, and that the former is used to guide the latter to achieve a specific goal.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    I¡¯m overflowing with questions, but none of them are important right now. So, I shake my head, and she continues the introduction to mage classes.


    ¡°After finishing apprenticeship, you will become a journeyman mage. That¡¯s when you start casting the simplest, formalized spells. Those are safe, well established and well explored throughout the ages. As long as your song and form are correct and fed enough mana, you can cast them. Important skills here are Initial Focus, Initial Mnemonics, Initial Overpower Resistance, and Advanced Mana Control. Yes, you have a question.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even raise my hand, respectfully waiting for her to continue, but yes, I am full of questions.


    ¡°I already have Initial Focus.¡±


    ¡°That is good. I dare not imagine what you would have been like without it.¡± What started as a praise turned into a slap, and I can¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°Touche.¡± She doesn¡¯t get it, but I don¡¯t care. ¡°What is Initial Overpower Resistance?¡±


    ¡°Each creature has some innate resistance against mana intrusion. Even some inanimate objects have it. You will need Initial Overpower Resistance for spells which manipulate creatures and certain types of objects or materials.¡±


    ¡°Is there a skill which increases mana resistance?¡±


    ¡°There is, and it¡¯s a great choice for combat mages, and I¡¯m fairly certain inquisitors have it at higher tiers. However, as a healer, I never intended to fight other mages, so I don¡¯t have it. Your physique and willpower influence your resistance to magic, to an extent.¡±


    Now that statement is interesting and opens a whole new avenue of questions.


    ¡°What about mana sense, mana control, draw mana, and such?¡±


    I can see her forcing herself to remain calm. The rational part of her is struggling with the traditions engraved into her bones.


    ¡°Wisdom influences your ability to draw mana and your ability to sense it. Mana control and overpower resistance are both tied to intellect, and no, I don¡¯t know why that is. I¡¯m not sure anyone ever asked themselves such nonsense questions.¡±


    Why on earth wouldn¡¯t you experiment to at least try to deduce the nature of magic? I mean you have magic?


    The question isn¡¯t fair. Homo sapiens on Earth existed for some half a million years, and yet they took more than four hundred and fifty millennia before they started asking existential questions.


    I consider her words, and I realize something.


    ¡°How high is your mnemonics skill?¡±


    ¡°Advanced, even when I want to, I can¡¯t forget anything. Minor details from a hundred years ago are gone, washed away by the river of time, but everything else I remember. Even if I can¡¯t recall the exact words of a conversation I had a hundred and fifty years ago, I can tell you what I discussed, with whom, and what we ate for breakfast.¡±


    All right¡­ That explains some things, like why she has a tough time letting go, why she insists on childhood customs¡ª How much does her current state hurt, if she can vividly recall how she had lived as a rich daughter and a rich woman?


    ¡°I apologize,¡± I say out of the blue.


    ¡°What for?¡± She tilts her head a fraction of an inch.


    ¡°I now understand why my breach in decorum hurts you so much, and back when we first met I told you I handle my excess memories by forgetting them. I didn¡¯t mean to point out that your seemingly harmless skill is driving you insane.¡±


    She turns pale, again. Dammit, I said something I shouldn¡¯t have once, again. Why do I keep doing that? I don¡¯t think Blunt had any part in it, so I can¡¯t even shift blame.


    ¡°Class dismissed.¡± She turns around and rushes out of the cottage.


    Great, I drove my teacher out into the rain before she managed to conclude our first session. In fact, we¡¯ve barely scratched the surface. Then it hits me. Wait! She didn¡¯t know?

 Chapter 25 - The First Lesson

    Day 21, 8:20 PM


    Edna enters the hut. She was probably right outside the whole time, crying in the rain, but I left her alone, she certainly needed some time to reflect.


    ¡°How are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Better, thank you.¡±


    I nod in understanding. She¡¯s still feeling like crap, best not to smile then.


    ¡°I have a bit of news which should cheer you up.¡±


    She gestures towards me with her chin.


    ¡°I¡¯m now an apprentice mage, my level up condition is to attend ten lessons without missing a single one.¡±


    It¡¯s a simple condition to meet when you have a personal instructor, but if you¡¯re at school or your mentor has multiple apprentices, with lessons once a week or once a month, I can see how it can trip people up.


    Edna realizes it a moment later. ¡°We always thought it had to do with how talented a student was. Journeyman mages instructing the youths used to gauge their talent, then pour in the appropriate amount of effort.¡±


    I¡¯m not one bit surprised. But the errors made by the mages of old have nothing to do with me. Instead, I need to look forward to the future.


    ¡°BSD is notorious for its level up conditions and for technicalities it uses to discard your work. So, we need to formalize our lessons. One lesson a day, minimal length of one hour, maybe make a ritual out of it, like kneeling before the teacher or something like that.¡± I point towards the chair and pour a mug of steaming heartbrew tea. ¡°Please. I want to hear every idea you have.¡±


    Offering the host a seat and tea in their own home is kind of insulting, but Edna doesn¡¯t take offense and sips on her tea.


    ¡°So, I need to come up with ten lessons.¡±


    ¡°They can be about anything, since BSD didn¡¯t stipulate lessons on magic. You can teach me how to fry honeygrubs for all it cares, as long as it follows the structure of a lesson. It¡¯s too late for lessons today, but give it some thought.¡±


    I pause, but I decide to speak my mind.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I would prefer to learn how to sense, draw, and control mana on my own, without resorting to skills.¡±


    Edna¡¯s lip twists, but I explain my reasoning.


    ¡°As a weapon master, when gaining weapon proficiencies, I had a choice between Expert Staffmanship and Advanced Clubmanship, because I already knew how to use them. Then, on the next level up, I could choose between Advanced Swordsmanship and Initial Axmanship. I have reason to believe that the level up bonus improves your skill by a step, so having those skills will mean that leveling up will improve them.¡±


    ¡°You need Initial Mana Sense before you can do anything else. I don¡¯t think you can learn it without gaining the skill, and you get it at level one.¡± Edna purses her lips. ¡°But I can try, our lesson tomorrow can be on sensing mana.¡±


    The chair squeaks against the floor as I stand up. I bow with all the formality and air of a king. ¡°Thank you, Edna, that means a lot to me.¡±


    Red marbles the woman¡¯s face, and she stutters a polite response, clearly wanting to run away and hide.


    We¡¯re about to go to bed, when I remember something.


    ¡°Edna, why didn¡¯t you tell me the floor lights dim as you kill monsters in the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°No, they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, they do. Trust me. I went there a couple days ago and cleared some thirty levels. The dungeon also changes, becomes more dangerous, and I¡¯m not just talking about the monsters.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    I tell her everything I¡¯ve noticed about how the dungeon difficulty increases, and Edna claims that wasn¡¯t the case back when she was delving over a century ago.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the sign of wormlords finally growing weaker or something.¡± She ends the discussion with that dismissal, positive the spell is working as intended, but I go to sleep more worried than I was before I got yet another flippant answer and blind faith in the infallible archmages.


    The next morning Edna wakes me up before the night¡¯s rain eases.


    ¡°I have an idea how you might be able to sense mana and gain the skill on your own.¡± She practically kicks me out of the blanket I¡¯m using both as a bed and as a cover. ¡°Take your seat, the class is about to start.¡±


    Thankfully, with my physique of twenty-five, I hardly need any sleep, and I wake up almost immediately. Like a good apprentice that I am, I kneel and wait for my teacher to start teaching.


    ¡°Mana is all around us. It¡¯s in the air, it¡¯s in the water, it¡¯s in plants and rocks and animals. It¡¯s like rain, always there¡­¡± Edna explains many things about mana, but misses the crucial part. What is mana? My tongue is burning to ask the question, Blunt choking me to do it, but I remain silent.


    If her understanding of lessons implies quiet students absorbing whatever unstructured thoughts the lecturer voices, then I have to respect the form and wait with the discussion part until her soliloquy is over and class dismissed. My mind starts drifting, but I focus on listening to her, and the errant thoughts turn to mist in my mind and disperse.


    ¡°And that concludes our first lesson.¡± Edna is struggling not to beam. She¡¯s overjoyed she got exactly what she remembered from her childhood, some bizarre wish fulfilled with her in the role of the person of authority instead of being the silent, timid student.


    ¡°I have some questions.¡± I say as soon as I finish my respectful bow.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Edna¡¯s good mood remains unchanged, but that¡¯s probably about to change.


    ¡°What is mana?¡±


    ¡°I told you, mana is all around us¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s the answer to a different question, ¡®Where is mana?¡¯ I¡¯m asking what it is.¡±


    She frowns. ¡°Mana is mana.¡±


    ¡°But what is it made of?¡±


    ¡°Mana.¡±


    Now I¡¯m getting annoyed, and she can see it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t ask what¡¯s mana. That¡¯s like asking what air is. Air is air.¡±


    ¡°Air is a mixture of gasses, mostly nitrogen and oxygen, with carbon dioxide and some others in trace amounts.¡±


    She stares at me.


    ¡°That¡¯s the chemical composition of air, more or less.¡±


    She nods slowly. ¡°I see. And can you tell me what nitrogen is?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a chemical element.¡±


    Again with the slow nod. ¡°And what¡¯s a chemical element?¡±


    I open my mouth and close it. I have no idea what¡¯s the definition of chemical elements.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know,¡± she continues, still nodding. ¡°But let¡¯s say you do. I would keep asking questions until we reach a point where you say the thing is what it is. Mana is just like that. It is what it is.¡±


    She pauses and gives me time to think. I wish to argue, but she makes a valid point. If you dive deep enough into any subject, you reach the point beyond which nothing exists, or at least we don¡¯t know anything exists.


    But you can¡¯t have a depth of one!


    I want to argue, but my argument is stupid. Who says you have to be able to divide or classify a thing at least once? Me?


    ¡°I see you understand.¡± Her voice remains calm, monotonous, superior, and most of all, irritating. ¡°Now, do you have any other questions?¡±


    How does mana fuel magic? Why does magic require mana? Is magic a natural or a man-made phenomenon?


    I have a bunch more and most of her answers are I don¡¯t know, sometimes offering tautologies as answers. Her approach to things is unnerving, superficial, almost flippant. No wonder she hasn¡¯t advanced a level in all these years.


    ¡°Is that all?¡±


    I nod, afraid I might start an argument if I open my mouth again.


    ¡°Great! Now, we¡¯re going to take a field trip.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± Why?


    ¡°We are going as deep as we can towards the forbidden area or the corrupted lands, however you wish to call them. We need to find some monsters whose bodies are overflowing with mana. I¡¯ve been thinking about how you could develop mana sense on your own, and I came up with two options. One is for me to flare out my inner mana to agitate the outer mana around us in hopes you sense those ripples. But doing that would lead the inquisition straight to my home, and we don¡¯t want that.¡±


    I agree, we don¡¯t want that. Even if you ignore the fact that I¡¯m in the company of a witch, I¡¯m now an apprentice mage and eligible for the stake treatment.


    ¡°The other, safer option is for you to slay mana rich monsters and abominations, then sit around their bodies until their mana disperses. That should give you a decent chance of sensing mana.¡±


    It¡¯s a great plan. I love it. But I think it could be even better.


    ¡°Will the inquisitors sense you if you flare mana all the way near the corrupted lands?¡±


    Edna deadpans at me.


    ¡°Right, you¡¯re an alien. If I flare my mana anywhere near the corrupted lands, inquisition will be a minor nuisance, assuming they bother to go there in search of mages. I explained to you that a whole army, led by a whole battalion of mages, fended off the last wormlord¡¯s attack. If I flare my mana anywhere near that place, the horrors which had survived those battles will flock towards us and tear us to pieces long before any inquisitor catches a whiff of our presence.¡±

 Chapter 26 - Minor Abominations

    Day 26, 1:05 PM


    We¡¯re six lessons in, and we¡¯re finally at the edge of civilization, such as it is, on the border of the corrupted lands.


    ¡°Remember, I can only use minor magic and those with mostly internal effects. I can heal you, I can enhance weapons, ignite small flames and such. Any larger show of magic would draw all nearby abominations towards us, and we would probably die. So, I¡¯m not doing it.¡±


    That¡¯s the third time she¡¯s saying the same thing.


    ¡°Yes, Edna, I know.¡± I look at my new staff, made of enhanced mantis shrimp chitin and cool rocks I found in the dungeon. ¡°Thanks for making it black, it feels just right.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I still think you should¡¯ve kept it multicolored. The pattern was mesmerizing, and it might have distracted your opponents.¡±


    She¡¯s got that right. It looked like a licorice stick candy made by someone overdosing on acid. The problem is, I would have had to look at it all the time, and whirling it around was a great way to induce seizures.


    ¡°So, how do we find a minor abomination?¡±


    ¡°Walking around this area? Starting a fire is a great way of attracting them, but there¡¯s no guarantee only one will show up if we did that. You could also try making loud noise, but again, there¡¯s no guarantee only one will come. Abominations, in general, are solitary creatures, devouring those intruding into their territories or getting devoured by those intruders. Usually, moving around loudly should do the trick.¡±


    Yeah, I was hoping for something more elegant than dressing myself in mustard and dancing around, but I already know what¡¯s my lot in life, and apparently playing bait is no small part of it.


    I look towards the mutated flora with as much reluctance as I can muster.


    ¡°Edna, if I don¡¯t make it back, tell Fred I never liked him. He¡¯s a real bastard.¡±


    Her lips twitch. I almost got a smirk. ¡°Get going, you said you could handle the fortieth floor without injury, that means you can handle a minor abomination or two. Off with you.¡±


    ¡°I said thirty-eighth floor,¡± I mutter with a frown and head towards a thornbush sprouting tentacle-like leaves and tulips with tongues for petals.


    I half-expected the slimy flowers would lick at my thigh as I pass them. Much to my relief, they don¡¯t. The leaves are static and other than sticking their tongues at me, the tulips are fine too.


    I hit the bush with my staff and instead of rustling it makes a noise similar to flesh slapping or possibly awkward clapping. The octopus applause stops, and nothing happens. The light wind is still blowing, my supernatural nose informing me of dozens of scents carried on the breeze. Including the smell of carrion.


    That seems equally unpleasant and promising. The abominations eat, they eat a lot, in fact, if Edna¡¯s stories are true, and the decomposing body I smell is either an old meal, or something they might still be enjoying. Per Edna¡¯s suggestion, I make sure to hit an occasional branch with my new staff.


    Is it fine to call you Batsy II?


    The staff is sturdier than my old weapon of choice, but bugs here seem tougher than armored soldiers, so the upgrade is warranted and not entirely vanity.


    I pass a trampled bush. Or to be more exact the shredded, dug up, bush-like thing with withered tentacles stabbed into the ground. The flora is so twisted and alien, even by Fyoor¡¯s standards. I can tell because I have no idea what the bush is, what it¡¯s good for, or whether it¡¯s good for anything.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The only thing I get from my skills is a warning to stay the hell away from unknown plants growing in the mutated forest. In fact, my skills are telling me to get the hell out of the said mutated forest. Good advice. Sadly, it¡¯s inapplicable.


    I turn around a tree, making sure not to touch its oozy bark, which looks more like sore skin, and see the biggest thing I¡¯ve ever seen. I call it a thing, despite it obviously being a flower, because calling it a flower insults half the flora I know and love.


    It¡¯s the shape of a giant rotting donut, smelling just as bad as it looks. Worse, even. It¡¯s the source of the carcass stench I caught, and that fact makes me slightly angry. Following Edna¡¯s advice, I hit it with Batsy II, and the donut farts.


    Yellow gas escapes the tear I made, sounding like someone beating half-dead bagpipes. The noise is quite loud. In my mind, it matches the definition of the forbidden loud noise Edna mentioned mere minutes ago. I retreat, and fortunately, there¡¯s no sign of Edna, she would¡¯ve probably nagged me to death before the abominations even got here.


    Then the ground ripples. A mole cricket over ten feet long, with two pairs of giant tusks protruding from its maw, erupts from underground, splashing earth. The abomination¡¯s forelimbs are giant serrated shovels, a cross between mole cricket¡¯s limbs and those of a praying mantis. But then I see the most important weapon the already insanely dangerous aberration has, a looming scorpion tail nearly as long as the body itself.


    It flickers the brushlike pectines hanging from its torso, and shifts to face me. The damn tremor-sense found me without error. Now the question is do I keep running to open the distance from the massive fart and risk getting stabbed in the back, or stand my ground, fight, and risk getting surrounded.


    Both options suck. I want to climb a tree and fight from there, but given the Everrain trees, especially these mutated things that are as likely to wink at me as they are to try to digest me, that seems like a horrible idea.


    I keep running, darting between hostile and mocking flora, using my one advantage against subterranean bug which sees through sensing vibrations - it has no eyes. The massive mole horror behind me crashes into a tree, and something hisses in pain as the creature uproots the whole plant and stumbles towards me.


    I cover three hundred yards, hopefully enough distance to escape any other abomination¡¯s notice, and turn around to face the mole cricket from hell. For all my maneuvering, and the cricket¡¯s stumbling and collisions with trees, I have to wait a mere half a dozen seconds before it¡¯s upon me.


    The tail sweeps towards me, stinger dripping neon-yellow poison, probably potent enough to melt my face if it slaps me. The sweep seems like it will come up short, but the mole cricket arches its back and the stinger is suddenly almost at my chest.


    With a loud crack, I bat away the tail, but the damn thing is flexible enough not to snap. Battlefield Mastery possibly kicks in, since my blow threw the mole cricket off balance. With a flick of my wrist, the staff¡¯s trajectory changes. It spins and twists through the air before the mole cricket recovers its balance and smashes into its head. The monster¡¯s carapace cracks and it hisses, confirming it wasn¡¯t the trees crying out when it collided with them.


    The carapace has cracked, but it¡¯s not broken, and the scythe-spade-leg slashes at me, followed by a swing of the wicked tail. I somersault back, smacking Batsy II at the bladed limb. I use the extra energy and push myself away, landing on my feet three yards from the abomination, with a tongue-tulip bush between us.


    The mole cricket plows through the bush, its stinger lunging towards me. The strike is short, but I know what¡¯s coming. The mole cricket arcs its back, and Batsy II smashes downward, striking the stinger and sending it down, straight for the mole cricket¡¯s head and its cracked carapace.


    The stinger pierces the already damaged armor, and the fluorescent poison does its job. I can¡¯t see the damage it deals from the exoskeleton, but the flesh smokes and gives off a putrid smell. The mole cricket curls up, dead before I finish the breath I was drawing.


    ¡°You can try to sense mana.¡± Edna emerges from behind a tree the moment the mole cricket dies, nearly giving me a heart attack. ¡°The poison is overflowing with it, and now¡¯s your best chance, while it¡¯s fresh.¡±


    ¡°Are there any other abominations heading this way?¡±


    ¡°No, but next time try not to disturb corpse lilies. They are toxic carnivorous plants we made to fight the aberrations.¡±


    I want to ask more questions, for starters whether the entire creepy forest was designed by the mages to counter the wormlord¡¯s abominations, but Edna points at the ground with a hard expression.


    ¡°Sit, make yourself comfortable, and try to sense mana oozing from the abomination¡¯s corpse. This one has a modest to moderate amount, and it will dissipate in an hour or so.¡±


    I sit down and close my eyes, giving it my all to sense a new form of energy and develop a new sense.

 Chapter 27 - New Sense

    Day 30, 10:35 AM


    Ultimately, I failed. Like many times in life, when things mattered the most, I didn¡¯t meet my own expectations.


    I pick Initial Mana Sense from my choice of available skills, and check my second level up condition. Fully comprehend a lesson given by your master.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Edna asks, following my despondent sigh.


    ¡°I leveled up, took Initial Mana Sense, and now I have to fully comprehend a lesson of yours to level up again. But before that, how do I go about sensing mana?¡±


    ¡°Well, you need to go and hunt down another abomination. Otherwise, there¡¯s no mana for you to sense, other than the ambient, which is flat, and I believe difficult to sense for someone inexperienced.¡±


    I sigh again. Hunting minor abominations has become a chore. Sure, the creatures are dangerous and aggressive, but they are dumb and predictable. I¡¯m certain even the weakest of my knights could have wiped the floor with them.


    ¡°Edna,¡± I ask. ¡°What are other tiers of abominations?¡±


    For the life of me, I can¡¯t say what made me ask such a question. When risking your life and limb, boredom is the greatest blessing, not something you seek to correct.


