Effervesce - 1.1

Reincarnation is a fickle thing. 

The idea of a second chance might be alluring to some, but what of all that was lost in the first chance? To escape the drudgery or terribleness of one life to wind up in a world of magic and wonder? As so many novels like to frame it: to become the main character.

Yes, perhaps a new life in a new world offers the opportunity to become someone, to rise to heights only dreamt of, but when you take off the rose-tinted glasses, how much danger and death paved the way to those heights?

That was rhetorical, we know how much. 

To offset the clear insanity that comes with such trials, characters are often gifted extraordinary powers or cheat skills. Or perhaps, the world is so impoverished that half-baked attempts at civilization uplifting is enough. Maybe magic is so prevalent that a contemporary education trivializes the act of casting spells.

It sounded nice.

A knife bounced an inch away from my foot, the gleaming copper blade threatening to take toes or worse, as I sprinted as fast as my tiny feet could carry me. Blood gushed down my chest and between my arms as the chunk of bloody mystery meat I clutched nearly slipped my grasp.

“I’ll have your hands for this, rat!” screamed the portly woman chasing after me. “Get back ‘ere!”

A part of me wanted to stop and grab the copper knife too, but I’ve seen where too much greed gets the best of us. Instead I continued my sprint, my bare feet pounding the rough-worked stone barely harder than my own heart. 

“Eva, over here,” hissed Jorge from the next corner. I had barely a couple seconds to pass the meat to him before I saw the woman gaining on me. Jorge took the meat instantly, threw it far higher into the air than I possibly could, where it was caught by Helen who was hanging in an old ventilation duct.

Wordlessly, as our prize was secured, Jorge and I split. The woman paused at the corner, taking in the fact that this was a group job, and hesitated for a moment on which target she should be focusing on.

“You rats!” Naturally, she focused on her original target: me. “[Steady Hands]. [Organize The Stock], [Inspect Meat], [Swift Cuts]!”

Ah… shit. There were no lights, flashy sounds, or effects other than her voice reverberating with the power of her skills. Her copper knife appeared in her hand as her limbs went from an exhausted, overweight butcher to a steady, swift butcher.

Still definitely a butcher because the chill of ice water down my spine as I felt like a lamb to the slaughter and a piece of meat on a table was a very real feeling. If she caught me, I wasn’t sure she’d stop at just taking my hands. There were rumors about where some meat came from, after all.

“Frick, oh frick,” I cursed as I jumped over a sleeping drunk and dove into an alley. Escaping via an open street, even in the Stonegut as we were, was infinitely safer than taking to the alleys. 

However, as needs must…

“Rat!” screamed the butcher lady as she had rapidly closed the gap and was barely fifteen feet behind me, as the entrance to the alley. Even she paused at the thought of chasing me in here, but I supposed that anger trumped reason.

After all, fear definitely trumped my own reason.

I barely had the time or strength to throw down any passing pile of trash or debris into her path as I ran for my literal life. The size of the alley, barely four feet wide, did a lot to slow her down. 

Then, as if a switch was flipped, she slowed. The woman’s skills had finally run out, and then that was that. Of course, I didn’t slow down or stop despite that, the burning in my lungs and sides, or my shortness of breath. 

The ground began to tremble before as the world shook violently for a brief moment. I threw out my hands to catch myself on the wall just in time to avoid face-planting on the floor. The tremors didn’t last longer than a few seconds.

I glanced back to check on the butcher woman when I saw her calculate whether or not it was really worth chasing me down an alley, especially since her skills ran out. There was rage written all over her face, but in the end she turned around to begin her walk of shame back to her shop.

I panted, my arms shaking as I heaved in as much foul air as I could, while I watched her look over her shoulder at me. That there, in those eyes, was callous hatred and a very real willingness to murder. 

It was a pretty common look in Stonegut when adults saw me.

“Oh frick, my toes,” I muttered as I rubbed my poor feet. Nine parts bone and one part skin, they were not made for running on stone. I rested in my spot until the woman was gone, then waited some more despite the foul air and disturbing noises echoing from within the alleys.

Things might’ve lurked within them that could eat me, but it was still safer than the sure death waiting for me at the alley’s entrance. There was a branch deeper into the alley, and I had a decent idea where it might exit out into. 

This was, unfortunately, not my first time diving into the alleys of Stonegut.

As quietly as I could I made my way through the near total darkness of the alley, my hands carefully guiding me on the left wall of the alley, as I snuck my way through its stone halls. 

Sounds echoed here, be they the squeak of critters, rustling of things that shouldn’t move, or the solid crunch of something finding a bite to eat. It was hard to tell the distance of these echoes unless they were upon you, and while having a light would’ve probably let me move faster, it would’ve also made me a target.

I wasn’t sure how long it took, but after two more branches in the alley, I finally saw the light of a street. Ordinarily, I would be wary of a mugger, thief, or worse, a guard, watching the alley, but the familiar mop of blonde teen leaning against the wall made me relax.