    ¡°Minor abominations, abominations, greater abominations, elder abominations, and finally wormlords.¡± Fortunately, she answers mechanically, oblivious of why I asked such a dumb question. ¡°Wormlords are immortal, while elder abominations are nearly unkillable. They are unstoppable engines of destruction, bent on devouring all life before them, seeking to evolve further.¡±


    I nod. ¡°How did you defeat the final wormlord, then? How did they come into being?¡±


    ¡°We never even saw the wormlord.¡± My skin crawls at Edna¡¯s confession. ¡°We were certain one was on the loose, since nothing else could coordinate so many abominations and drive them towards a singular purpose, but there were no confirmed sightings.¡±


    I gulp. This is a huge bit of information.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying there¡¯s a nearly omnipotent, unkillable abomination on the loose and that it can destroy the world whenever it feels like it? Why didn¡¯t it do it already?¡±


    Edna actually shrugs, stunning me. ¡°Its fellow monsters are long gone, its minions mostly exterminated¡ª¡±


    ¡°Edna, if that thing is really an immortal abomination, it¡¯s only a matter of time before it remembers that some two hundred-odd years ago it felt like destroying humanity and decides to give its hobby another go.¡±


    She gives me a disturbing grin, dripping with schadenfreude. ¡°And how¡¯s any of that my problem?¡±


    I blink. I do it again. Slower and more intentional this time.


    ¡°Edna,¡± I gather my wits, ¡°correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but you live on Everrain.¡±


    She nods, her grimace equally insane.


    ¡°You have no way of getting out of here?¡±


    ¡°No way.¡± She shakes her head, smile beaming.


    ¡°And you¡¯re one of those humans that would eventually get destroyed by the wormlord.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± She shakes her head again. ¡°Mages could have always fled the wormlords. We stayed and fought for the sake of the general population, of our children and students. Should the last wormlord return, I¡¯ll run and keep running. Wormlords are like all abominations, maybe slightly smarter. They want to feed, to grow, and to devour the competition. The best way to stay safe is not to compete. This was impossible for entire civilizations, with the clash of their and the wormlords¡¯ interests, but a lone mage is neither a threat nor worth overturning the entire world to find.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Things suddenly aren¡¯t making any sense. Is she demented? Bipolar? Does she suffer from multiple personalities? ¡°You said the Guide and the dungeons have trapped the wormlords a long time ago.¡±


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    ¡°Thirteen hundred years ago, give or take.¡±


    That really is ¡®a long time ago,¡¯ even by my standards. ¡°But the last wormlord appeared more than a thousand years later? Where was it? Did it escape the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°No wormlord has ever escaped its dungeon. Our guess is, was, that an elder abomination evolved, becoming a new wormlord.¡±


    I nod. That guess doesn¡¯t help one bit. It only opens another equally frightening can of worms from where I¡¯m standing. And this world¡¯s worms are frightening indeed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t see a problem with your approach?¡±


    ¡°I see what you¡¯re trying to say, but why would I care? These people doomed themselves.¡±


    I look her in the eye. ¡°Edna, listen, dying is merely another beginning, a start of an awful, eons-long journey. You want to stay alive in this comfortable home of yours, frying honeygrubs for as long as possible. Trust me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve slapped a death-god, so I should be fine.¡±


    A fair point. Few people probably earned my punishment, and all that have should remember it, otherwise the punishment itself makes no sense.


    I wish to argue, but there¡¯s no point. ¡°I¡¯ll go find another tentacle worm, or horned centipede with seven scorpion stingers or whatever.¡±


    A new skill is ready and waiting for me to test it out. The conversation so far was disturbing enough that another discussion on morality and analyzing Edna can wait until I get a hang of my skill. But there are questions I need to answer. I¡¯m not of this world, nor a member of this human-ish species, I don¡¯t plan on having children, nor letting anyone grow too close to me. Too much pain and centuries of suffering lay that way.


    But am I really fine condemning humanity? Gila and Lucy seemed nice. Edna¡¯s all right in her own demented way, and even Jarrol, the chatty inquisitor is kind of all right, for a man whose job entails burning innocent people because somebody told him to do it. Fred¡­ Fred is a dick, though.


    If I ignore him, I could find a group of people I like, maybe build a community if the doomsday scenario comes to pass. Yes, that seems like a decent idea. And until the day we all tremble and despair, I should try to level anarchist. But to do that, I need to integrate myself into the community, find an innocent person wrongfully accused by the authorities and sacrifice everything I have to save them.


    A horrible prospect. I have no idea who is behind BSD and the insane level up conditions it has cooked up. I rub my chin, missing my stubble, Batsy II is slung across my shoulder as I stalk towards the next abomination I have set my sights on.


    The creature is a moth-cricket-thing, its baleful dirge driving everything away from its territory as it munches on the mutated octopus trees and tulip-tongue bushes.


    I follow the maddening song, my extraordinary willpower the only thing keeping me sane and on track as the creature grates its wings together. Edna explained the damned thing¡¯s physiology after I killed one. The grating of the wings not only makes the ungodly noise but also spreads the hallucinogenic moth scale-dandruff-stuff all over the woods.


    I draw close, and the forest looks like it¡¯s covered in brown-gray snow. Each step disturbs a puff of tiny scales, which dance around my feet and rise into the air. I tie a cloth around my mouth and nose. My physique of twenty-five is enough to handle the drug, but it itches, probably because I have a super-sensitive nose.


    The haunting melody grows louder, and I peek out from a licky bush. Three dozen yards away, I see it. The cricket is ten feet long, its wings vibrate as they touch each other. The creature¡¯s maw is utterly bizarre, resembling rows of circular saw blades aligned in such a way as to mill whatever the moth-cricket is eating.


    Based on my experience of one, hypno-moth-crickets are troublesome creatures because they flee. If they spot you, they take off into the trees, and shake their wings at you until you drop intoxicated for them to eat. Or in my case, until I draw my trusty sling and pierce a hole through their tiny brain, after which they drop dead to the ground.


    The tactic serves me just fine this round as well. The moth-cricket flees, but stays close, greedy to devour me. The poor choice dooms it, and three minutes later I¡¯m sitting atop its corpse.


    ¡°Close your eyes. It¡¯s easier to sense mana that way.¡±


    I do as Edna says, no longer surprised she was right behind me even though I sensed nothing.


    I close my eyes, and in the darkness, the world swirls with color. A thin mist of green surrounds me, but beneath my feet a yellow geyser gushes out of the moth-cricket.


    I look down, and I can see the monster in all its glory. Unlike its real dull gray-browns, the mana suffusing it is golden. Its wings are brilliant, ablaze with mana, as are its creepy eyes and fluffy antenna.


    Its limbs and torso are the least magical.


    ¡°Edna, is it normal for mana to be out of balance in a body?¡±


    ¡°Naturally,¡± she replies, and I turn to face her.


    She¡¯s a rainbow of colors, swirling in a human-shaped nebula, constantly flowing, shifting and mixing. I watch as green heading down her neck dissolves into yellow and blue. The blue converges with a smidgeon of red above her left breast and flows downward as violet.


    She looks like a random explosion of color, yet none of them leave her body, they are trapped in the constant flow, without a whiff seeping away.


    I look at my own hand, and it¡¯s a greenish haze, slightly darker than the faint mist permeating the air, but unlike Edna, mana constantly evaporates from my body.


    I open my mouth, but there are too many questions to ask, too many things to process with a whole new sense at my disposal.


    ¡°Take your time, sensing mana for the first time is usually overwhelming.¡±


    I nod. I don¡¯t feel particularly overwhelmed by what I¡¯m seeing, but I agree that I should take things slowly.


    The yellow mana gushing from the moth-cricket has a mesmerizing quality, and I enjoy the play of colors as they slowly grow sharper.

 Chapter 28 - Mad Genius

    Day 30, 2:45 PM


    Mana is alive. I don¡¯t know where that intuitive knowledge comes from, but I can feel it. The way it dances, mana isn¡¯t leaves floating in a mighty river, it is an entity, a creature with its own will, or at least an instinctive knowledge of where to go.


    I stand above a gushing stream of golden-colored mana, yet I remain a hazy green silhouette, giving off the same mana as the forest, drawing it to make up for what I have lost. The yellow mana slips past me, like oil spilled into a river, flowing atop, yet not mixing with the rest even a little bit.


    There is an important truth hiding in plain sight. My keen mind pushes me towards it, yet I don¡¯t know what that truth is. I wish to speak, to ask Edna, but breaking this moment of realization, of heightened sensation might come at a cost. If I stop, I might never again enter this state of mind.


    So, I observe. The mist is not a mist, the golden torrent is not a torrent. It gushes up, yet avoids my body. It goes through my clothes, yet doesn¡¯t disturb them. How do I know it¡¯s not going through my body?


    My attention shifts up, above my head, and sure enough, a pocket of green vapor swirls like an islet surrounded by a furious, grand river of gold. I raise my arm, and another patch of green springs to life, I place my arms together, and the patch grows. I grab my sleeve and stretch it, but the yellow current passes through it.


    Yes, it passes through the clothes, not through me.


    That¡¯s important. I know it is. Because¡­ a blank. I feel like I¡¯m relying on raw power to plow through a field which requires finesse. I¡¯m pushing snow by going forward, but it¡¯s building up. It¡¯s possible to make progress, but the more I push, the greater the mound of unresolved questions tripping me up, the harder it is to make the next step because of all the deductions I should have made but didn¡¯t, instead relying on instinct and raw brainpower.


    I¡¯m missing something.


    Whatever it is, it¡¯s vital. Whatever it is, it requires knowledge I don¡¯t possess, nor know where to acquire it.


    The raging current of yellow mana dwindles, then subsides. My trance ends, and I focus once more on Edna. She is still an explosion of colors contained in human shape, among others, yellow splashes swirl in the multicolored mannequin.


    ¡°Edna, why do I only have green mana in me, while you have a bunch of other colors.¡±


    ¡°Green mana is that of life, the forest is also green because this whole area is saturated with life mana. The abomination you killed mainly relied on yellow mana. The mana of cowards, tricksters, and deceivers.¡±


    ¡°And why do you seemingly have all colors? Why does green break down into yellow and blue?¡±


    ¡°I have absorbed mana of all types and learned to mold it into whatever suits me. As for green mana, I¡¯m surprised you noticed it. Life mana is a mix of yellow and blue, of chaos and order, of cowardice and bravery.¡±


    Sounds like nonsense to me, but she seems to believe her own words.


    ¡°So, you can only heal with green mana?¡±


    ¡°No, not exactly.¡± There goes all her certainty, wiped away by a single simple question. ¡°You can heal with red mana too, or yellow, or blue. It¡¯s just that green is the most efficient. The body obeys it the most.¡±


    I consider the statement before asking the logical question.


    ¡°That means you can do anything with any kind of mana, but there exists a specific color with extra affinity for the task at hand?¡±


    I open my eyes and mana sense disappears, letting the world revert into normal, much duller colors. Edna is looking up, her lips moving slightly.


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    ¡°Basically, yes,¡± she says eventually.


    ¡°All right, what are the exceptions?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Never heard of one.¡±


    Then why didn¡¯t you just say ¡®yes¡¯? Are you being contrarian on purpose or¡ª


    I stop the useless line of thought. Bickering leads nowhere.


    ¡°All right.¡± I calm down and change the subject. ¡°I have another question, mana constantly evaporates from me, and I guess I draw it into myself passively.¡±


    She nods.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t the yellow mana enter my body? In fact, it seemed like it was struggling to avoid me.¡±


    ¡°You are still not drawing mana, the amount that enters and leaves your body is the same, and the density of mana inside your body is more or less the same as the surroundings you are in. It¡¯s a bit denser in the dungeon and in the corrupted lands, it¡¯s thinner in the castles¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why what?¡±


    ¡°Do you know why mana is thicker or thinner in places?¡±


    Edna looks at me as if I asked her why it was raining. ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s the way it always was. Mana around human settlements is sparser, while it¡¯s abundant in the wilds. I can tell you there¡¯s more of it in the dungeons because dungeons are a magical construct, and some of their magic seeps out. The deeper you go, the denser the mana.¡±


    A part, a small, meticulous part of me wants to shout at her. How could she not know? Why didn¡¯t she or her predecessors run experiments and try to figure out how magic worked? And yet, I have already lived a life, and I haven¡¯t done the rational thing of cataloging BSD classes, level up conditions, and optimal paths of advancement.


    So, I decide to be constructive. ¡°Edna, how much time are you willing to invest in me, and are you interested in uncovering the secrets of magic?¡±


    ¡°I have decades left, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. What¡¯s your plan?¡±


    A crazy idea strikes me.


    ¡°I just had the most brilliant flash of inspiration in the history of Everrain.¡± I pause, since that dramatic introduction needs buildup. ¡°What do you think about the following - I become a mage, like you, we map out the path, skills, everything we need to know, you teach me magic needed to shape and heal and everything you know, then you switch your class to something like a hunter.¡±


    She chokes, staring at me as if I¡¯m mad, but I continue with my spiel.


    ¡°Then, you once more become an apprentice mage, you lose your skills, including losing a tier of mnemonics. That would allow you to forget a bunch of things your brain doesn¡¯t need, and that would help extend your life, right? You won¡¯t go insane, you write down everything important, everything else you let disappear, and then your mind will have room for another century or two of memories¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡± She says, and while I can¡¯t argue against her statement, what I¡¯m saying is both perfectly logical and rational.


    ¡°And why is that?¡± I ask calmly.


    ¡°Because!¡± she stutters. ¡°You don¡¯t stop being a mage! Nobody stops being a mage!¡±


    ¡°And why is that? Do you lose the ability to use magic if you stop being a mage?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡± I place a finger on my lips. ¡°There are minor abominations prowling around, and you¡¯re shouting while sitting in a pile of crystal moth.¡±


    She covers her mouth, looking around, apparently so shocked she momentarily forgot where she was.


    Some mnemonics¡­ Blunt almost said it, but I caught it at the last moment.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t know, we¡¯ll find out. I¡¯ll become a mage, we level you up, then I drop the class and try to do magic. If it works, all is great and good, we can see what happens when I re-enter all the mage classes, and how skills behave. If it doesn¡¯t work, all is great and good, we can see what happens when I re-enter all the mage classes, and how skills behave, with the caveat that I can¡¯t use magic until I¡¯m a mage again. Big deal.¡±


    ¡°You are insane.¡± Her eyes are wide as she shakes her head, trying to chuck out the idea I¡¯ve planted in her brain.


    ¡°You already said that, and while technically true, there¡¯s nothing insane about my idea, and you know it. Had your people known about this, some of your ancestors would have used it to transcend life and death, and you would have thought it a common custom now.¡±


    I spread my arms, looking like the mad messiah that I am.


    ¡°If we time things right, we could have undying bodies, undecaying minds, and live as long as the world exists. All we have to do is redo our mage classes every couple hundred years to filter out irrelevant memories.¡±


    Why isn¡¯t Manny here? Why is my goddess cold and dead on Arborea while I¡¯m here, on an alien world, on the cusp of achieving immortality. Can magic bring her back? Can it somehow summon her into this world and grant her a young body?


    Then that disgusting, rational part of my mind speaks again. Even if it were possible, would she want something like that? Would she hate me? Would she consider her existence a curse?


    So many unknowns, but one step at a time, I¡¯ll figure things out.


    But, the voice of reason says, making me shudder, is there a difference between a life eternal and an endless redo loop?

 Chapter 29 - Heretical Ideas

    Day 30, 8:20 PM


    Rain drums and rustles against the forest canopy so dense it might as well be a roof. I¡¯m terrified and excited by my idea. If I live long enough, I¡¯m certain I¡¯ll advance anarchist, even though the conditions get more and more absurd with each passing level.


    I don¡¯t delude myself that I¡¯ll amass enough power to become truly immortal; worse, I might achieve it and grow bored of life. No, what I need to do is learn how BSD works, how to do things even if I am reborn as a chimp, or some kind of caveman with zero technology and infrastructure. What I need is to amass knowledge and understanding.


    Edna trembles at my speech, terrified by my offer, but I know she is considering it, and with every passing moment, she knows it¡¯s the right thing to do. We can game the system. Master and apprentice, apprentice and master, an endless loop in which we exchange our roles every now and then.


    ¡°That sounds wrong.¡± She finally finds her words, but they are of the dumbest kind.


    ¡°Edna, there is no right or wrong, there is no good and evil outside your own perception. What I¡¯m thinking and offering is the following - we map all the classes we can, map level up conditions, then pick our way through them and reach the highest levels we can. Each attribute point is a cumulative ten percent improvement, we shuffle twenty-thirty classes, stack the deck in our favor and with four-five levels in each of them, we should in theory grow strong to oppose the inquisition and complete dungeons¡ª¡±


    Edna bursts into laughter.


    ¡°Oh, you silly, ignorant child.¡± She wipes a tear. ¡°What good will more attribute points and mundane skills do against the wormlords? Do you understand that the path to becoming an archmage is severed? The power they wielded makes regular mages seem like children, but even they failed to annihilate the wormlords, despite outnumbering them five to one. They couldn¡¯t even kill one in a coordinated assault. Despite having its body obliterated, the wormlord reformed in a matter of days.¡±


    Edna shakes her head.


    ¡°All of this was documented, but I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happened with the records. The knowledge and wisdom of generations in the hands of those delusional troglodytes.¡±


    ¡°What are the odds those books survived?¡±


    ¡°Slim.¡± Just voicing the admission seems to cause Edna physical pain. ¡°There were book-burnings. Apprentices, or so-called witches as the church labeled them, were tied with piles of books beneath their feet and burned alive.¡±


    Yeah, there¡¯s no right way to continue this conversation. Saying ¡®been there, done that¡¯ is bound to get me slapped or something, Edna would resent me at the very least, since it¡¯s obvious her friends and family died in those fires.


    ¡°We can assume no books then, which means we need to document useful knowledge, or at least the knowledge we will need to preserve between memory wipes.¡± The words are alienating her. Her bearing changes, her torso shifts to the side, an instinctive reaction to run away from me. I pressed too hard, too fast.


    ¡°Just consider it later, maybe when we¡¯re back at your home and sharing tea.¡± Her shoulders relax.


    Yeah, definitely shouldn¡¯t have pressed that hard.


    So, I continue in the same vein. ¡°I¡¯ve learned how to use mana sense, so if there¡¯s nothing else keeping us here, I would much prefer drinking tea and sharing honeygrubs than hunting crystal-moth abominations.¡±


    Edna considers my words and nods. ¡°There¡¯s little to gain here. Drawing and manipulating mana is slightly easier here than in my home, but the difference is negligible.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what the second level options are for apprentice mages?¡±


    ¡°Increased Mana Capacity skill and Initial Draw Mana, you obviously need to pick the latter.¡± Edna puffs up her chest, obviously asking a question on a subject she¡¯s familiar with improved her morale immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I know all skills available for apprentice mages, all the way until level eight, which was the highest recorded level in the books I read.¡±


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    That¡¯s sixteen skills. Given Edna¡¯s abilities and skills, it¡¯s shameful to claim she memorized a list of sixteen items, especially when I¡¯m trying to commit to memory every detail of my life, only letting go of the trivial nonsense two weeks later.


    A single class¡¯s skills are a breeze for the both of us, no matter how formal and detailed you¡¯re going to be¡ª?


    ¡°Edna, could you prepare the skills and an introduction to them as a lesson? So that I can fully comprehend them.¡±


    She stares at me for a moment, then her eyes go wide as she realizes what I want to do.


    If it¡¯s stupid and simple, there¡¯s no reason not to abuse easy, formal lessons to increase my class level. Plus, maybe I should straight up redo apprentice mage as soon as I¡¯m done with the class. Maybe I should repeat it several times until I can polish the skills as much as humanly possible.


    For instance, if I can get a hang of sensing mana without the skill, I will unlock the skill by default, and I can check what Initial Arcane Lore brings to the table. The same with drawing mana. If I can do it without skills, then having an increased mana capacity is a no-brainer.


    ¡°Hey, Edna, how much would you hate me if I became your apprentice once or twice more? Switching back and forth to something like the basic hunter class?¡± She glares at me, and I flash her a winning smile. ¡°Maybe five times.¡±


    I can tell she¡¯s really annoyed, and it¡¯s perfectly reasonable for her to feel that way. I¡¯m toying with what she believes is her life and sanity. What would she say if I told her I still want to pull Lucy and Gila into this?


    The former was a hardworking, dedicated woman, the latter a leveling savant, who only wants a respectable job and enough funds to live a comfortable life.


    ¡°You¡¯re plotting something,¡± Edna says, and I force my smile into an even wider grin.


    ¡°I am, and it¡¯s to your benefit, even if you don¡¯t like it.¡±


    She¡¯s about to protest, but there¡¯s no need. ¡°I won¡¯t do anything without consulting you.¡±


    She¡¯s about to argue again, but I keep talking.


    ¡°And if during my consultation you reject my proposal, I won¡¯t do anything on my own.¡± Edna nearly sighs with relief, unfortunately for her, I¡¯m not done yet. ¡°But I¡¯ll keep pestering you and explaining the obvious advantages of doing things my way until you yield.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going home.¡± Edna turns around, marching towards Tallrock.


    ¡°Wait, I¡¯m serious! I really want to restart apprentice mage when I reach a high enough level to understand how its skills work.¡±


    I follow behind her, thinking how I, no, we, really need to explore BSD as much as possible. In fact, I should¡¯ve done that ages ago on my own, but a stable life with a woman I love, a family, and a kingdom to rule gave no leeway to experiment with classes and skills. Meanwhile, a brief trip to the dungeon served as an excellent example.


    My second attempt at being a weapon master was much smoother and yielded much better results than the first one.


    I could always kill myself and redo.


    My throat clenches at the thought. Madness lies there. The world becoming a game, humans becoming pieces to position just right. Soon, it would reach the point where I¡¯m not redoing to perfect my class choices and skills, but to brew a better cup of tea, to learn how to fry perfect honeygrubs on my first attempt, and nonsense like that.


    I know myself, and I know I¡¯m my greatest enemy. My rotten mind gets mired up, twisted in its own thoughts and visions of what reality should be. I guess that¡¯s how I became an anarchist.


    My mind wanders, my body following Edna until she calls for a break. She didn¡¯t walk far, just enough to open up a safe distance from the moth-cricket¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°We¡¯ll rest here for tonight. I¡¯ll prepare a lecture on apprentice mage class and the skills it grants, not just the skill choices for each level, but also what I know about those skills, as well as how attribute points impact your future growth.¡±


    She flicks her wrist and dry leaves, twigs, and branches gather into a small pile, then with a snap of her fingers, the heap of combustibles starts crackling with fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m adding the talk about attribute points because I don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough material for a lesson without them. Yes, what is it?¡± She says slightly annoyed at my raised hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you, but why did you start making fire with firewood these last couple days, but you used to fuel it with magic at your home?¡±


    ¡°Magical fire means no ash, but those with mana sense, like inquisitors and abominations can sense the mana disturbance from further away. We¡¯re talking about ten yards versus two hundred yards, so the difference is negligible, unless someone or something is on the prowl in the area.¡±


    She plucks a long, smooth thorn off a bush and skewers three pieces of meat from her food sack.


    ¡°Sit, eat, rest; tomorrow, we¡¯ll have the lesson in the morning, before the downpour lets up.¡±

 Chapter 30 - Apprentice Mage Breakdown

    Day 31, 4:20 AM


    ¡°Ready for your lesson?¡± Edna asks while the rain still assaults the canopy above us. Whoever designed this crazy ecosystem needs a five star review, would let them design a world again.


    ¡°Sure am,¡± I say without skipping a beat. I¡¯ve been hovering at the border of sleep, waiting for her to catalog her thoughts.


    ¡°All right.¡± She tries not to sound surprised by me being already awake and starts her lesson as I move to kneel before her. ¡°Apprentice mage has eight known levels, with fourteen known skills. At first level you get a choice between Initial Arcane Lore and Initial Mana Sense. The former lets you understand some basic concepts about magic and learn the complex ones more easily. The latter lets you sense mana. I know of no cases where an apprentice mage willingly took the former over the latter, since learning to sense mana on your own is a tedious, years-long process which our distant ancestors had to learn.¡±


    I make a mental note to ask Edna about those ancestors, but don¡¯t interrupt her carefully prepared speech.


    ¡°When you reach level two, you will get to choose between Increased Mana Capacity and Initial Draw Mana. Just about everyone chooses to learn to draw mana, but there were people who decided to experiment. They ultimately failed to become mages, but they have documented their experiences as well as warnings against taking the skill. Apparently, Increased Mana Capacity allows more mana into your body, this was confirmed through mana sensing skills, but without the ability to draw more mana into your body, your ability to cast spells becomes extremely limited, and getting past the journeyman mage class is believed to be impossible.¡±


    All right, I can see why that would be the case. Having a bigger tank you can¡¯t refuel when you like sounds like a crippling flaw.


    ¡°Level three offers a pair of underwhelming skills, Initial Arithmetics and Initial Calligraphy. You mentioned that you have both, so there¡¯s no reason to explain what they do, but I do need to tell you why they are useful to mages. Arithmetics are a vital part of spellcasting, once you gain the ability to manipulate external mana through the use of the one you internalized, you will understand how mind-bogglingly complex the task is. You will need to take into account the flow of mana, the density, what your opponents or allies are going to draw and how that will affect the atmosphere.¡±


    Edna stops herself from talking more, probably for the sake of my level up condition. ¡°All these are things you cannot truly learn through theory, only practice and spellcasting. As for calligraphy, its use is mostly found in artificing. Simple magical equipment, like your staff, doesn¡¯t require runes, but items which can mimic or even use spells require complex inscriptions to channel mana, as well as a skilled user to control the process.¡±


    Edna lifts her index finger, pointing at the sky. ¡°Even if you have a hoard of magical contraptions, wands, disks, and such, you need to be at least a journeyman mage to use them because they require fine manipulation of mana. An important thing to note is that both skills can be acquired through diligent study and if you have them already, the level up will offer to increase their tier.¡±


    That sounds promising and confirms my theory. If a skill is tiered, classes offering it will offer a tier increase. That means I need to find a class which offers a guaranteed staffmanship skill increase.


    ¡°The fourth level offers two very interesting skills; Initial Mana Control is the norm and what most people choose, but the alternative isn¡¯t crippling. Initial Mana Overflow is the complete opposite of its counterpart. It forfeits control in exchange for power. Grabbing at least one level is handy for some, but most people who took it did so as journeyman mages.¡±


    Edna scans me as if expecting I will join the camp of those some.


    ¡°Initial Mana Overflow uses any excess mana you channel while casting into making your spells more potent, in some way. Unfortunately, without control, you have no say in how the spell is improved. Your fireball may grow bigger, hotter, travel faster, but you don¡¯t get to choose. Initial Mana Control curbs that defect if you have it, so people usually opt to choose it first. Healers, like me, prefer to increase its tier instead of supercharging our spells. For one, in healing more control already supercharges the spell, for another, healers rarely have mana to waste when they are needed.¡±


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    So, to do things properly, I need both, and I should try to increase their tier as much as possible. Maybe as I loop through the mage classes, I¡¯ll get a hang of it enough to acquire the skills on my own.


    ¡°Level five is where most apprentice mages exit the class, since it has the final skill they need to become mages and effectively cast spells, Initial Awakened Consciousness. The skill allows magic, something entirely alien and inconvincible to the human mind to become natural. Initial Parallel Thinking, on the other hand, is a complete trap.¡±


    Edna crosses her arms, and I barely stop myself from making a fishy comment.


    ¡°The most ancient texts claim that by taking this skill in conjunction with a few others, the most powerful archmages have acquired a skill called Dual Casting. It allowed them to cast two spells at once. The records are around two thousand years old, and I, as a mage, can¡¯t even begin to comprehend how the mind, hands, and mouth is supposed to function in that scenario.¡±


    That¡¯s a fair point, Edna has to wave her hands and sing a melody when using more complex spells, but even for the simpler ones, either the song or the hand gestures are still present. Maybe if there are skills which reduce the need for them, or something?


    ¡°The sixth level is a bit quirky, and it¡¯s also the main reason most apprentice mages only strive for five levels. It¡¯s very difficult to reach the seventh level, and the skills the sixth grants are underwhelming. You get a choice between Improved Distance Estimation and Improved Weight Estimation. Both are kind of useful when learning and practicing new spells, but that¡¯s about it. One turns you into a human ruler, the other into a human scale.¡±


    She shrugs, and I kind of agree. I was a human ruler, and it wasn¡¯t a fun job.


    ¡°Level seven is another disappointment. You get another take at the skills you didn¡¯t take at levels one and three. Meaning you pick between arcane lore, calligraphy, and arithmetics. If it wasn¡¯t for level eight, all you got from climbing this high is two random skills and two attribute points. But, level eight more than compensates for the wasted time, if you manage to reach it.¡±


    The way Edna is speaking, I¡¯m expecting to hear a drum roll, maybe a thunder in the distance. I prick my ears up, and Edna pauses, but the heavens don¡¯t appreciate the dramatic moment.


    ¡°Finally, level eight is the highest recorded one, and it gives a choice between two equally excellent skills, Initial Mana Affinity and Initial Mana Ambivalence. The names don¡¯t mean much, the descriptions are even worse, the first one reinforces your mana affinity, the second one erases it. What they do is, they either make your area of expertise even more powerful, at the cost of decreasing your proficiency with all other fields of magic, or they entirely wipe away your innate preference and make all magic available and equally easy to use.¡±


    Edna eyes me, probably wondering if I have any questions, but I have already mastered the art of biting my tongue while she¡¯s teaching, so she continues uninterrupted.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you which of these is better, but I can tell you that I would choose to reinforce my specialty, which is life magic. I would probably completely lose the ability to use red mana, but I could live without elemental spells.¡±


    Apparently, opposite, or at least conflicting, types of mana exist, and I note the thought, adding another question to those I plan on asking after the lesson.


    Edna proceeds to explain how different attributes influence magic. I¡¯m surprised and amused to learn that what I have chalked off as social attributes influence magic targeting the mind.


    She wraps up the lesson and I ask my questions. As expected, she has no information about the geniuses who blazed their own path, learning how to sense mana and cast spells in an era before written history.


    As for different types of mana, they are aligned by color. Black, brown, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, and white.


    Black is associated with objects, brown with death and burial, red with the elemental forces, orange with the stars, yellow with chaos and cowardice, green with life, blue with order and bravery, indigo is related to space, while violet relates to time, and finally, white is associated with fate.


    I consider the way this world¡¯s mages split magic, and it feels like drunks playing horseshoes in a carpenter¡¯s backyard full of stakes. The division is utterly random, obviously wrong, but that doesn¡¯t matter.


    I have fully comprehended the lesson and a level up notification confirms my suspicion that BSD cares little about me learning the hidden cosmic truths, and instead focuses on the drivel Edna is teaching.

 Chapter 31 - The First Obstacle

    Day 31, 5:00 AM


    The choice between Advanced Arithmetics and Expert Calligraphy takes some thought. On one hand, there¡¯s balance, on the other, a higher tier skill always trumps a lower tier one. Plus, Edna mentioned some mages made do without picking up arithmetics at all, so initial tier skill should be enough. Besides, it¡¯s just arithmetics, how hard can it be to level?


    With those considerations, I pick Expert Calligraphy, then check my new level up condition, six attribute points staring at me, waiting for me to spend them.


    I read the level up condition again, just to make sure I¡¯m not getting something wrong, before smiling.


    ¡°I have to perform ten tasks issued to me by my master. Edna, do you mind officially issuing ten ridiculously simple tasks, like picking up a leaf, taking a step, and such?¡±


    She stares at me blankly. ¡°There¡¯s no way that will work.¡±


    The wording says it should.


    ¡°Humor me.¡±


    Edna starts bossing me around. I pick up three twigs and seven leaves, and I get a level up notice. Just like my wise master had explained, my choices are Initial Mana Control and Initial Mana Overflow. I make the conservative choice, with the idea of trying to master it on my own the next time I enter the class.


    I purse my lips as I read the next level up condition.


    ¡°Edna, this one is tougher, ask your master to explain an arcane topic you do not understand until you comprehend it. I don¡¯t think it can be anything new, but something you already taught, but I failed to understand.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you really got a level from picking up sticks!¡±


    I put my finger on my lips. ¡°Edna, the area is still crawling with abominations.¡±


    ¡°Did you really level up?¡± she whispers.


    I nod, and she grabs the tree, a hollow look in her eyes.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± she mutters. ¡°I took months to advance from level three to level four. I know, knew, people who took years, some never even made it.¡±


    She¡¯s at a loss for words. ¡°All they needed to do was pick up ten sticks. That¡¯s impossible. I refuse to believe it.¡±


    I¡¯m strongly tempted to wave the leaves and twigs in her face with an air of superiority, but I¡¯m a graceful system exploiter.


    ¡°Anyway, back to the next level up condition, the easiest way I can think of is either giving a horrible lecture, so that I can¡¯t understand it, or doing it with a lot of technical terms I don¡¯t know. Then, I ask you to redo the lesson properly. Hopefully, I get a level out of it.¡±


    ¡°Can you use your mana control now?¡± Her mind hasn¡¯t caught up. She still doesn¡¯t believe I leveled by picking up a handful of foliage. I see no reason not to, and while I am excited to level up again, the thought of trying to do magic is just as appealing.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I sit, leaning my back against the most nonthreatening tree around, and close my eyes.


    Green mana is everywhere, not in visible motes like when Edna reshaped my body or made my weapons, but as an ever-present fine mist or infinitely small snowflakes shifting in a nonexistent wind.


    Following an instinct I never had, but BSD implanted in my brain, I inhale. My body relaxes and the flow of mana around me changes. I don¡¯t know exactly what happened, but I¡¯m like a drain of a full tub. One moment the plug was there and the water stood still, the next the plug disappeared and mana started swirling around me, making a localized whirlpool.


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    Whatever happened, I need to understand it, to know what my body is doing, why, and how. Only then will I be able to replicate the feat myself. Now, how do I manipulate mana?


    ¡°Edna, how do I manipulate mana?¡±


    ¡°You can do something simple first, stop gathering it and just expel some from your body.¡±


    Yeah, that¡¯s not exactly helpful. As if just thinking¡ª


    It worked. Merely thinking that I don¡¯t want to gather mana anymore and that I want it gone from my system, expelled a green cloud from my body. Edna gasps, but I¡¯m too busy feeling lightheaded.


    ¡°I told you to expel some mana, not all of it.¡±


    My head throbs, then something inside me does the same pop the ears do from sudden pressure changes. My vision clears, and I thought I was done, but then the ambient mana gushes into me even faster than when I was drawing it, and my vertigo intensifies.


    ¡°Just sit there and do nothing.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± My stomach is complaining a bit, and I guess men with weaker physique would be puking their guts out, while my flash of headache would have become a full-blown migraine.


    ¡°Mana exhaustion, the symptoms are usually much worse than yours, so you probably only suffered a minor case. Makes sense, since you hardly have a mana pool. Just stay there, and don¡¯t get up until I tell you.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have said that in a more incomprehensible way and then clarified it?¡± She frowns, still not getting it. ¡°I¡¯m dizzy. You could have thrown some fancy vocabulary, then explained the problem in simple terms. I could have gotten a level out of it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going home.¡± Edna rolls her eyes, then continues in a grumble. ¡°If my level up condition is to pick up twenty twigs someone points out for me, I¡¯m going to be really angry.¡±


    Now that was an understatement if I ever heard one.


    A day passes and Edna holds a lecture on mana transformations. I can¡¯t make heads or tails of what she¡¯s saying at first, like she¡¯s speaking in a foreign language, but after I ask her to clarify, the subject comes out as quite a simple thing, actually. The amount of mana on Everrain is finite, it constantly flows and transforms, but the sum of it always stays the same. In her example, every mote of blue and yellow that merge into a green mote result in a nearby mote of green decomposing into blue and yellow.


    It¡¯s an interesting theory, which provides me with two benefits. The first is the realization that lessons don¡¯t need to be lengthy at all. The original lasted half an hour, but the useful version took mere five minutes. I¡¯m guessing that as long as it delivers the point, a single sentence can be a lesson.


    The second, more important benefit, is the level up pop-up. I pick Initial Awakened Consciousness, and my poor brain melts. The sound of drizzle striking the leathery leaves high above my head tastes green and red, while life and water mana smell of honey and crackling ozone. And that¡¯s just the sensations coming from my ears.


    My eyes tell me the dark forest throbs with life, like a slow, powerful heart fueling the planet. The pressure squeezes my brain, a distorted rainbow shimmers in my nose, then everything goes black.


    ¡°I had to knock you out,¡± the rainbow voice says, licking at my brain. ¡°Your senses appear to be too sharp, and awakening your consciousness overloaded your brain.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still happening,¡± I croak in green and yellow, not bothering to open my eyes. ¡°Your voice tastes fuzzy.¡±


    ¡°You can hear me and speak, you¡¯re doing fine, trust me,¡± the multi-colored blob I smell with my ears says. ¡°You suddenly blanked out, I was talking to you, then tried shaking, but you were paralyzed. Just drooling and gazing into space.¡±


    Sounds about right.


    ¡°How do others react to getting Initial Awakened Consciousness? Why didn¡¯t you warn me?¡± I¡¯m not really angry, nor am I accusing Edna, I¡¯m simply curious. It seems like a decent thing to do, warning a person they are about to tilt their brain and go catatonic.


    ¡°Because the symptoms aren¡¯t supposed to be that severe. At worst, you should have suffered from disorientation, nausea, confusion, trouble with speech and balance for the first day or so.¡±


    Those still sound kind of important. The kind of thing you should warn people about. Hey, Joe, you¡¯re gonna fall down each time you take a step in the next twenty-four hours. Seems like basic human decency to warn Joe.


    ¡°Can you see your next level up condition?¡± Edna asks, and I can¡¯t believe I haven¡¯t done it earlier.


    I blame it on the green, coppery-smell pudding I¡¯m hearing all around me.


    BSD appears without the slightest distortion, overriding my tormented senses, and for once I¡¯m sad it¡¯s not covering an even greater part of my consciousness.


    Eight available attribute points are a welcome sight, but the level up condition is depressing.


    ¡°I have to attend a total of three hundred hours of lessons held by my master. We¡¯ll need ten hours a day for a month before we¡¯re done with this one.¡±


    The grape-taste of whine in my voice apparently infuriates Edna. ¡°How dare you complain about one measly month! I took two years without advancing before I gave up on reaching level six. Had I known the condition, I would¡¯ve endured another month or two!¡±


    Edna¡¯s voice is red, probably full of elemental energy, based on how my brain is working right now. I can¡¯t blame her for being livid, but I can offer to help.


    ¡°Listen, take all this as a trial run. Once you become my apprentice, we¡¯re gonna push you all the way to the ninth level.¡±


    I can¡¯t see her face, but the red turns brown to my altered state of being, probably indicating she¡¯s mortified.

 Chapter 32 - The Choice

    Day 33, 4:20 PM


    I spent a full day and a half getting used to the sensory storm before Edna finally headed home to prepare the things we will need for our marathon of lessons. My job, as her apprentice, and definitely not a hunter, we have strongly, very explicitly stipulated that, is to hunt a month¡¯s worth of food. She will freeze some, and we prepare the rest through cooking lessons, since BSD didn¡¯t specify that I needed to take magic lessons from my master. Edna doubts I can cheat like that, I¡¯m certain I can, but we¡¯ll see.


    As for food, centipedes are Edna¡¯s favorite, while I personally prefer the land lobsters. The centipedes are fine too, but whatever makes them turn rubbery seems like some sort of defensive mechanism, which probably translates to poison. And I¡¯m not a big fan of poisoning myself, despite Initial Poison Tolerance to soften the blow.


    Since it¡¯s too late in the afternoon, and the night is about to start, I decide to hunt tomorrow. The official, and perfectly valid reason is that the centipedes would turn to waste during the night, but there¡¯s also a small portion of curiosity there as well. I wish to explore mana sensing, drawing, and manipulation with my altered mind.


    The first thing I notice is that the green mist of mana is no longer that, or to be more precise it simultaneously is and it isn¡¯t, the sensation is nearly impossible to put into words. What surrounds me isn¡¯t green mist, but life in gaseous form.


    It smells of blood, flowers, cut grass, dung, I even catch her scent, and my mind reels. The gaseous life holds infinite potential. It¡¯s nothing, mere steam coming off from the primordial soup, and yet, it can become anything if the one using it possesses sufficient skill.


    I salivate at the most perfect solsus ribs caressing my tongue, but my throat clenches at the promises of bitter poisons. Synesthesia is and will remain a problem until mana sense hits the advanced tier. Edna warned me about that, but like many of her warnings, it came after the fact, and more as an explanation on why I¡¯m smelling colors than a warning.


    There is a positive to it, though. If I learn to split and properly segregate my senses, I should advance mana sense all on my own.


    I spend the night licking colors with my ears with a single interruption. Dinner ambushed me, and after killing it, I cut choice pieces of the giant jungle lobster.


    The rest of the return trip takes three days, with several hours wasted on the last day hunting two centipedes and another lobster.


    Edna¡¯s home comes into view, rain soaking her garden. A portion of the fence is gone, nothing but charred stumps left. The smell is faint, washed out by the night¡¯s deluge, but my keen nose catches it. A mix of roasted pork and beef, but there¡¯s neither beef nor pork in this world, meaning I¡¯m smelling humans.


    I duck, taking cover behind the shrubs, and drop the bugs I¡¯ve hunted for provisions. Unburdened, I advance towards the hut. The garden is trampled, the most valuable plants plucked. I find three charred spots where the smell of roast is stronger. I already know what¡¯s happened, but I look inside.


    The tiny house is overturned, but there are no signs of combat. The inquisitors jumped Edna before she got in.


    ¡°Well, shit.¡± A rare curse escapes my lips.


    Now what? Faced with the loss of my master, I have several options. I could go after the inquisitors, guns blazing, but they might have burned her already. I could walk away, my apprentice mage level is already high enough for me to try casting a primitive spell and becoming a journeyman mage all by myself.


    Losing Edna is regrettable, but ultimately, the loss is one I can recover from. I could take Lucy with me, teach her magic, and we could do the immortality thing together. But I don¡¯t think I can do that to Edna. She was supportive, if somewhat deranged, hadn¡¯t shown an inkling of possible betrayal, and I owe her one. Besides, I¡¯m not the sanest cookie in the jungle.


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    So, that leaves me with the final option. If Edna is dead, I can redo. My heart drums in my chest, and my knees feel weak.


    I¡¯m already starting to think of that curse as a normal option in life. Even after everything Manny has suffered to make me see the truth of it.


    My lungs hurt as I force my breathing to slow. There will be no redos, other than to save lives I can¡¯t save otherwise. And while it pains me to admit it, Edna has earned the right for me to die for her at least once.


    Besides, she knows all the spells. Even if I pick up Lucy, we would have to explore and invent spells from scratch.


    I search for something useful inside the hut and find nothing. Then I dump the useless off-balance ax, and follow the muddy tracks. Fortunately, the inquisitors didn¡¯t seem to care about anyone following them. A huge mistake.


    I follow the tracks until the deluge and the better part of the next day, before reaching a clearing.


    Before me, a massive rock column, several miles wide, rises up from the ground. Wide stairs are chiseled into the cliff, leading to a massive fortress. Dozens of small waterfalls rain down from the fortress into an artificial moat surrounding the rock.


    It doesn¡¯t take a genius to see why they named it Tallrock, and the name is suitable. The rock plateau plus the fortress walls reach around one hundred and fifty feet in height, and I can see why the townsfolk are so assured of their safety.


    I squint towards the gate. The guards manning it aren¡¯t inquisitors. Instead, they appear to be regular folk, wearing chain armor and leaning against the wall. Their bored faces reveal that there are no superiors anywhere in the vicinity.


    Since that¡¯s the case, and there¡¯s nobody to identify me as an apprentice mage, I head up. The guards frown as I pass, trying to remember whether they know me.


    I give them a friendly smile, noting the wax covering their mail to keep it from rusting. ¡°I¡¯m a passing delver from Grayrock, went to the dungeon with Fred, Lucy, and Gila Rivens a couple of weeks ago.¡±


    I expected a nod or something, but my words seemed to completely wipe their interest in me, and I simply pass the gate without hindrance. The town before me isn¡¯t what I expected. I¡¯m not sure what I expected. Perhaps something akin to medieval Europe, or perhaps an Arborean town with thatched roofs, covering huts similar to the one Edna lived in.


    It¡¯s neither. The town before me is made of solid rock, the very rock it stands on. The houses are of uniform size, square, gray, with slanted roofs made of stone tiles. Everything is drab, old, and gray. Tallrock screams fantasy communism.


    The only thing that I can say is a marvel, are the rain gutters. Rain only falls in the central portion of the street. The exposed part is only two feet wide, but even there, the street is sloped, leading into some sort of sewer I would call primitive, but given the evidence around me, Everrainians take their water seriously. For all I know, the system might be more advanced than anything we had back on Earth.


    I step out of the rain and walk beneath the eaves. It¡¯s around noon, and with no specific clue in mind, I follow Lucy¡¯s instructions and head for her home. After taking the third turn, I understand why she hates and wants to leave, I also understand Gila, who wants to shut herself in her store, surround herself with bright dresses, and never leave her studio.


    The one I don¡¯t understand is Fred. Why the hell would anyone want to make patrolling this maze a career? The only thing I can see it¡¯s good for is fighting dementia. To make things worse, there are no house numbers or street names. I can imagine how many times someone knocked on the wrong door, or worse, just walked inside, if it was unlocked.


    I finally reach the right place, or at least I hope I¡¯m at the right place. The door has a plaque with Riven written on it, just as Lucy said, but there were half a dozen Rivens I passed on my way here, so it doesn¡¯t mean anything yet.


    I knock on wood and wait.


    ¡°Yes?¡± A woman in her forties opens the door.


    ¡°Good day, Madam,¡± I beam a winning smile. ¡°I¡¯m Griff, I can see where Lucy got her good looks from.¡±


    Lucy¡¯s mother blushes and lowers her gaze. She¡¯s either very shy for a woman in her forties, or extremely unused to compliments.


    ¡°You¡¯re the mysterious chivalrous young man Lucy mentioned? Thank you for helping the kids out, we all appreciate it. They snuck out saying they were going to gather herbs in the forest, then went into the dungeon. Ed, Fred¡¯s dad, beat him black and blue for running away and for delving so deep into the dungeon without proper supervision.¡±


    Lucy¡¯s mother is apparently fascinated by my shoes. They are good shoes, so I ignore her stare, and go on with the program.


    ¡°I only helped them a bit. They, Lucy and her friends, I mean, did most of the work on their own. Is she home? I promised I¡¯d drop by when I come to town.¡±

 Chapter 33 - Meet the Rivens

    Day 38, 4:20 PM


    Apparently, Fred tried to blame me into talking him and his cousins into going to the dungeon, the little shit. Fortunately, Gila, Lucy, and Martin, who was supposed to be the fourth member of the team, outed him. Gila even said I saved him from the orb-weaver, so, fortunately, the older generation is well disposed towards me, Fred¡¯s dad included.


    I¡¯m still amazed by the name; Ed, dad of Fred, sounds like something straight out of folk songs and tongue-twisters. Della, Lucy¡¯s mom, bustles about, providing me with snacks, tea, and company while I wait for her daughter. She calls me a strapping young man way too many times, her face marbled in red, her bosom pushed up, but I play oblivious and wait. She¡¯s a fine woman, but I spent a lifetime surrounded by finer women. None of which drew my eyes from my beloved.


    ¡°Mom! I¡¯m home!¡± Lucy breaks the awkward atmosphere and chokes when she sees me sitting in a wooden chair, munching on honeygrubs unfit to carry Edna¡¯s cooking¡¯s shoes.


    Lucy¡¯s face is priceless, but I wonder what¡¯s passing through her head. Here I am, the man who promised to take her away, sitting in her home¡¯s common room. The indoor purple drapes cover the wall behind me like a backdrop for a painting, the rickety stool makes a squeak as I turn to face her.


    ¡°Hey, Lucy, long time no see!¡± The chair scrapes against the stone floor as I stand, saved from the mediocre, overly oily sweets. If Edna survives, I need to compliment her honeygrubs.


    ¡°Griff!¡± I can see the terror in her face as she mentally checks whether she¡¯s wearing anything too dirty or embarrassing in any other way. Like she can be any worse than the state we were in before leaving the dungeon.


    I expected her to say something else, but apparently that was it.


    ¡°I was passing through the town and thought I could use a guide, and there¡¯s your wish we need to discuss.¡±


    ¡°What wish?¡± Panic tinges Della¡¯s voice. ¡°You¡¯re not going back to the dungeon again, are you? Ed already explained how under-leveled and under-equipped you guys were. You would¡¯ve died if not for Griff.¡±


    ¡°I-we,¡± Lucy stutters, but I step in to rescue her from her own tongue.


    ¡°I believe we both know dungeoneering isn¡¯t Lucy¡¯s wish, but even if it were, I have no intention of taking her to the dungeon.¡±


    Della lets out a relieved breath. ¡°Thank heavens, I was afraid you¡¯ve taken after your dad.¡±


    That comment, coupled with a couple other things, weaves a complete story in my head.


    ¡°Wanna go out, Lucy? Show me around town? Maybe to a good blacksmith, or the place where Gila is going to open her shop?¡±


    Lucy gulps, glancing sideways. Something¡¯s obviously wrong.


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go out.¡± Her smile is fake and strained, and I follow her out without saying another word.


    ¡°What¡¯s a matter with Gila?¡± I ask as soon as we turn around the corner.


    ¡°Her parents took her share of the loot. She sobbed, saying they were robbing her of her future, but they didn¡¯t care. They said they needed the money to eat, to provide for Gila and her siblings, and to pay off their debt. Nobody said a word, since she¡¯s their child, living under their roof.¡±


    I¡¯d be livid if that happened to me. Just closing my eyes is enough to recall Gila¡¯s brilliant smile when I told her she could have my share of the herbs. I can imagine just how devastated she was to have her parents crush her dreams when she was on the cusp of realizing them.


    I keep the thought in mind, but Edna¡¯s crisis takes precedence.


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    ¡°Is there anything interesting happening in the town? Something we could do?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s gonna be a witch-burning tonight, in the field outside the walls. I heard a bunch of inquisitors have caught someone extremely dangerous. Tod said thirteen went after her, but only ten returned.¡±


    Thanks Tod, whoever you are.


    ¡°Lucy, I have a crazy idea. Do you want to hear it?¡± Her lips crack in an expectant smile. Gestures with her eyes for me to continue, and I do. ¡°How about you and Gila run away? The witch-burning is a chance to leave the walls with a mass of people, and nobody asking questions, then we can sneak away and just leave. Gila can learn a respectable craft in another castle and lead a happy life there while we travel. Or you could stay with her.¡±


    Lucy stops and stares at me. The good news is she isn¡¯t saying no, the bad news is the way she¡¯s staring at me. I think she¡¯s wondering whether I¡¯m a human trafficker or something.


    ¡°Do you really mean that?¡± Her voice is tinged with disbelief.


    ¡°Yes, sure, I want to give you two a chance.¡± For a moment, I wonder whether I¡¯m making a wrong move, trusting these two. What if they don¡¯t want to be mages? What if they prove to be a liability? Do I have any right to involve myself in Gila¡¯s family matters?


    ¡°Do you think Gila would be interested?¡±


    Lucy nods. ¡°All Gila wants is a life of luxury. When we talked about it, she said she¡¯d like to seclude herself in her shop, make beautiful dresses and live a carefree life. I just don¡¯t know whether anything¡¯s changed now that her parents took her money.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to her, nightfall is less than three hours away, so we have plenty of time.¡±


    Lucy weaves a path through the maze of streets, coming to a halt before another door, identical to that of her own home. The plaque is a bit different, ¡®Riven¡¯ written in a rougher hand, but otherwise, it¡¯s impossible to differentiate the houses.


    Lucy knocks on the door and takes a step back. A short stick-of-a-woman opens the door, holding a whimpering baby in her arm. Behind her I can see a messy household, the smell of some foul cooking spreading into the street, along with the noise of what must be anything between three and ten dozen children.


    ¡°Lucy, dear, what brings you ¡®ere?¡± She eyes me suspiciously, and I put on a light, friendly smile, one designed to reassure parents of troublemaker kids whose friends are all troublemakers themselves.


    It didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°And ¡®ho¡¯s ¡®e?¡± She squints at me.


    ¡°Hello, aunty, this is Griff, he helped Gila and me, and I was gonna show him around town, and I think Gila might want to go with us, to say thanks and all.¡± Lucy fires the words in a single hurried breath, like a chain reaction crash with half the words mangled.


    Aunty, however, just eyes me again from head to toe. She clearly suspects some ploy, I don¡¯t know which, but her scrutiny clearly informs me I¡¯m a suspect.


    ¡°Alright.¡± She turns her head around, shouting with no regard for the baby. ¡°Gila, come ¡®ere. Lucy and your friend are waitin¡¯!¡±


    I don¡¯t know how, but Gila apparently picks out her shout in the ungodly din, and comes over. She looks like a kicked puppy, then brightens up when she sees me.


    ¡°Griff!¡± She¡¯s excited, but a moment later her depression strikes back with a vengeance and she looks like someone poured a bucket of water on her head. ¡°Hi.¡±


    ¡°Hello Gila. Nice to see you again.¡± I smile and speak like I¡¯ve noticed nothing odd. ¡°I just got into town, and Lucy offered to show me around, would you like to join us?¡±


    She starts stuttering, but her mother just pushes her out.


    ¡°Get married,¡± she whispers into Gila¡¯s ear, probably thinking I can¡¯t hear her. And to be honest, one needed at least twenty physique to catch her words. On the other hand, even a blind man could see Gila¡¯s pale face turn a marbled red.


    She trips, and I catch her, her mother grinning like all is going according to plan before she shuts the door.


    We move down the street in an awkward silence before I speak.


    ¡°So, Gila, how do you like this place? What would you say if I offered you a way out of here?¡±


    The girl snaps her head towards me, her interest obvious.


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be a witch-burning tonight, and we can use it to slip away. You won¡¯t get the kind of life of comfort you wanted, and while I can¡¯t guarantee your safety, for obvious reasons, I won¡¯t force you into dungeons, or make you do anything you don¡¯t want to do.¡±


    She¡¯s considering the offer, which is good, so I turn towards Lucy. It¡¯s time to set some proper boundaries.


    ¡°The same goes for you. I can¡¯t guarantee your safety, but I will try to keep you safe, and I won¡¯t abuse you in any way without your permission. That said, I¡¯m not selfless, I do have a goal and you two could help me reach that goal. Personally, I don¡¯t think my offer is detrimental to you, and I would certainly accept it if I received it.¡±


    I pause, giving them the time to process what I¡¯m saying before I continue. ¡°That said, accepting my offer comes with danger. What I offer is a life of freedom and dignity, but it comes at the cost of having those who would rather kill you than let you live such a life. What do you say?¡±

 Chapter 34 - The Witchburning

    Day 38, 6:30 PM


    I¡¯ve led Lucy and Gila out of the fortress. We kept to the edge of the throng of people going to see the burning, and I slipped them away from the crowd, towards the jungle. They are familiar with the terrain, the wandering wildlife is nowhere near as dangerous as the fifth floor of the dungeon, since humans aren¡¯t the only food around. Besides, the girls have wandered those wilds plenty of times without getting hurt.


    We have agreed on a meeting point, and as I check my mental list of things to do, all seems well so far. Should I fail and die, they can just return home. If they don¡¯t want to associate with Edna, they can just go home. Even if they snitch on us, it will be too late, and they won¡¯t know where we¡¯re going, because I sure as hell don¡¯t plan to take the road.


    As the crowd shuffles around me, I recall another chase, ages ago. Just me and her, a whore and a madman slave, running from an entire kingdom. God, Manny, I miss you.


    I had a passing thought of treating Edna like Manny, of giving her a chance to become my lover. Manny told me I need to forget her, replace her with other women. But I simply can¡¯t do that to my goddess. Not yet. Maybe not ever.


    The crowd stops in a clearing. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the same meadow where they burned me and where my life on Everrain began. I decide that it is. What¡¯s about to happen should be equally monumental for me as my violent rebirth, and the fact that they are taking place at the same location seems poetic.


    I have eight available attribute points remaining, and the next moment I have zero. Four went into strength, four into agility. A funny thing, this frail body with a bunch of levels can now beat my old god of war body into a pulp.


    I step through the crowd, careful not to trample anyone. At first I move gingerly, fearing any incidents from my sudden increase in strength, but as soon as I touch someone, they just move out of the way. I don¡¯t shove them, they don¡¯t topple or anything, they just move to the side voluntarily, seemingly unaware of the action.


    I advance slowly, unwilling to cause a ripple the inquisitors might notice. Still, I reach the front row in a matter of moments. There¡¯s a priest again, ten inquisitors clad in red robes, and four guards to keep order.


    The guards wield clubs, inquisitors all have poleaxes, and finally the priest is unarmed. The guards stand in front of the crowd, while the inquisitors surround a massive pile of sticks. Edna is tied to a tall stake set at the center of kindling, ready for burning.


    Her eyes are out of focus, her face a smear of blue, black, and green. She¡¯s still wearing her own dress, albeit torn and stained with blood, probably hers.


    The rain intensifies as night draws close, and I¡¯m certain burnings in the downpour are an act of sadism, one fortunate for Edna. Otherwise, they would¡¯ve burned her before I came to help.


    The priest starts listing false accusations. He claims Edna is the agent of the wormlords, spreading blight and mutated monsters, clearing a path for them to advance closer to the castle. She eats little children and leads men into the depths of the woods to spawn more mutants.


    My lips stretch into a smirk.


    Listening to his nonsense, a stroke of inspiration hits me, and I commit myself to risk everything to save Edna. I will die to save her, burn the world, die while under redo, whatever it takes, even if I have to go through another death or redo spiral.


    A sane person would ask themselves why, but anarchist¡¯s level up condition almost jumps before my eyes.


    Help a person wrongfully penalized by the authorities, heedless of the consequences. Had they accused Edna of being a mage, and burned her because that¡¯s the law, I would stand no chance at leveling up, but slandering her so they could burn her alive, now, that¡¯s an anarchist¡¯s pet peeve.


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    Just in case, I have to wait to see if they would go through with it. The person needs to be penalized, not accused or threatened. So, I listen to the zealot¡¯s mad drivel, then watch him carry the torch towards the pile of kindling. The fire hisses and dances in the rain. I draw my dagger and squeeze its enchanted wooden blade between my thumb and forefinger.


    The torch touches the kindling, my dagger whistles through the air, there¡¯s a thud as the blade sinks into the back of the priest¡¯s skull, and the man falls. Unfortunately, he lands on the pile of flammables, torch-first.


    I run out of the crowd, my staff whirling through the air, and smashing an unsuspecting inquisitor¡¯s skull into mush. The crowd reels, but before they even scream, I brain another inquisitor.


    A scream breaks the spell, the crowd starts running away from me like a stampede or whatever giant bugs do in Everrain, and I¡¯m left one against twelve, with fire spreading rapidly beneath Edna¡¯s feet.


    The inquisitors point their poleaxes towards me, but I smack the shaft of the one nearest to me, the polearm flying out of his arm, straight into another¡¯s face. A portion of my mind cheers, elated by Battlefield Mastery, while the more focused part of my consciousness pays attention to the middle portion of my staff.


    Batsy II hits the disarmed inquisitor¡¯s nose with more force than a truck. Bones crack, his head snaps back at an angle guaranteeing a broken neck, carrying with itself the rest of his body.


    The wet sponge-ground squishes as bodies fall. It¡¯s been mere moments, I¡¯ve downed four already, but fire races through the pile of twigs and branches.


    The smoke and smell of burned wood spreads, reminding me of how little time I have.


    Four inquisitors holler, rushing towards me, while two others approach more conservatively, spreading to flank me. Those two are probably more dangerous than the four.


    The guards hesitate. They are watching the carnage, probably wondering what¡¯s happening, who I am, and realizing that the whole situation is well above their pay grade.


    The first rule of battle is eliminate the weak first. They will stab you in the back while you fight the strong, or they will create opportunities for the strong, their weakness making them lethal. So, I run from the charging inquisitors, straight for the guards.


    I roar, brandishing my staff, and they turn around and flee in terror. In the corner of my eye, I see the inquisitors are still after me. I slow down, pretending I¡¯m looking after the guards, but turn when the first inquisitor enters my reach.


    He¡¯s keeping his poleax above his head, the fool, swinging it down towards me. Batsy II spins with me as I pivot. I dodge his ridiculous attack with no trouble, and my staff finds his ribs without error.


    Bones shatter, and he spews blood, flying straight into his ally, tripping up a man with a sharp, long-shafted ax. Unfortunately, he keeps control of it and doesn¡¯t behead his buddy, but the tangled mess of two inquisitors does block the third, leaving me one-on-one with an unlucky bastard.


    He swings at me, I¡¯m tempted to grab the shaft and kill him with his own weapon, but such moves are reserved for the two veterans. Instead, I duck. Batsy II is useless right now, still held like a club in my right, so I close the distance, and punch the reeling man in the throat.


    He falls, choking, and I glance back, the guards are still running away. Even if they turn around and rejoin the battle, it¡¯s a lost cause.


    The only problem is the fire, it¡¯s already licking Edna¡¯s legs. I don¡¯t make direct eye contact, watching her in the corner of my eye, but I can still clearly see that the old magae¡¯s eyes are open wide while muffled screams escape through the rag crammed into her mouth. Four inquisitors left, one tangled with a corpse, the other smart enough not to advance towards me alone, holding a defensive stance above his prone comrade.


    The vets are still maneuvering to flank me, rage burning in their eyes, but their movements measured, revealing no immediate openings. Those two fought against the odds and survived at least once.


    I keep to my strategy, strike the weak and don¡¯t go after Edna. If they realize how important she is to me, they would use her as a shield, a hostage, or worst of all, they might kill her outright out of spite or zealotry.


    I charge towards the two. The smart one makes a mistake and steps back. At the last possible moment, instead of lashing at him, I spin and smash Batsy II at the one lying down. He raises his polearm to block with the shaft, but he¡¯s too weak, his prone stance horrible. His arms buckle, and Batsy II goes through his skull like a hot knife through whatever they use here for the idiom.


    The smart one is shocked, his face bloodless, and I use the moment of fear to storm his defenses and break his neck.


    I heave a breath. The vets close in, their eyes livid, blood flooding their faces, marbling them red.


    It¡¯s one against two, and my time is running out.

 Chapter 35 - Breakthrough

    Day 38, 6:40 PM


    One against two. You¡¯d think that means things get easier, but this is where the real fight starts. Hell, I remember going through an army of mooks, and the only problem being the knight who led them.


    Add in an important woman, whose dress is smoldering as she stands atop a blazing pyre, and you get some nasty pressure. The only upside is that Edna had apparently made her dress impervious to everything, including flames. Smoke and suffocation are the real hazard, but I hope I can make it in time.


    My heart beats like a galloping grasshopper, or whatever Everrainians ride, and I lunge towards a randomly chosen inquisitor, hopefully the weaker. The man steps back, his poleax blocks my path, and I leap to the side. The ax-head, tipped with a sharp point, follows me even after I duck and roll.


    My maneuver seems random, but other than testing the man¡¯s solid defense, I also opened the path towards Edna. Another choice, end these two now, and save Edna once I deal with them. She can almost certainly handle a minute of being roasted and choking on smoke fumes. Or, dash for Edna, take her off the stake and flee while leaving my back exposed to the two inquisitors.


    Based on the way this guy moves his ax-spear, his physical stats should be around twenty, maybe twenty-two, and my guts told me he was the weaker of the two.


    I twist around, the other¡¯s poleax slashing at my midsection. I block with my staff, locking it with the ax-head, but the other inquisitor¡¯s ax swishes through the air. A strange thought strikes me. I could let him hit me.


    If I get wounded, I¡¯ll pulverize these two during my rage, but its duration increases with physique, and Edna might die before I regain my senses.


    Yeah, that¡¯s not an option. I jerk the ax-head I have locked towards me with half my strength, and the inquisitor pulls with all he¡¯s got. The sucker fell for it. I jump straight towards him, and his eyes go wide.


    The second ax whistles impotently behind me as I soar forward. I¡¯m inside the stronger inquisitor¡¯s reach, and he can¡¯t use his polearm. I¡¯m still flying towards him as he releases the shaft. His hand moves for the knife at his hip, and he shifts his weight to the left, trying to get away.


    Good thinking, good reflexes, too slow. My fingers claw between his neck and lower jaw, they dig into the flesh with all my weight and momentum, and I use him to turn mid-flight. He gurgles a shout as his neck snaps, sounding like a bough cracking. I somersault and land on my feet just as his lifeless body squishes on the sponge-earth.


    One on one.


    I look at the stunned inquisitor and dash. Stunned enemies are great for one thing; killing.


    His arms are heavy with his fear and realization that he¡¯s the last one on his side standing. His morale is low, his movement just a tad slower than they could be.


    Batsy II connects with his fingers holding the polearm. Flesh and bones burst, and he lets go. The final mistake of his life. I spin the weapon, using his remaining gripping hand as leverage, and ram the ax into his temple.


    I don¡¯t deign him a look and sprint for Edna. The fire is already burning her and getting through it is next to impossible, even with my body and willpower. So, I jump. My strength and agility lift me twenty feet into the air, and I kick at the top of the stake with both my feet. It flies while I push myself back out of the fire. Man, having almost four times the strength and agility of a regular human lets you do amazing things.


    I somersault again and land on my feet before circling around the fire and pulling out the stake, along with Edna. She¡¯s a mess. I move to untie her arms and legs, then I see they nailed her to the beam.


    ¡°Edna, look at me.¡± Her eyes are wide with pain, muffled screams still escaping her lips. ¡°Edna, I won¡¯t let anything happen to you, but I have to pull these spikes out. It¡¯s gonna hurt.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t respond, but her screaming grows louder when I draw the first one. Sadistic zealots rammed twelve into her body, three into each limb, to keep her from escaping. Blood oozes out of her wounds, and I can feel rage welling up inside me.


    They pulverized her hands, her fingers broken in such a way that even if she made a full recovery, her hands would lose most of their mobility. Finally, I remove the rag, and she whimpers, strength for screaming long gone from her body.


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    ¡°Edna, focus.¡± I grab her as gently as I can, carrying her like a princess. ¡°Can you heal yourself?¡±


    The question strikes home. The rational part of her, backed by inhuman willpower, grabs hold of the thought, and she starts singing. Her song is weak, melody much simpler than anything I¡¯ve heard her sing, and merely a handful of green motes draw towards her.


    The effect is weak, but she¡¯s healing herself, and she will recover.


    Good enough.


    ¡°Edna, I¡¯m going to run now. I¡¯ll try to keep steady, but expect some jostling. Work on the puncture wounds, not on your hands. Hands we can fix once we¡¯re sure you won¡¯t bleed to death. And Advanced Healing is telling me Edna¡¯s dying. I need to apply pressure to her wounds, but I can¡¯t stay here, who knows who or what might come after us.¡±


    She seems to have heard me. The green motes cling to her thighs and upper arms, and I start running. A blue screen flashes before my eyes, showing a notification I have been waiting for centuries.


    [You have leveled up.


    Select a defining feature within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.


    Amicable - Human interactions have a higher chance of positive outcomes. Your choice affects your personality.


    Aggressive - Your punches strike harder when you¡¯re the one attacking. Your choice affects your personality.]


    I read the notification. Aggressive seems like the one for me. I rarely defend, since offense is the best defense, but I¡¯m tired of fighting.


    I can already slay beasts, men, and monsters with much more proficiency than anyone I¡¯ve ever met. More than I ever wanted. And maybe, just maybe, the higher chance of positive outcomes might translate into me not having to go through life by leaving a pile of bodies behind me like I just did.


    I might regret it later down the line, but I choose to be Amicable. With a thought, my anarchist screen comes into view.


    [Anarchist Level 6


    Abilities - Rage, Redo, Blunt, Heavy Handed, Direct, Insightful, Precise, Amicable, Godly ??, Vengeful ?, Grandmaster Rider ?


    To level up, start a large-scale riot or a nation-scale public disturbance.]


    So, given Everrain¡¯s population distribution, to level up, I need to overturn the entire system.


    Well, ain¡¯t that dandy. I run through the dark forest, rain hammering at the canopy high above my head.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Edna whispers ten minutes later. She¡¯s not healthy yet. Either she spent her mana, which I doubt, or she can¡¯t focus anymore.


    I check her condition, she¡¯s no longer dying, and she¡¯s lost a frightening amount of blood, but she¡¯s stable.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. You¡¯ll pull through this, but we will need to focus on escaping. After this incident, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the entire Church of Holiness starts hounding us.¡±


    I keep my eyes on the ground before us, but I can sense her despondent stare.


    ¡°Can you speak?¡± I ask, and she nods. It would¡¯ve been a pointless response for someone less perceptive, but I won¡¯t fuss over the little things, so I focus on the big matters. ¡°What happened? How did they capture you?¡±


    It¡¯s a sore point, but so is all of Edna, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation, she explains what happened after we parted ways.


    The inquisitors scouring the area for Fyoor found her hut and seeing so many magical items, set a trap for her. She confessed that part was a guess, but it sounds reasonable to me, even if she¡¯s shifting some blame my way with those words.


    The inquisitors set up an ambush, in which she killed three, but the rest of them got her, muffled her, broke her fingers, and knocked her unconscious. The inquisitors woke her in a dark cell and interrogated her through yes or no questions. She wasn¡¯t allowed to speak, her mouth still muffled, and responses came as nods and head-shakes.


    Again, the matter of greatest interest was Fyoor, followed by magic in general.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying a mage can be ambushed by four peasants, as long as three are ready to die in the process?¡± I ask as she concludes her account.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t peasants. They have high magical resistance. I keep a constant lookout a hundred yards in all directions, but their resistance interfered with it, and I failed to spot them until it was too late.¡±


    They are wearing blood-red in a gloomy forest, Edna. All you needed was eyes, not magic.


    ¡°They are wearing¡ª¡± I clamp my mouth shut. Damn Blunt, using the chance while I¡¯m mentally fatigued.


    ¡°¡ªmages out. That¡¯s how they plan to win this conflict.¡± I don¡¯t know how good that cover was, so I change the topic just in case. ¡°We need to get out of here, Edna. You were fine in your hut for twenty days, so we can assume we have a grace period half as long as that. We need to make these ten days matter. Are we running together, or do you plan to stay here?¡±

 Chapter 36 - Convincing

    Day 38, 8:50 PM


    I reach Lucy and Gila with Edna out cold in my arms. The girls have started a fire. In its light, they nervously await my arrival. When I started out in Everrain, kidnapped by a presumed mad witch, I never expected a development like this. It almost feels like a German folktale. I¡¯m leading children away from their homes, with a witch in my arms, only lacking a dancing goat or donkey. Considering Everrain fauna, maybe I should settle for a big juicy grub or a soft-spined caterpillar for a devilish henchman.


    I step into the light slowly. Reddish-orange dancing and making the palette of olive colors decorating Edna¡¯s face even eerier.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Lucy asks, Gila hiding behind her.


    ¡°The witch the inquisitors were burning.¡± Both girls pale and step back.


    ¡°Watch out.¡± I jump towards them, still keeping a firm hold on Edna, and grab Gila just as she¡¯s about to step into the fire. ¡°You could¡¯ve burned yourself. Saving one woman from a fire is more than enough for one evening.¡±


    The girls don¡¯t find the joke funny, however, the irony of the situation doesn¡¯t escape me. I want to turn them into mages, which would make them eligible for burning by the rest of their civilization.


    The girls are still terrified of Edna and me by association. The first thing to do is make them relax, listen, and then make an informed choice.


    ¡°Look at her.¡± I thrust Edna¡¯s beaten, bloody, and bruised form towards them. ¡°Does this woman look like a creature of darkness to you? I was killing abominations with her at the edge of the corrupted lands mere days ago. Why would a spawn and helper of wormlords do that? Does she look dangerous?¡±


    Thankfully, Edna is in the pathetic state she¡¯s in, otherwise she would¡¯ve looked very dangerous, much more dangerous than the abominations which could eat the girls alive before they managed to blink.


    ¡°Listen, I didn¡¯t lie to you. What I wish is to offer you a life you are in charge of. I want you to have choices and options beyond doing what you¡¯re told and with the biggest prospect in life being getting married to some Fred-like loser.¡±


    I look them both in the eye.


    ¡°But I can¡¯t in good conscience allow an innocent woman to die just because someone claims she¡¯s evil with no evidence. She¡¯s been living alone in the forest for years, for heaven¡¯s sake. She was growing medicinal herbs and food to trade with those who needed them. What kind of threat could she possess?¡±


    Time for the best argument I could find.


    ¡°And, if she¡¯s so dangerous, why did the inquisitors wait for her execution? Why did they let a crowd watch? People who are dangerous die fighting, you don¡¯t drag them around however you want.¡±


    ¡°How did you rescue her?¡± Lucy asks, her mind catching up with the situation and probably making some guesses.


    ¡°I killed the priest and the inquisitors and sent the guards running back home before I saved her from the fire.¡±


    Gila¡¯s face is white. I can¡¯t even see a hint of blood flowing through it.


    ¡°We¡¯re dead,¡± she mutters. ¡°They are going to hunt us down and burn us on the pyre.¡±


    I think she¡¯s overreacting. There¡¯s no way anyone can figure out who I am, nor that I¡¯m associated with the girls. It would¡¯ve been a different story with the girls watching. Someone would¡¯ve noticed that they knew me, but I can make an argument of Gila¡¯s fear.


    ¡°That only proves my claim that they burn innocent people. Regardless, I think you can just go home now, and claim you got lost in the commotion. Nobody can say who was there and who wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Griff.¡± Gila glares at me, clenching her teeth to calm down before squeezing the rest of the words out of her mouth. ¡°How could anyone get lost going half a mile in a straight line in the middle of an open field? Tell me, what excuse do I have for staying out two extra hours?¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    She keeps talking before I can mouth a response, her tone rising and growing more aggressive.


    ¡°And even if you have the most perfect, rational, reasonable response, I will have to deliver it before the inquisitors who can see your very soul when you speak with them. And I will have to talk to them! Because, because they will suspect me. And they would be right, because I was seen and have received aid from someone who killed a priest and a bunch of inquisitors. How do you even do that? What gave you the idea?¡±


    Her skin grows marbled once more as blood rushes into her face from all the screaming. I¡¯m certain she doesn¡¯t want a real answer. She doubly doesn¡¯t want and doesn¡¯t need to know about BSD telling me I have to save someone like Edna from a situation which is absolutely detrimental to me.


    And even after succeeding on the first try, the consequences for me are grave. The entire world will be after me. That¡¯s why I need extra eyes and extra heads. People who don¡¯t think like an illegal alien that I am, or the secluded half-mad witch who lives in the woods and talks to slugs.


    Edna and I are desperately lacking the perspective of the common person, of someone like Gila, who believes the inquisitors can see her soul.


    ¡°Does that mean you want to go home? Because I won¡¯t threaten or stop you.¡±


    ¡°Are you deaf, Griff?¡± She screams. ¡°I just said I can¡¯t go home! Inquisitors will torture me and burn me alive, and I have no idea how to survive outside the walls. My choices are getting burned alive, starving to death, dying of some disease I pick up, or joining you.¡±


    ¡°Do you think joining me is worse than staying home with the things as they are?¡± I keep my voice even, genuinely curious about what she¡¯s gonna say.


    The question stumps her. She stares at me, trying to say yes, but really, for Gila, her parents stealing her hard-earned dungeon loot must¡¯ve been maddening. She was a step away from her dream, then they brutally stole it from her. Quite literally.


    Since she¡¯s quiet, I continue with the rational approach, leaning into Amicable.


    ¡°All right, and this morning, have you had any better options than what I¡¯m offering right now? Have I mistreated you so far? Have I taken, stolen, or even denied you anything?¡±


    ¡°Dammit, Griff! This isn¡¯t about what¡¯s better or worse, I¡¯m done for! You didn¡¯t give me a choice!¡±


    Lucy is silent, observing the one-sided shouting match. Some people don¡¯t take well to rational speech, and the other person being calm only angers them further, so I guess I need to change my approach. I draw a deep breath, pretending I¡¯m getting worked up, and start shouting back.


    ¡°I had no choice either! All right? What else could I have done? Told you, ¡®Hey, Gila, I¡¯m about to go murder eleven people to free someone they are falsely accusing of being a witch. Wanna run away from home with me?¡¯¡±


    I don¡¯t really like pointless shouting. It¡¯s pointless for one thing, and it¡¯s a sham in which I¡¯m exerting my charisma to win them over, which also doesn¡¯t sit well with me. I would prefer if they could decide to follow me willingly, without me forcing their hand.


    ¡°Tell me, Gila, what would you have done? What was I supposed to do if you said no and went to the inquisitors? What would¡¯ve happened to you had you gone to them?¡±


    Gila deflates. She¡¯s a cautious person. One accustomed to always fearing the worst, and seeing her family situation, I understand why. But right now, I¡¯ve got her spinning scenarios about what would have happened had she approached the inquisitors with such a claim, and I can see the cogs turning, deducing that all roads led to the pyre. So, I press her fear.


    ¡°Even if I told you nothing, but they found out we were associates, what do you think would have happened?¡±


    Pyre. It¡¯s burning in her mind.


    ¡°Gila, I went to save an innocent woman.¡±


    Who¡¯s technically a mage and a sworn enemy of the church. But there¡¯s no need to mention that. Instead, I hammer in the final nail.


    ¡°Gila, if you were on that pyre, innocent, I would have killed those inquisitors for you. I would have raised hell to save you.¡±


    Gila deflates, all her fight gone from her.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve done it for you too, Lucy.¡± I turn towards the other woman, who blushes.


    The way she acts, the way she looks at me, I know she has a crush. She would¡¯ve followed me even if Gila left. I¡¯m not sure what to do about that. Leading her on is bad, denying her outright is also bad, sleeping with her is even worse. For the moment, the best option is to play ignorant, and have a serious talk with her once she¡¯s mastered some magic and has a more solid reason to stay with the group.


    The girl is unaware of my thoughts. She looks at me with loving eyes and cheeks marbled red as she nods.


    ¡°I know.¡± She says with way more certainty than I feel. Edna had the advantage of being my mentor in magic, and BSD¡¯s level up condition had her back. But as Lucy is now, all puppy-eyes, full of adoration, and willing to follow me to the grave, I must admit, I would probably risk everything to save her.


    I¡¯ve done it once by using Redo, and I would probably do it again. Which is a shame, because that means I will probably have to kill myself at some point in the future to keep all three of them alive.


    An entire nation will be coming after us, and eventually, they will catch up with a force overwhelming enough that I will need to cheat.

 Chapter 37 - Healing

    Day 39, 2:30 AM


    Edna cracks her eyes open as much as her welts allow, her head on my lap. She looks up at me, and I place a finger over my lips, telling her to be quiet, then motion towards the sleeping girls.


    ¡°Heal yourself first,¡± I whisper, ignoring her dismay as she realizes we have two more companions. Her swollen face and quarter-open eyes detract from her furious glare, and just like with Gila, I ignore her anger. She will get used to things.


    ¡°I suggest you start healing your hands and whatever else you need to cast more potent spells. We¡¯re heading out as soon as the rain lets up. If you can¡¯t walk by then, I¡¯ll carry you.¡±


    Her glare remains unchanged, but she starts singing. I close my eyes and perceive the world with my mana sense. Hints of red swirl where the fire is burning, while the surrounding green rushes towards Edna. It forms thick clumps, which rapidly merge and grow into head-sized spheres, which then condense into tiny marbles, moving from something fluffy and immaterial to solid and real. I can almost hear mighty trees grow in a primordial jungle behind Edna¡¯s wordless song.


    The beads fuse with her liquid rainbow arm, a fraction merging with her, but most of it evaporates in greenish-brown mist. I look Edna over and notice she¡¯s got a lot more brown than usual in her rainbow. The mana of death and burial according to what she said during our lectures.


    Does that mean you die as death mana accumulates in your body, or is it accumulating because pieces of you are dying? A thought I should consider one day when I capture someone or something I can experiment on free of guilt.


    Brown fades from Edna¡¯s hands first, then she moves on to her face. That confirms that even with the simplest healing spells, you can choose which wound you are healing, a very convenient feature.


    Half an hour passes, and the girls are still asleep when Edna is done.


    ¡°I need to sleep an hour or two before I can restore the rest of my body.¡± Her words flow much smoother and her breathing is more regular than the last time she spoke, so I¡¯m guessing we¡¯re making progress.


    I open my eyes, and my healing skill tells me Edna¡¯s out of the woods, but far from healthy. Her feet and legs are burned, the wounds from the spikes on her legs still raw, while she has healed the ones on her arms just enough to restore her fine motor skills.


    ¡°Sleep. I will guard you.¡± I wanted to say more, but she¡¯s already out cold, and holding speeches for the sake of talking is Blunt¡¯s domain more than mine.


    An hour and a half later, Edna stirs again. She starts singing without saying a word to me, and I switch to perceiving the world with mana sense. Her rainbow arms weave into complex patterns and with mana sight, I can tell that the shapes and holes left behind almost resemble some alien glyphs beyond my understanding.


    With each glyph, the tide of mana she¡¯s pulling grows stronger, until it becomes a verdant tsunami and smashes into her body. The emerald storm drowns the brown hues, expelling them from Edna¡¯s body. As the brown surges out of her body and into the forest of life it maintains a withered, skeletal shape for a moment, before dissipating, dismembered by life¡¯s tenacity.


    Edna draws a deep breath, bones cracking, and stands to face me, a furious humanoid rainbow thrumming with mana.


    ¡°Why did you bring them?¡±


    Where did the grateful woman go? Well, that¡¯s not fair. I expected a similar outburst as soon as she had the strength for one. I just hoped I was wrong.


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    ¡°Because they were already involved. The townsfolk would have discovered who was the person behind the rescue, then they would¡¯ve found out my connection with them, then they would have suffered because of me.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t there a third one?¡± I open my eyes, and the blazing rainbow avatar becomes a confused, disheveled, and angry woman. Mostly angry.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a dumb little shit. Would¡¯ve run off to fetch the inquisitors as soon as he saw you, and that would have resulted in either me killing him, or killing another bunch of inquisitors, and I really don¡¯t want pointless blood on my hands.¡±


    ¡°And the fact that you are alone with three women is a coincidence?¡± She crosses her arms.


    ¡°Well, yes.¡± I smirk, and shoot the accusation right back at her. ¡°And when you traveled in mostly male company before that was because you were looking to start a harem?¡±


    As expected, the counter-accusation stumped her.


    ¡°You will see they are hardworking and talented. I won¡¯t force them down any path, but they are caught up in this storm we have caused, and Lucy¡¯s breathing changed, so I think she¡¯s awake.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s been awake the entire time,¡± Edna says. ¡°The first time I healed myself, too. I don¡¯t think she slept a wink.¡±


    Well, I missed that. Then again, mana sense pretty much overloads my brain as I try not to think about how the forest smells of bleeding lettuce and sounds like a symphony of beating hearts and intense farts.


    ¡°Lucy, you are free to speak your mind,¡± I say and glance towards Gila. ¡°Is she just that good at acting or?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s sleeping like a bellex.¡±


    I have no idea what a bellex is, but I¡¯m guessing they are sound sleepers.


    ¡°Should we wake her then?¡± I ask Lucy. ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel fair to discuss your shared future without her, unless you have some questions relevant only to yourself?¡±


    Edna glares at Lucy, who, faced with an angry witch, scampers back into her shell. Whatever questions she might have had will have to wait a long while.


    ¡°All right, should we wake her, or delay this talk until she wakes up on her own?¡±


    Edna graces me with a death glare, and I shake Gila awake.


    ¡°Just a bit more, please. I don¡¯t want to wash the dishes.¡±


    Typical Gila. I shake her once more, and she opens her eyelids. Confusion, remembrance, realization, fear, and finally resignation flicker through her eyes as she stares at me. A hint of resentment stews there as well. I ignore it. I knocked the girl¡¯s life off the rails, even pure hatred is understandable.


    ¡°Gila, Edna is awake, and we should discuss our next steps going forward. You have a short while to collect yourself. I know you are sharp, and you understand that this is going to be an important talk, one that decides all our futures.¡± I consider it while talking, and end the short speech with a ¡°Thank you.¡±


    To her credit, the girl is ready almost immediately, and so I once more seize the initiative.


    ¡°Edna here doesn¡¯t want you to join us. I know you would have been safer back at your homes never meeting me in the first place, and the two of you aren¡¯t all that enthusiastic about traveling in a magae¡¯s company. Things are what they are. I was afraid the inquisition would snatch you, torture you, and I had to pull you out of Tallrock.¡±


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t Fred here?¡±


    ¡°Good question, Gila, one I won¡¯t get tired of answering.¡± I don¡¯t know what it is about Fred that pushes my buttons. Is it the fact that he used the girls? That he tried to shift the blame on me? I really don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s fun hating him. ¡°Because Fred is a little piece of shit. He formed a party in which he was the strongest. He appointed himself leader, then took you to the dungeon without permission. He¡¯s also a coward. Had he found out about Edna, he would have run off to get the inquisitors without considering what would happen to him afterwards.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like Fred either, do you?¡± Gila¡¯s voice is flat, her frown telling, so I decide to liven things up a bit.


    ¡°Actually, I like him a lot.¡± All three of them stare at me with eyes wide open, even Edna.


    I burst into laughter, probably more into the role than what normal people would consider healthy.


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m kidding, I hate the little shit. He tried to frame me, he was willing to risk the life of others for his own benefit while he stayed safe. You might say he¡¯s a natural born politician, and I hate politicians.¡± I drop the flippant act and focus on the three of them.


    ¡°I do care about you. Edna here seems unaware of it, but I challenged ten inquisitors, four guards, and a priest just to save her life, valuing her life as more important than fifteen, well technically eleven others put together, not to mention the risk I faced while fighting one against ten.¡±


    Edna¡¯s frustrated expression turns to shock. I mean she knew I¡¯ve slaughtered her captors and tormentors, but she somehow failed to grasp the implication. I have no idea what she¡¯s doing with all her mental stats, but apparently, thinking isn¡¯t heavily involved.

 Chapter 38 - Plans

    Day 39, 5:15 AM


    ¡°And since I care about you, I¡¯m going to explain some things.¡± I look at Edna. ¡°You already know everything I¡¯m about to say, and the topic might pe painful for you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m staying.¡± Her voice is determined, and I nod before explaining the political reasons behind the church¡¯s prosecution of mages and those who can live outside its influence.


    The girls aren¡¯t stupid, they understand what I¡¯m saying, and the fact that they are willing to listen and think about the topics I¡¯m discussing means the church rules through fear rather than benevolence. If they loved their rulers, they would have resisted my revelation that they are tyrants. But since they are already aware of their tyranny, my story is easier to accept.


    ¡°What we can offer you is teaching you magic.¡± Edna glares at me, but doesn¡¯t object, so we¡¯re making progress. ¡°But if you aren¡¯t interested, we can also help you in other ways. Since I¡¯m currently learning to be a mage, we can help you level up in the classes I¡¯m going through. Our primary goal is surviving without getting caught. Our second priority is to be strong enough to crush the inquisitors when they catch up to us.¡±


    Which brings me to the crucial question.


    ¡°We have eliminated thirteen inquisitors. How long will the church take to deploy thirty of them?¡±


    Edna meets my gaze, I¡¯m asking her, but she shrugs.


    ¡°Holy Bastion is the capital of the Church of Holiness, and the only castle with that many inquisitors.¡± Gila, of all people, answers. ¡°Over one thousand inquisitors and their acolytes live there.¡±


    She looks at us, and I realize my jaw just dropped.


    ¡°I was a maid at the priest¡¯s home, working to save up enough¡­ Well, you know why. Anyway, some crazy old heretic punched the priest dead, and I lost my job, and here I am.¡±


    My jaw would¡¯ve dropped lower had I not recovered from the initial shock, but Edna gives me a weird look, and I know exactly what she¡¯s thinking. I got poor, little Gila fired. I¡¯ve been shattering her dreams left and right, and I can only hope she doesn¡¯t learn the truth.


    ¡°Do you know any other information like that? Have any castles tried to rebel? Are there any in extremely poor condition?¡±


    ¡°Deephorn is besieged by monsters, and the church was considering whether to abandon it. Old father Tack grumbled about the church being stretched too thin when he discussed outside news with his wife, but that was many months ago.¡±


    ¡°Do you know where that castle is?¡± Gila shrugs, and I look at Edna.


    ¡°The church changed the names of pretty much everything. I only know the new names of the few surrounding castles.¡±


    ¡°Deephorn is three weeks west-south-west of Tallrock,¡± Lucy says. ¡°The monsters control the surroundings, and the castle is like a tip of a horn poking into the lands ruled by monsters, that¡¯s how it got its name.¡±


    This might actually work! Gila is privy to sensitive church information because nobody ever minds the help when discussing important matters which don¡¯t concern them. Lucy has been dreaming of traveling for years, and it makes sense she¡¯s been collecting information about various settlements.


    I shoot Edna a smug look, and she rolls her eyes in a very familiar fashion of a woman wanting to smack me on the head.


    ¡°We could go to Deephorn, deal with the monsters, and take our time to grow powerful. If it¡¯s a region the church has decided to abandon, we will get some reprieve from the inquisitors¡¯ hounding, and they might even lose our trail entirely.¡±


    I look at Gila. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely you can be a tailor in an abandoned town, which would lack trade, but if you¡¯re a well respected mage, you might get your wish of living inside the walls in luxury.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    She wants to stay grumpy, but the thought of eventually getting what she wanted out of life draws a smile.


    ¡°Once we settle down, we can seek out more potential candidates and teach them magic too. If we expand our mage order enough, and raise a dozen powerful mages, we can stand up to the church and later go on the offensive.¡±


    And here I go again. I wanted to be a rebel, an anarchist, but some habits are hard to get rid of. For instance, seeing a chance to conquer the world and not seizing it. I tone down my excitement.


    ¡°But first, we need to get there. It¡¯s best to assume we only have some fifteen-twenty days before the inquisition sends pursuit, and we should use that time to send them on a wild¡ª¡± Do they have something on Everrain which can replace geese in that idiom? ¡°¡­chase.¡±


    I finish weakly, but I think the girls understand my meaning.


    ¡°We can go towards the corrupted lands and head for in an arc to throw them off our trail. A group of twenty to fifty men will certainly draw abominations towards them.¡±


    Gila and Lucy are terrified while Edna nods. The idea of restoring mages appeals to her, while driving a large group of inquisitors into the corrupted lands to struggle against abominations draws a smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I assure the girls, ¡°the corrupted lands aren¡¯t that terrifying as long as we stick to the outer edges. Edna can¡¯t use magic, but I can defeat any minor abomination we run across. I can even handle more than one at a time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s much simpler than it sounds,¡± Edna speaks on her own initiative, and I shut up. While a minor gesture, her talking means she has accepted my proposal. ¡°Abominations are fiercely territorial. Griff will kill an abomination, and we will pass through its area safely. After a day or two, another abomination will smell the corpse and claim the territory, blocking the path for our pursuers. If Griff acts as our vanguard, all we are going to see are some smelly corpses, maybe not even that. But we will have to go in slightly deeper than we did last time, Griff.¡±


    She wants the inquisitors to suffer, I can tell. If a large crowd moves deeper through the abomination territory, it¡¯s only a matter of time before they make a disturbance large enough to draw everything from the region to them.


    ¡°You think it¡¯ll work?¡±


    She nods. ¡°I¡¯m positive.¡±


    Well, she¡¯s on board; now for the girls.


    ¡°As I have already stressed, nobody will force you into anything, whatever choice you make is entirely your own. I know your options are limited, and I apologize for that, but such as they are, they are your decisions are yours to make. You can follow us like camp followers, I could train you should you choose a martial class, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s where either of your affinities lie, but I will help as much as possible if you make that choice; or you could learn magic.¡±


    I¡¯m not very subtle about it, I want them to learn magic. Not because it will increase our combat ability, but because I will have contingencies should Edna one day forget the debt she owes me and betray me.


    Until that happens, I will trust her completely. Should she prove me wrong, Redo will help me correct my mistake in a swift and merciless manner.


    Lucy steps forward. ¡°I want to learn magic.¡±


    She trembles as she says the words, and there¡¯s little confidence in her stance and voice. A not-so-tiny egoistical part of me thinks she¡¯s made the decision just to impress me and draw me closer. Whatever her reason, I am pleased with her choice.


    Her development and whatever relationship she might be going after are perfectly fine, as long as I keep the old adage in mind, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I will not toy with her feelings, abuse them for my benefit, or mistreat her. For both our sakes.


    Gila is indecisive, and apparently angry.


    ¡°Can magic help me with making clothes and make my life better?¡±


    Edna is about to curse her, but I speak first.


    ¡°Edna made this fine dress for herself. It¡¯s been through a fire, and there¡¯s barely any singes on it. Speaking of which, Edna, could you enchant our clothes to be like yours? Resistant to fire and maybe some other common forms of elemental attacks, as well as slashing and stabbing.¡±


    ¡°This is just a flame retardant cloth I made. It can¡¯t stop a fireball or a knife. What you¡¯re describing is advanced runic work, and there¡¯s no way to do it without inscribing the item you¡¯re making.¡± She turns towards Gila. ¡°And, yes, magic can make or shape objects, it can change their properties, but it requires years of studying and hard work to understand how to do that. It doesn¡¯t happen overnight.¡±


    Unless you cheat and get a skill that does it for you.


    She¡¯s trying to scare Gila, but the girl nods, as if that¡¯s how things should be. She listens to Edna¡¯s speech to the end.


    ¡°In that case, I want to learn magic too.¡± She says with more resolve than Lucy has shown. ¡°I¡¯ve never been afraid of hard work, and if it can help me become a tailor, then I¡¯m all for it.¡±


    I can¡¯t believe my ears.


    She really just wants to be a tailor?

 Chapter 39 - Three From One

    Day 41, 10:30 AM


    ¡°Are we far enough?¡± I ask, despite knowing the answer.


    Edna hesitates, then nods. ¡°We are.¡±


    I don¡¯t know why she didn¡¯t want to hold lessons until we got closer to the corrupted lands than we were to Tallrock, but as an apprentice, I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s my job to obey my master, rather than doubt them.


    Lucy, Gila, and I kneel beside a thirst tree, enjoying the extra dry ground, and wait for Edna to begin her lecture. She stares solemnly at Gila.


    ¡°I formally accept you, Gizella, as my apprentice.¡± Edna shifts her focus on Lucy. ¡°I formally accept you, Lucella, as my apprentice.¡±


    The women nod, their expressions focused, probably trying to do what we discussed earlier, resolve themselves to abandon their previous classes and become Edna¡¯s apprentices.


    ¡°It worked!¡± Gila barely stops herself from clapping, and a moment later, Lucy joins in on the excitement.


    ¡°Start of lesson.¡± Edna says. ¡°Your task right now is to attend ten lessons without missing a single one. We are still trying to find which requirements need to be fulfilled for my speech or actions to be considered lessons¡­¡±


    Ten blocks of ten-minute lessons later, Gila and Lucy receive a level up notification. As agreed and explained during Edna¡¯s ten lessons, the girls pick Initial Mana Sense, and we continue our journey.


    The jungle and the surrounding terrain have already become common to me. You know your life has taken a strange turn when salivating trees and vines oozing industrial grade acid become as common as apples and sparrows had been back on Earth.


    In the evening we make camp. Edna lines us up and holds a lesson on how to cook dinner. She goes into details, but uses simple language while she holds us hostage, kneeling and watching her prepare dinner.


    Lucy and Gila get a level out of it, and blood rushes through Edna¡¯s cheeks. She¡¯s furious that her months and years of painstaking, hard work can be replaced by two hours of cheating.


    Days pass, we travel through the corrupted lands, slaying our way through the minor abominations until Edna freezes.


    ¡°Something with much more mana is ahead.¡± Her whisper is so quiet, I doubt the girls have heard her even though they are just a step behind me.


    Ever since we entered the corrupted lands, Edna has been our leader, using her much more developed mana sense to locate nodes of dense mana, which I then followed to eliminate the minor abominations. The fact this one spooked her speaks a ton.


    ¡°Can I kill it?¡±


    ¡°I think so. You handled minor abominations without problem. The issue is how much noise the abomination will make before you slay it.¡±


    ¡°Is it worth the risk?¡± We lock gazes, and she says, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re turning left and heading back to the tamed lands.¡± The girls have already caught on to the fact that something dangerous is ahead. I needn¡¯t rub it in their face that we¡¯re turning back primarily because of their safety.


    ¡°Edna, have you considered taking a combat class once you tap mage for all it¡¯s worth? I could train you.¡±


    She glances at me over her shoulder. ¡°I will remain a mage and strive to become an archmage. Why would I want to learn to fight with weapons?¡±


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    ¡°Because inquisitors fear sticks more than spells.¡± Blunt says the words, but I don¡¯t stop it. It¡¯s right, and the words help me realize something.


    Inquisitors must have quite a few levels under their belts, and yet their combat ability doesn¡¯t reflect it. They are probably too focused to seek and counter magic.


    Edna freezes again.


    ¡°Go,¡± she hisses, her finger pointing in the direction of the abomination. ¡°It sensed us, run.¡±


    In the space of a blink, I understand what she wants. I will intercept the monster, she will flee with the girls in the opposite direction. After I kill it, I will sprint after them, hopefully escaping any aftermath of the fight, should it turn too loud or too ruinous.


    I fly towards the monster, sprinting faster than a race car. Wind rustles in my ears like the last time I dove while riding a griffon. My enhanced eyesight, wisdom, and intellect process the surroundings without difficulty, and I hardly make any noise at all.


    The thrill couldn¡¯t have lasted more than ten heartbeats, maybe fifteen, and suddenly I¡¯m upon it.


    I have no idea what the thing was before the wormlords turned it into the hippo-sized amalgamation of spikes and blades. Beneath the forest of serrated limbs is a giant, misshapen maw flanked with six slim tentacles and dozens of feelers. The creature lacks eyes, but it keeps four feelers on the ground at all times as it rolls towards me without error, effortlessly bulldozing shrubs and saplings.


    I sweep Batsy II two-handed like a giant club and smash it into the monster¡¯s body. My arms throb as if I¡¯ve hit a plate of steel, and the staff recoils instead of sinking into the flesh and breaking the monster into pieces.


    My eyes bulge, and I realize I haven¡¯t struck my target. A wall of three dozen blades blocked my blow. Then, another two dozen blades and spikes shoot towards me. I twist my body and Batsy moves in a whirl. Some chitinous weapons clang against her, while others fly past me, and I see each of them ends in sinew, connecting the weapon to the main body. They aren¡¯t projectiles, but harpoons.


    As if to prove my point, the spears and blades snap back to the body as the sea urchin of doom retracts them.


    The action buys me half a second, and I strike with the staff again and again, but the damn thing blocks. Its reflexes and ridiculously powerful shell would¡¯ve made me despair if not for one thing. The weapons which parry my strikes come out chipped and cracked, each time more so than the last. The damage is minute, something most would miss, but I see them as bright as day as I move to the side, maneuvering to keep myself between it and the tree I know from experience has a trunk tougher than bronze.


    The abominable urchin unleashes another volley. I dodge and parry, and five of its harpoons pierce the tree, showering me with shrapnel of tough bark.


    Instead of hitting the abomination, I draw my sword and slash at the tendons just as the monster retracts its weapons. The sinew is taut, and the blade backed with all my strength cleaves two of them in a single strike. The other three are still stuck, but instead of slashing them, I charge towards the urchin, aiming for the opening left by the missing harpoons.


    The abomination blocks my staff, but I invested less than a third of my strength into the blow. The true attack is the blade. I plunge my sword into the exposed flesh, and the giant urchin shudders. I release the blade, and strike with the staff again. It blocks, but this time three of the parrying blades shatter. I deliver a side kick, ramming the sword with my foot into the abomination¡¯s flesh, all the way to the hilt.


    The horrific maw unleashes an ungodly screech, all the monster¡¯s blades whirling into the air around it. They slash randomly, and I retreat before the nebula of blades and spears. In the chaos, the beast damages itself more than anything else, its erratic movement slashing at its own body and cleaving its flesh.


    Did I stab its brain? The random maelstrom certainly hints at some neural damage, otherwise, the creature should¡¯ve stopped hitting itself. I decide it¡¯s a good thing and observe, waiting for a chance.


    The blades retract, the monster grows still, and I smash Batsy at my sword¡¯s hilt one more time. The creature¡¯s flesh bursts. The piece with my sword in it sloshes to the ground with a meaty thump, while the other two, perfectly equal halves drape themselves in blades and spears and flee in two opposite directions, one left of me, the other to the right.


    What the hell?


    I watch in confusion for a split second before I realize what has happened. The thing just thought I was a cat and threw me its tail so it could flee. Obviously, the tactic was more refined, more advanced. It even severed itself into two fully functional halves and fled in two directions to ensure survival.


    I stand there another moment before confirming I have no intention of chasing the abominable urchin thirds. What they do in the wilds is their matter. I¡¯m not here to exterminate abominations, not now anyway, and two of them prowling the area, or better yet merging at a later date to block the inquisitors is an excellent result in my book.


    Settled on a decision, I turn around and sprint towards Edna and the girls. It sounds preposterous, but traveling through the abomination¡¯s domain is the safest route. We just need to ensure we turn back towards the relatively safer portion of the corrupted lands before we leave it.

 Chapter 40 - Journeyman

    Day 63, 12:10 PM


    ¡°I got a level!¡± I interrupt Edna mid sentence. She glances back, gifting me a frown for my effort.


    As expected, the choice is between getting better at estimating distances and getting better at estimating weights. Both seem fairly useless. But the former sees more use in combat, so I pick it and read the next level up condition.


    Ask a question your master should know the answer to, but they do not. Alright.


    ¡°Hey, Edna, can you tell me why it¡¯s raining all the time or what¡¯s causing the rain to fall?¡±


    The woman¡¯s dissatisfied frown deepens. ¡°That¡¯s just the way things are.¡±


    Another level up notice appears.


    ¡°Thanks!¡± I pick Initial Arcane Lore, since I believe the skill is vital for a mage, and I¡¯m missing it. I wait a moment. Nothing happens, no epiphanies, no surge of knowledge floods my brain. But I know that when I need to know something about arcane subjects, I will know it.


    BSD is retarded beyond belief. If I had access to all that information now, I could further develop the skill. Then again, had I earned the skill through study, I would have had the foundation needed to advance it. Maybe.


    ¡°The condition to reach level seven is to ask a question your master should know an answer to, but they don¡¯t.¡± I check my stats. ¡°To reach level eight, I need to obtain a perfect mastery over my voice and fine motor skills.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s going to be a tough one.¡± Edna comments. My back-to-back levels would have annoyed her, had the girls not relied on my tips to cheat, steadily advancing their levels over the past few weeks.


    I think Edna has started to change her mind, and once I or one of the girls become mages, she might just restart her classes. I kind of hope it¡¯s because of my persuasiveness and the logic behind my words, but a part of me knows it¡¯s because of Amicable improving the positive results of human interactions.


    ¡°How long do you think you will take?¡± she asks. ¡°Level eight skills are both worth it.¡±


    I put my newly acquired attribute points into strength and agility each and consider the question.


    ¡°I love to sing, but I haven¡¯t done it in a while. You might not believe me, but I was damn good at it. As for my fine motor skills, they should be good enough. What is the most demanding task in terms of dexterity you can think of? Maybe we can make it into a lesson, so that the girls can benefit from it as well.¡±


    Edna considers the words and nods.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try teaching you a spell beyond your ability, if you can mimic it with enough precision, it should count towards the level up condition.¡±


    A tempting idea. One I love for multiple reasons, it will be the first dip of my toes into the world of actual spellcasting while helping me advance and helping me analyze magic.


    We continue our journey, and Edna continues giving lessons until the evening downpour. Given our pace, the girls should advance in another day or two. We might reach Deephorn by then, we might not. I¡¯m unsure without proper maps and orienteering skills.


    Edna starts a fire with a couple flicks of her wrist, we share a meal, and then she begins her evening lesson. First, she sings a haunting melody void of words. She chose a spell whose song is extremely adequate for our purpose. Her voice shifts from the depths of an oceanic trench, climbing high across the world¡¯s spine, and soaring towards the skies.


    Usually high pitches prick at my ears like mosquitoes, but Edna¡¯s voice translates them into a thing of beauty. I hear flowers budding and blooming beyond the tone, and suddenly it¡¯s over. The song transitioned from death to life in a dozen heartbeats. I have no idea why I know that when there were no words, but knowledge sits in my mind. It could be my newly acquired arcane lore, but I doubt it.


    ¡°Now you do it.¡±


    Easier said than done, but I give it a shot.


    My voice sinks into the trench, which births thoughts of a watery grave; of drowning and despair.


    The undead at the bottom of the ocean scale the cliffs.


    ¡°Slower.¡± Edna breaks my mental image, but I obey.


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    ¡°Higher,¡± she orders, and my voice reaches the mosquito tones until I can¡¯t tell whether my ears are buzzing or my mouth is spawning the uncomfortable tone.


    Soon, it¡¯s done, and Edna has a single-word compliment for me. ¡°Again.¡±


    I sing once more. The dead stir. They rise and climb the underwater bluffs and trudge forth along the sandy bottom until they leave the sea for the beach. The air is dry, hostile. The skeletons crumble, but their sparks and dust move on, carried by the wind. They reach a barren plateau, where their dust settles to nurture new life.


    ¡°Passable,¡± Edna compliments me again. ¡°Watch my fingers.¡±


    They wiggle and bend, and while rapid, the gestures are easy enough to mimic. I get them on the first try, and Edna says nothing. Still no notification, though.


    ¡°We¡¯ll try another song.¡±


    She starts singing something completely different. Her voice is hard, serious, with a steely quality which grates at the ears and the air alike. It expands, spirals out of control, and explodes in a space of two breaths. A much simpler spell than the previous one, but harsh and packed with energy.


    The spell¡¯s violent shift makes the song difficult to imitate. I get it right the fourth time, following Edna¡¯s corrections until BSD appears before me.


    A choice stands before me, specialization in an unknown area versus versatility. I¡¯ve considered it before and reached the decision in no time at all. Specialization is what one takes when striving for excellence in a particular field. What interests me is survivability, and a Jack of all trades has better tools for the job than a specialist with a color of magic which is off limits or diminished.


    Just imagining that I might lose access to something vital like healing is enough to push me towards my choice.


    Initial Mana Ambivalence appears in my list of skills, which has grown so long my skills are replaced by a message to see abilities for more information. I leave my free attribute point be, and check the level up condition.


    List all ten mana affinities. It¡¯s a piece of cake.


    ¡°The ten mana affinities are: objects, death and burial, elemental forces, stars, chaos and cowardice, life, order and bravery, space, time, and fate.¡± I list all ten as taught by Edna, but nothing happens. I look at my master, for the first time with genuine puzzlement.


    ¡°Edna, my level up condition is to list all ten mana affinities. I just did, but nothing happened.¡±


    She furrows her brows, her eyes losing focus as she combs her memories.


    ¡°Try with colors.¡±


    I list the ten colors, but nothing happens.


    For some reason, the fact fills me with unease. I try listing the colors with associated contexts, calling yellow cowardice, the chaos in turn, but time after time, nothing happens.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve felt better if the level up condition said list all twelve mana affinities. That would just mean there are some we don¡¯t know about, but this is much worse.¡±


    Edna understands, and based on her frown she agrees with me for the first time that not knowing is a problem. The girls, however, appear stumped, even after investing five points into intellect and wisdom to improve their comprehension.


    ¡°If there were more than ten types of mana affinities, it might mean we simply haven¡¯t or can¡¯t perceive one, but since there are exactly ten types that either means we are mistaken about their nature or purpose.¡±


    I don¡¯t mention it might mean we don¡¯t know about one or two or five colors outside our visible spectrum, while splitting known affinities into subsets. Violet and indigo seemed like an iffy split right from the start. There could be a single space-time mana affinity, while we are missing something else entirely.


    Getting to the bottom of this will take years, and the problem itself might be unsolvable. That being the case, I won¡¯t stop my progress for something beyond my ability.


    It¡¯s time to quit.


    ¡°Edna, I¡¯m ready to advance to journeyman mage.¡±


    She nods, and we sit.


    ¡°Firestarter is one of the oldest and simplest spells.¡± The girls are also sitting, listening, and watching with focus. ¡°For me, it¡¯s barely a gesture, but for a journeyman mage, it requires both movement and a song. Listen.¡±


    Edna sings of a dot becoming a circle, of a termite devouring a whole tree. The two songs overlap, lasting less than ten seconds. There is no boom or whooshing at the end, just a quiet, steady expansion combined with devouring.


    I repeat the melody, and Edna makes no corrections. The song is easy and linear, straining neither my mind nor my voice.


    Then her fingers dance. It¡¯s a simple wiggle, easy to mimic, and I start right away.


    ¡°Good, now observe my mana.¡±


    I watch the green trickle out of her, swirling around her fingers until it flows towards the pile of kindling she wishes to ignite. Moving mana is the hardest part, but I master it after fifteen minutes, and a spark appears in the kindling, growing, devouring before it becomes a flame.


    ¡°Congratulations, Griff, you have performed magic. While you are no longer my apprentice, I will be there to help and guide you.¡±


    The words seem ceremonial, and I commit them to memory before checking BSD.


    [Name - Fyoor Enchanterson


    Class - journeyman mage level 0


    Health 25/25, Strength - 25, Agility - 25, Physique - 25, Wisdom - 28, Intellect - 32, Willpower - 26, Presence - 22, Charisma - 23, Composure - 25


    Abilities - See Abilities for more information.


    Attribute points remaining - 1


    To level up, learn three different spells.


    Statuses - none]


    Finally! I can do magic.

 Chapter 41 - Left For Dead

    Day 65, 2:00 PM


    Learning magic is one of the most, pardon my lack of a better term, magical experiences in my lives.


    Sensing the ethereal images veiled behind the wordless songs which somehow tell the world what I want it to do is exhilarating. Doubly so because most have not a speck of connection with what the spell really does.


    The intent behind the leaf and twig gathering spell Edna uses when making camp is a sudden whirlpool in a calm lake and a leviathan gulping in a mountain of water. And yet, while clearly related to water, the gatherer collects everything loose enough in an area and forms a pile.


    Strange.


    Lucy and Gila have also reached apprentice mage level seven, the perfect control of their hands and voice still beyond them. I wanted to argue the utility of the skill I got for my mastery, but they are set on matching my level, so I let them be.


    Edna spent days indoctrinating them into how much effort and how long people took to finish apprenticeship; about how taking two weeks is shorter than it took most people to reach level one. I¡¯m personally of the opinion that classes should be trampled as quickly as possible and abandoned when the advancement took too much effort.


    Women disagree, and I let them. A more disturbing fact is that I have encountered a problem with restarting classes. There is a decent overlap between apprentice and journeyman mage skills.


    Since we¡¯ve stopped with the obsessive lecturing, Edna told us the list of skills, and the sheer amount of same or similar choices makes my strategy of redoing classes more difficult. To do things properly, I will need to abolish all my classes and tear them down to level zero, and I¡¯m not certain that¡¯s possible.


    What I am certain of is that gaining Advanced Mana Sense naturally is beyond me, and choosing Advanced Focus over it is out of the question. As for my second level, I doubt that taking Initial Mnemonics was a superior choice over Advanced Draw Mana; my memory is good, but Edna scared me, and fearing my path towards mage would be severed, I chose the dumb skill.


    Unfortunately, there was no time for further advancements. As we neared Deephorn, the monstrous insects grew so frequent, we had to fend off attacks every quarter of a mile.


    ¡°Does anyone have any idea why there are so many bugs around?¡± I ask.


    Surprisingly, the one to answer is Lucy. ¡°There¡¯s a dungeon several days away from Deephorn, but it¡¯s in the corrupted lands. The road leading to it was threatened by the wormlords¡¯ monsters, so Deephorners abandoned it, and the monsters started spewing out of it. Westgate, Floodrock, and Redder had similar issues. It was too late to save Westgate by the time people realized what would happen if dungeons were abandoned. Floodrock and Redder paid a great price, but they reestablished the connections with their dungeons. Deephorn failed. They suffered terrible losses, and the castle is bound to fall.


    Lucy¡¯s lip stretches into an ironic smile.


    ¡°All four are terrible places to visit, and they were on my stay away from list if I ever managed to leave Tallrock.¡±


    My lips mirror her own. Life is full of doing things you never wanted to do.


    After another hour, and killing two dozen mantises and phasmids we reach a castle built atop a massive rock jutting out of the ground. Four fifths of its walls were an extension of a cliff, while the final twenty percent sloped to the ground, with three smaller defensive rings filled with farms and killing grounds.


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    Giant insects prowled the area before us, but showed no particular interest in the human settlement looming ahead.


    Four humans walking the deforested plain, however, drew their interest very much. A horde of oversized lobsters, hunter spiders, centipedes, and all other sorts of creeps starts congregating towards us.


    Edna¡¯s response is a song. The wordless melody promises violence and disintegration by a runaway train before spawning a wave of fire, which gushes forward from her outstretched arm. The wall blazes for fifty yards before winking out, leaving behind a land of ash and smoking lobster and centipede carapaces.


    Once more the monsters attack us, and once more Edna turns them to smoke before we reach Deephorn¡¯s outermost gate. Centipede carapaces litter the ground, and nobody mans the sealed entrance.


    Fortunately for the townsfolk, monsters lack intelligence. The gate is undamaged, while the sheer surface helped block most of the insects. The townsfolk were fortunate. The cat-sized orb-weavers would have had an easy time entering their walls, but they would never leave the forest, so the only real threats are the centipedes and isolation.


    I look up and spot movement behind a machicolation. I wave, squinting in the drizzle.


    ¡°Greetings, we have heard the townsfolk of Deephorn are in danger from the insects and we have come to help. May we come in?¡±


    ¡°You and the witches leave!¡± the man above shouts, but at least he doesn¡¯t drop a rock on us. I guess that¡¯s amiability at work. ¡°We don¡¯t need your kind here!¡±


    ¡°Dear Sir,¡± I say. ¡°First of all, the ladies and myself aren¡¯t witches, we are mages and mages in training. While it is true the Church of Holiness hunts us, we don¡¯t hunt anyone, not even the church¡¯s members. We have heard the church has abandoned you, left you for dead, and retreated from Deephorn. If that¡¯s not true, we do not wish to impose, and we will move on.¡±


    ¡°Stop being an ass, Tim,¡± a woman says above our heads, ¡°and go open the door for them. Any help is welcome.¡±


    Not for the first time, I¡¯m wonder whether my skills and attributes work better on women than they do on men.


    Tim takes his sweet time, but lets us in. He¡¯s an ugly man, a scar on his cheek the clear sign of a centipede having taken a bite out of him. Beyond the gate is an expanse of farmland with several dozen people working the fields. I shift my focus back on Tim, his waxed armor and oily beard.


    Tim draws a spear at me, I snatch it and stab the head into the ground.


    ¡°Greetings, Tim,¡± I beam a smile at his confused face. He used no lethal moves, just jabbed the spear in my general direction to show how dangerous he was. Lot of good that did to him.


    ¡°Stop being an ass, Tim!¡± The woman shouts from the allure, and I agree with her. Tim really is needlessly being an ass.


    ¡°Good day to you, my lady.¡± I bow towards her, my eyes never leaving Tim¡¯s hands. ¡°I am Griff, a weapon master and a journeyman mage escorting honorable magae Edna and her two students. We would like to help you fend off the menace plaguing you and offer you a bright future if you are interested.¡±


    ¡°Go up and take my watch, Tim.¡± The woman descends a rope and hops onto the ground a handful of yards away. She¡¯s much older than I had expected. Her body is still stalwart, like that of a thirty-five-year-old, but her eyes and wrinkles reveal a much more advanced age. She was pushing sixty, meaning her physique was quite high.


    ¡°I¡¯m Eliesandra, my friends call me Elie.¡± I smile at that, but she continues, a smile much more dangerous than my own touching her lips. ¡°You may call me Eliesandra. As for your offer, we are desperate, the inquisitors and priests have left us over a year ago, but that doesn¡¯t mean I can allow you inside the castle.¡±


    I struggle to follow her train of thought. She pointed out we¡¯re not friends, but isn¡¯t hostile. She¡¯s desperate and freely admits it, but can¡¯t accept our aid. A glance at Edna reveals no hint of confusion, so it might be a cultural thing I don¡¯t get.


    ¡°I will inform the castle¡¯s council of your arrival and we will decide what to do about your offer.¡± She looks me square in the eye. ¡°I can tell you that I wouldn¡¯t refuse four able-bodied soldiers, but we¡¯ll see what the rest say. As a token of appreciation and thanks for your gesture, I can guarantee my soldiers and I won¡¯t attack you even if the council decides to banish you. Should that happen, I hope you behave reasonably and leave.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I nod, considering everything I¡¯ve just heard. The woman seems like a true leader, someone I would¡¯ve employed back when I was a king, and hopefully, someone I will have the pleasure of working together with.


    My worry is Tim. Fortunately, I don¡¯t seem to be alone in my worries.


    ¡°Tim, they are going to sit in the guardhouse.¡± Eliesandra points at a stone shack big enough to house ten people. ¡°Nobody is to disturb them, but you are free to attack them should they leave before I return. Is that understood?¡±


    Tim nods as do I.


    ¡°That goes for the rest of you.¡±


    Three dozen soldiers mutter a ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am,¡± and Eliesandra gestures towards the guardhouse. We enter, and she trots towards the castle.

 Chapter 42 - Deephorn

    Day 65, 8:45 PM


    The dead town¡¯s council sure is taking their sweet time reaching a decision. Especially considering their choices are to gamble on what some might view as heretics or to die.


    I can see fatalistic fanatics choosing the latter over the former, but I don¡¯t think people abandoned by the church would have all that many fanatics. Fatalists, on the other hand¡­


    The inside of the stone guardhouse is surprisingly homey and warm, both courtesy of the fire dancing and crackling in the corner. Lucy and Gila are working their fingers, trying to reach level eight. The foreign space and dozens of strangers monitoring us make them too embarrassed to sing the dirge of the drowned dead climbing up to dance in the stars.


    A thought strikes me.


    ¡°Hey, Edna, does that melody evoke an image in your mind?¡±


    She nods. ¡°It tells me of ascension from a deep pit. It reminds me of a mage specializing in shaping earth from my youth. He once opened a fissure miles wide, which swallowed countless aberrations. The melody brings back to mind how they struggled to climb out before the earth closed and buried them.¡±


    ¡°Can you do something like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± hesitation seeps into her voice as she drags the word, ¡°and no. I can make a fissure, but I can¡¯t match the scale at which he could manipulate the elements, earth in particular. Mages have access to skills which allow us to convert other types of mana in our surroundings or our bodies into the one we have the most affinity for. For me that is green, for him it was red. I think that with Initial Mana Ambivalence you will have an ability to distribute mana evenly throughout your body, while Advanced Mana Ambivalence combined with the other option should, in theory, change the outer mana to match that of your spell.¡±


    That¡¯s neat and interesting. Also, it tells me that while the fissure which I will one day make will be larger than Edna¡¯s, it probably won¡¯t reach the size of the one her deceased friend used to make a century or two ago. At least that should be the case if skills are the only deciding factor in casting spells.


    A soft knock came on the door. I glance towards it, but Edna doesn¡¯t shift an inch. She knew they were coming.


    ¡°Griff, you and your honorable friends are welcome in Deephorn.¡± Eliesandra, who sounds much more like Elie right now, opens the door, water torrenting all around her as if someone¡¯s pouring it from a bucket.


    I can¡¯t believe trees are fighting over every drop of this infinite bounty.


    ¡°Thank you for your welcome, Eliesandra.¡± I give her a slight, statesman¡¯s bow. ¡°We would like to help your community with the most burning problems you have in exchange for food, lodgings, and possibly other goods and services, depending on the type of problems you¡¯re facing.¡±


    ¡°Please, call me Elie.¡± She smiles at me, and Edna prickles up.


    She¡¯s outside my field of view, but the air definitely grew heavier behind me, and the hackles on the back of my neck stand straight. Is she jealous?


    Whatever the case, we will deal with it later, or she¡¯ll pretend nothing happened. Right now, the most important matter is to be amiable.


    ¡°Thank you, Elie.¡± The sense of doom approaches. ¡°What would the next steps be? We can prove our sincerity now, if that is what you require, but we would prefer working during the day. Maybe you could tell us about your situation, so we can find the best solution for the problems plaguing your castle.¡±


    ¡°Naturally, naturally.¡± Elie laughs. ¡°Follow me, we have plenty of empty houses. A bunch of people moved away with the inquisitors a year ago, only the most persistent have stayed behind to guard our ancestral home.¡±


    Elie leads the way into the castle, explaining the gist of the situation. The town was never as prosperous as Tallrock, but last year around twenty-five hundred residents left, following the priests¡¯ pious speech of retreating for the sake of reconnecting with the territory later.


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    That left fifty-five hundred remaining residents rather bitter. It was obvious they were being abandoned. At best, priests were trying to save as many lives as possible, at worst they were leading a herd of easily manipulated slaves and laborers because they would need them later. Elie¡¯s brother left, taking his children and grandchildren with him, making Elie quite angry.


    I can tell she was still angry with him, but I chose not to make any comments. ¡®We each bear the weight of our decisions,¡¯ isn¡¯t what she wants to hear. In fact, I¡¯m pretty sure she wants me to call her brother gullible, stupid, or throw a minor insult his way, but that might make her stand up for him, and I¡¯m not playing that game.


    The castle itself is once more carved of stone, rain assailing it, and an intricate system of pipes and drains spews most of it outside the castle to feed the giant lake at the base of the cliff. We walk the mostly dry streets of the fantasy communist dystopia, heading for the central administrative building, which is what Elie called the town hall.


    The town¡¯s dignitaries wait for us there, there are seven of them, including Elie. Three men and four women, all over forty years of age, some well over. They give us their names, their hands humbly clasped before them, fear in most of their eyes, but not in their voices, nor in their bearing. They are people used to making a strong front, regardless of the situation. I speak polite greetings to reassure them, afraid Edna might make a comment which would sour the atmosphere.


    ¡°Honorable mages,¡± Harlos, the eldest man with a white beard and slightly murky eyes void of fear says. ¡°I would like to host you in my inn and shop, if you don¡¯t mind. Tomorrow, you may search for a place which suits your tastes better, but a clean and warm shelter should be the best place to spend the night.¡±


    I¡¯m tempted to ask Harlos whether he has giant roaches in the cellar, instead I offer him my thanks while minding Blunt for any outbursts. Elie joins him, and the two of them lead us down the street before we reach an elongated barracks large enough to fit several hundred people.


    Harlos opens the door, revealing a pleasantly warm common room with six massive wooden tables. A fire burns in the fireplace, and a young woman is wiping the tables.


    ¡°Millie,¡± Harlos starts and stops before turning towards me. ¡°Excuse me, honored mage, how do you wish to sleep?¡±


    Now that is a loaded question if I¡¯ve ever heard one. One I have no idea how to answer. Asking for four single-bed rooms is the best solution, but it would leave us too exposed for a night attack, should the townsfolk decide to kill us. If we take two two-bed rooms, more awkward questions may crop up. And if all three girls share a room, I fear Edna might eat them.


    ¡°A single four-bed bedroom, if you have one.¡± That seems like the best choice, and Harlos nods.


    ¡°I have a six-bed bedroom. Will that do?¡±


    ¡°That sounds perfect.¡± I can make a bed fortress in a corner to keep myself safe.


    ¡°Can we have a bathtub and hot water?¡± Gila asks in a voice full of forced cheeriness and genuine eagerness.


    Harlos nods. ¡°I will make the arrangements. Do you need anything else?¡±


    ¡°A warm meal would be nice if you have something.¡± I say out of reflex, my mind still mulling over that tub. ¡°And a screen for privacy for the person taking a bath.¡±


    Edna didn¡¯t have a tub at her place, she cleaned herself with magic, but both the girls and I must reek. Especially me, after spending days slaying minor abominations every hour or two. I dare not imagine how horrible I would be in a world void of continuous free showers.


    Harlos gestures towards the tables and tells Millie to prepare a room for us, while he heads over to the kitchen.


    I take a step towards the tables, but Elie speaks.


    ¡°I leave you in capable hands. Harlos is an excellent host and a skilled cook. I¡¯m going back to the wall, but we will talk more tomorrow morning. Have a good night and rest well.¡±


    I give her the shallow bow, and she leaves, the girls bidding her goodbye. The only one silent is Edna. Ever since we set foot into the castle, she¡¯s been observing everything with a neutral expression, never saying a word.


    I can only hope she¡¯s evaluating the town and its people, rather than brooding in jealousy.


    We sit, and the girls resume their finger-flicking. I have enough experience to offer advice whenever I realize what they are doing wrong, but generally, Edna is less invested in them than she was in teaching me.


    ¡°I have recalled a spell which will let you level up.¡± She finally says. ¡°I¡¯ll teach you tomorrow.¡±


    The spell in question has to rely almost exclusively on outer mana, meaning the inner mana I invest should be minimal while I rely on mana manipulation to make things work.


    I nod in acknowledgement as Harlos approaches, carrying four wooden bowls with spoons. He sets them in front of each of us, then heads to the kitchen before returning with a steaming clay pot.


    He sets it at the center of the table, along with a large wooden ladle.


    ¡°Enjoy your meal, it¡¯s humble but refreshing, and it will warm you up.¡±


    He leaves, and I fill my plate. I don¡¯t know what the ingredients are, and I don¡¯t want to know.


    It looks like carrots, potatoes, and chicken. I resolve myself that they are carrots, potatoes, and chicken, so I can enjoy a hearty meal.

 Chapter 43 - The Mission

    Day 66, 5:45 AM


    Finally, a night during which I didn¡¯t feel bugs crawling all around me or vines reaching out towards me to check whether I was alive or dead. Initial Darkness Intuition feels like a curse most of the time, almost like my nose. I¡¯ve gotten used to both, even so, sleeping on a bed with nothing creeping or burrowing within a foot of me felt like a small blessing.


    The rain lets up, drumming quieter against the tiled roof above, and Millie knocks on the door.


    ¡°Breakfast is ready.¡±


    The four of us, clean and bathed, descend the stairs and enter the dining room. The room is void of people, save for Harlos, our host, and Millie, who happens to be his granddaughter.


    ¡°I hope you have slept well.¡± The old man¡¯s face is strained.


    It¡¯s a tiny, barely perceptible crease in the corners of his eyes, and there¡¯s a slight tension to his voice, something only I seem to notice, but I make no remarks. I¡¯m cautious, but what I¡¯m getting is hesitation, shame, and embarrassment rather than fear or hatred. Harlos should be harmless.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t slept better in a long while.¡± The girls, even Edna, nod in agreement with my statement.


    We sit, consume our morning stew, and bid our host a good day, heading for the wall to meet up with Elie.


    The labyrinthine castle streets follow the same depressing architecture as Tallrock, with uniform block buildings adorned by roofs and gutters which channel the water out of the settlement. Toilets with constantly running water and tap water are an interesting concept, even if the said water is always cold. They would have been wasteful on Earth and Arborea, but on Everrain there¡¯s no shortage of water, nor reason to consider rationing it.


    We leave the front gate of the residential district, torrential waterfalls roaring all around us, splashing the moat, which, in turn, has two side waterfalls overflowing with even more water.


    We pass farmland and two more rows of fortifications before we see Elie marching our way.


    ¡°Good day, I hope you had a good night¡¯s sleep.¡±


    I smile, we exchange pleasantries, then move on to the important topic.


    ¡°I was thinking we should go to the dungeon and clear the upper floors. If we remove the source of the monsters and sweep the floors regularly, it¡¯s only a matter of time before we remove all the bugs from the forest, assuming we want to remove them. They will kill each other to manageable numbers soon enough if their reinforcements disappear.¡±


    ¡°I think clearing the surroundings should also be an important task, one with high priority. While we are self-sufficient to an extent, we rely on merchants for salt.¡±


    ¡°I will conjure salt,¡± Edna says, probably as keen as I am about the news spreading of mages arriving and setting up shop in a forsaken castle. ¡°Do you need it now?¡±


    ¡°We have some more stockpiled, but we will run out in some two months. We also need bronze ingots for tools and weapons. With the reduced population, we are smelting what remains from those who left, but that won¡¯t suffice in the long run.¡±


    ¡°There are ores in the dungeon,¡± I say.


    ¡°They are too valuable and too expensive,¡± Elie starts, but I wave her silent.


    The law of supply and demand states that valuable commodities are those sought after more than there are available. In theory, if we supply the townsfolk with diamonds and mana-infused metals until they are more common than bronze, bronze will become a rare material.


    ¡°Do you know where the dungeon is?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s four days westward, the corrupted land has claimed that region when I was a girl.¡±


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    Four days westward. Naturally, there is a path, but a path that¡¯s been unused for half a century. I glance at Edna.


    ¡°Do you think you can find it?¡±


    She gives me a what-do-you-take-me-for look, and I bid Elie goodbye before we leave.


    ¡°Your lesson will have to wait until we enter the dungeon,¡± Edna says as soon as we are out of earshot. ¡°I don¡¯t know how close to the settlement the aberrations are. They aren¡¯t within hours of this place, otherwise they would¡¯ve attacked, but they can¡¯t be too far either. Risking a night assault over several days isn¡¯t worth it.¡±


    I agree and turn towards Gila and Lucy. ¡°You guys sure you want to come?¡±


    They both nod without hesitation. An increase in mental stats is a blessing and a curse. Their increased faculties paint an extremely clear image on why they need more attribute points to invest in intellect and wisdom to advance further more easily.


    Initial Awakened Consciousness in particular blew their minds and let them understand just how much there was to process while using magic.


    ¡°There is one thing I must tell you.¡± I need to issue the important warning. ¡°Something about the dungeon is off. The increase in attributes you get from it is extremely addictive. It might be intentional, it might be an accident, but it¡¯s very difficult to stop yourself from going down floors once you get a couple of free attributes from it.¡±


    I look at them, but all I see is puzzlement, even from Edna.


    ¡°Another thing we need to establish right from the start. Our lives are more important than clearing the dungeon, than Deephorn, and even more important than magic. If we are facing any genuine danger and the going becomes rough, we will leave. We can always return once we are stronger. Is that understood?¡±


    The girls nod, but Edna seems offended.


    ¡°That goes for you too, Edna.¡±


    She cocks her brow. ¡°If I need you to lift a finger before we reach the fortieth floor, I¡¯ll eat my own shoe.¡±


    ¡°Actually, we will let the girls fight for as long as possible. Then I will help them. Then I will fight alone. And only then will we fight together. We need training and getting used to the monsters we¡¯re going to fight.¡±


    Edna shrugs with a knowing do-as-you-wish look.


    We keep walking until the road before us splits in two. The eastern fork leads towards the rest of the human lands, the road is overgrown, but the ever-thirsty jungle hasn¡¯t reclaimed it yet. The western fork, however, is a mess.


    Roots and grasses have dislodged the flagstones. The stones jut out and tilt drunkenly, some sunken or dissolved. While the road is not traversable, we could follow it, and use it as a guide rather than for its intended purpose.


    ¡°Should we follow it?¡± I ask Edna, who shrugs.


    Good enough for me. I lead the way, and the four days of trek Elie mentioned stretch into five days of constant battle and swatting away monstrous fauna.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Edna says around midday of the seventieth day since I have been reborn in Everrain. She rushes to the side of the road, towards a large obelisk free of creepers. She places her hand on it and smiles.


    ¡°So, this is where we are.¡±


    She seems happy, and I let her enjoy her seemingly important moment. Edna caresses the stone, and I read what I can from it. It says an archmage of healing called Hadriuse had lived in the vicinity before sacrificing himself for the sake of entrapping the wormlords.


    There¡¯s a long list of grateful students and mages he had healed at the bottom, expressing their eternal respect with the indestructible, unblemishable monument sculpted in his honor.


    ¡°Would you like to visit the place?¡± I ask, and Edna shakes her head, then nods.


    ¡°I visited Hadriuse¡¯s House of Healing when I was a girl, but it was far from the corrupted lands back then. I can¡¯t believe humanity has shrunk to this extent.¡±


    ¡°How far is it?¡±


    ¡°About five hundred yards that way.¡± She points towards the jungle. ¡°This monument stood by the entrance to Hadriuse¡¯s complex. There was an ornate bronze gate here before.¡±


    I guess they scrapped it for metal.


    ¡°The dungeon should be close too, some eight miles down the road.¡±


    ¡°How about we first clear the dungeon, then come here to see whether anything remains of the complex.¡± It was abandoned over a century ago, but if inquisitors haven¡¯t burned it to the ground, we should find something useful.


    Edna nods and we continue towards the dungeon.


    Eight miles translates to three hours of debugging the forest, but after those three hours we stand before a small mound with a brick outhouse identical to the one near Tallrock. The soil around the entrance appears plowed, countless sharp limbs had passed the place, bugs climbing the stairs and escaping the dungeon.


    Was that also an intended feature by archmages of old? For the bugs to escape, sapping the wormlords inside more safely than people delving?


    It¡¯s possible, but I can¡¯t believe such wise, intelligent people didn¡¯t see the obvious problem it would cause. The monsters are flooding the ecosystem, and the world has transformed into a bug world over the centuries. Or perhaps it was always a world dominated by bugs, but how did the humans get here in that case?


    They are logical questions, ones I¡¯m certain Edna doesn¡¯t know the answer to. Maybe I¡¯ll get to the bottom of them if I become an immortal archmage and dig for a couple hundred years, but for now, I have the bottom of a dungeon to reach.

 Chapter 44 - Overrun

    Day 70, 4:05 PM


    The first floor is overrun. Forget a bunch of beginner-friendly land lobsters, nearly invisible orb-weaver threads are criss-crossing the trees. Some are torn where stronger monsters passed through them, some are still standing.


    I consider the scene indicating hundreds of orb-weavers, and the dungeon is unlike the one we visited before. I glance at Lucy and Gila; the girls are afraid. The situation is exactly what I didn¡¯t want it to be, risky, dangerous, and unknown. Absolutely not worth the risk of clearing the floor.


    ¡°Edna, how about you handle it?¡±


    She gives me a smug look, then sings of the train bringing disintegration, and a wave of fire turns a wide cone fifty yards ahead of us to ash. She destroyed the trees and monsters alike, leaving nothing but a black clearing.


    Well, that saves a lot of time. Edna graces me another smug look, and I ignore it. We can go dungeon delving once we have stabilized the place.


    I expected a stampede of bugs, but nothing approaches. The orb-weavers have taken complete control of the floor. Probably a lot of floors, since they aren¡¯t very keen on moving.


    ¡°How many firewaves can you cast?¡±


    ¡°Two per hour outside, three or four down here.¡±


    ¡°And if you use more controlled fire magic?¡±


    ¡°Depends. Honorable Alchbert¡¯s Wave of Fire is the most cost-effective spell for dealing with swarms and was staple for dungeon purging back when mages used to do it.¡±


    The first thought to mind is that I¡¯m glad you don¡¯t have to say the spell¡¯s name when casting it. Firewave is an incomparably better name.


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯ll need to cast it around ten times, so we have to stay here for around two-three hours?¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right. You two can try to master your voice here, and, Griff, I¡¯ll teach you the new spell while I¡¯m recovering mana.¡±


    I escort Edna to the edge of the forest, she unleashes another firewave, and we go back to the entrance, ignoring the storm of ash behind us.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to start a fire and just burn down the floor?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Too much smoke.¡± She shakes her head ¡°It would impact visibility, some monsters might survive and use the cover to attack us, better to turn it all to ash. Cleaner, offers no cover, and anything weaker than a minor abomination will die instantly, but they don¡¯t start appearing until the fiftieth floor.¡±


    For the first time since I have reincarnated in this world, I have missed something obvious that she saw right away.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I acknowledge, then we go into the spell.


    ¡°Spells which rely on outer mana the most are detection spells. If you¡¯re skilled enough, you can cover a vast area with hardly any mana of your own. They do require finesse and practice, but the good thing is that once you cast the spell it remains with you as long as you will it and as long as you supply it a trickle of mana. I keep my area of awareness at around one hundred yards away from me in all directions. That¡¯s the distance at which the passive rate at which I draw outer mana and the amount I¡¯m spending are at an equilibrium. In the dungeon, I could make the area larger, but there¡¯s really no need. In fact, I shrank it to ten yards as soon as I cast the first spell because I can use my eyes to spot any hostile creatures now that the plant-life is gone.¡±


    Edna first weaves her hands and fingers like she¡¯s searching for something, and I mimic the gesture. My reproduction is perfect, as usual, and then she starts to sing. The hum of her voice is gentle, almost demure, and I can feel the fear of crushing a frail glass bead she is trying to find on the floor. A lot less poetic scene overlaps with it, in which I¡¯m patting my pockets in search of lost keys.


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    The song ends.


    ¡°Let your mana flow a tiniest trickle. If you let it gush outside your body like you did before, you may face sensory overload from seeing too much all at once.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the warning, I appreciate it.¡± I think that was the first time Edna¡¯s told me something bad would happen before it happened. And best of all, it¡¯s even actionable. I can just increase my mana output as I get used to the sensation.


    Edna¡¯s confused for a moment, then gives me a nod. I repeat her song, more in search of car keys than for a transparent, fragile marble, but the song is good enough for my first attempt. The difference in the melody¡¯s imagery tells me I lack finesse. My expanded consciousness translates things for me in ways that would probably baffle a normal, more sane mind, and not for the first time, I have a feeling doing magic involves a dose of insanity or at least mild mental instability.


    To see half-visions while hearing a hum and to taste colors with your eyes as you follow mana are phenomena which lie beyond sanity. The sphere spreading all around me is similar, but much more mundane. I close my eyes, and my world grows tiny. The textures of everything half a foot around me press against my mind. As does the objects¡¯ heat, smell, and taste, I know their colors and the sounds they are making.


    Just about everything smells of ash and is fairly unassuming. I double the trickle of mana, and my world grows. There is a pleasant, fleshy scent, mixed with an almost imperceptible note similar to roses.


    Edna¡¯s skin is soft, and she is shockingly naked beneath her clothes. Her body is lean and fit, with well-defined muscles and as much fat as she needs for her lifestyle, to keep her warm, to pad her rear and make chairs more comfortable. I already knew her arms were weak, but her legs are freakishly strong; she could probably crack a giant lobster between her thighs.


    In a blink, I sensed all of her body. She¡¯s an art piece, a flesh automaton she sculpted to house her mind and soul.


    I can¡¯t help but wonder about that approach, but then I realize I had her reshape me, too. My fate is such that I will keep possessing dead bodies, possibly for all eternity. Maybe it would be better to treat them all as suits.


    ¡°Edna, do you know what you really look like? Or what you would really look like if you hadn¡¯t manipulated your body to appear the way it does?¡±


    ¡°I would look dead. I¡¯m two hundred years old. Now, get back to work. Once you get a feel for the spell, you have to cast it again, seek the way to improve it and repeat the process until you succeed.¡±


    And so I did. I repeat the song and my fingers feel for the invisible lost items two dozen times, thinking about what I¡¯m doing right and what I¡¯m doing wrong while Edna reduces the entire floor to ash.


    ¡°Next floor,¡± she declares, and we repeat the process.


    ¡°I leveled!¡± Gila shouts, beaming with pride. ¡°I got it!¡±


    She picks Initial Mana Ambivalence because she doesn¡¯t know which affinity she has, and she¡¯s afraid she might lock herself from black or green mana. Both interest her greatly. The former because it might be useful in her chosen profession, the latter because she wants the ability to alter her own body.


    I can feel Edna¡¯s indignation. Blood susurrates through her vessels at a nearly audible hiss, her heart beating faster. A woman who aspires to become a seamstress is outdoing her in her class progression.


    Can¡¯t say I blame her. I¡¯d be depressed too. In fact, Gila¡¯s determination to be a seamstress is depressing. She has a class with all the cosmic power a human of Everrain might wield, and she wants to make frilly dresses.


    Lucy congratulates her, but her voice is strained. Unlike Edna, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening with her body. Being too close to the girls and feeling their bodies with all my senses seemed perverse, so I didn¡¯t do it and opened up a bit of distance between us.


    I join in on the congratulations, and we head for the next floor, where Edna vents her frustration on the innocent death spiders.


    Gila is preparing camp and food for us, while Lucy is still singing her song, trying to get it right. I move a dozen yards away from them and contemplate the difference between feeling for impossibly fragile invisible marbles and feeling my pockets for keys.


    At some point, though, my mind drifts, or at least a part of it does. I contemplate a difficult question, how do you find invisible marbles which will shatter if you touch them? They are scattered across the floor, I know that part of the imagery, so how would I do it?


    I could blow and listen to the sound of rolling? Maybe take a piece of paper and drag it along the floor until I pick up the marble?


    No. The second one, while possible, isn¡¯t the image from Edna¡¯s song. Blowing should work, using the air to do the more manual job of feeling the floor and moving around for me aligns with what I want to achieve.


    I change the song slightly, and a level up notice appears.