“Jorge,” I said with a smile.

“Eva, you good?” he asked with his usual overbearing concern. Jorge inspected me, uncaring of the grime and blood that coated me, and instead looked for actual injuries. At finding nothing, he relaxed. “Good, good, that lady was out for blood.”

He escorted me back into the open road and took the lead. While we might’ve garnered attention, especially me, anywhere else, this was the Stonegut. I was barely worth a glance and a snort, and Jorge even less.

At least until we either caused trouble or were carrying something worth trouble. 

“Yeah, crazy lady went at me with skills!” I complained.

Jorge cupped his chin. “Any dangerous or good?”

I started skipping, even if my toes were aching, because despite it all, we got our prize and the thrill of the heist still had its grip on me. “Nah. A cruddy meat inspection and a couple decent buffs that lasted a minute or two. Only decent one was an inventory skill of some kind.”

Jorge’s eyes regarded me curiously. “The space kind?”

I shook my head. “Let her teleport the knife back to her hand. [Organize the Stock].”

“Oh, that. I think it puts stuff into place where you think it should be,” explained Jorge. “Guess she used it to put her knife in her hand.”

I nodded, that made sense. 

Jorge ruffled my hair. “Good job outrunning her, even if you went into the alleys.”

“Psh, I don’t think she’s even capped T-0 let alone T-1, Jorge,” I said with a twirl. We were getting close to our chute, and the thought of being home was giving me energy. 

Jorge scrunched up his nose in annoyance, a cute bad habit of his. “T-1 isn’t easy to get, Eva.”

“Everyone says that, but is it really?” I wondered. Sure, my siblings say it’s hard, and the adults around here are mostly T-0’s, but I was sure it was mostly their own fault for choosing bad classes and skills.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Of course you couldn’t hit T-1 if you just wallowed in T-0! 

Jorge was the second oldest of my siblings and probably the smartest. His interest in classes and skills led him to learning his letters numbers… somehow. He never bragged about how he learned them, but because of him all our siblings were at least literate. 

That was a small miracle down here in Stonegut.

His bony hand ruffled my hair causing horrid, stringy blackness to cover my eyes. My coarse, unkempt hair became a horrible mess. Even a slight ruffling messed it up because my hair was nearly as long as I was tall. It was always a challenge to keep it modestly clean, but long hair was useful in many ways besides keeping warm!

“Hey!” I swatted at his hand, but he pulled it away too quickly.

“You’ll see, Eva,” he said with a smile. “Tomorrow.”

My smile turned into a grin. “Tonight.”

“Staying up?” he asked despite knowing the obvious answer. 

We veered off the main streets into an alley, but this one was far cleaner than the others. Nothing too obvious, but there were small signs that we knew to look for. Particular engravings on the corners, a setup of deliberate trash that obscured one wall, and of course, a few small traps.

Nothing truly dangerous because not all of our siblings could tell, but something that would annoy anyone curious and uninformed.

It was only when we got near the alley entrance that Helen popped up, or rather down, as she dropped from the ceiling to land as if a dozen feet barely affected her. She was barely a head taller than me, which still put her barely shorter than Jorge, but she was unlike us in one major way: she had meat.

Not just the meat we stole, of course! Helen wasn’t nine parts bone, but maybe seven parts instead. We as a family tried to keep her more than barely-fed because she was our courier. The one who risked a lot to take the goods and carry them home.

“Success,” she said in her quiet, stoic manner while holding the large slab of mystery meat. Just like me, blood and grime coated her due to the meat and the ducts, but a little dirt did absolutely nothing to prevent me from salivating at the food.

Jorge, Helen, and I entered the alley and carefully pried the trash away from the wall to reveal a stone chute. It was a bit tough climbing up the chute, even though the angle wasn’t that steep, because it was only small enough that children or teens could fit.

A sad, but perfect entrance to our home.

As soon as all of us climbed out of the chute, several pairs of eyes were peering at us from behind the bulky, reinforced door. Nothing strong enough to stop a guard, but definitely thick enough to buy anyone escaping a minute. 

The eyes ignored both me and Jorge before focusing on Helen. In the moment all those eyes locked onto the meat, the door flew open and a scurry of unkempt children in rags swarmed her.

“Helen!”

“Meat!”

“Food!”

They clamored as she, with her normal stoicism, held the meat out of their reach before making her way through the door with the hellions on her heels. No doubt she was going to the kitchen to cook it..

I was about to join her when Jorge gave me a side-hug and gestured with his head to follow him. “We have to report to Maric.”

Oh, right.

I followed Jorge as we went through the reinforced front door into a large living room filled with such a mess that it was hard to categorize what was what. Rags, sheets, blankets, tarps, and whatever other kind of large fabrics or leather we could get, no matter the condition, were everywhere. Any kind of stone furniture was a luxury, and wood was unheard of. 

Games of all kinds, be it knucklebones, shoddily carved dice, cards, boards, sticks, marbles, or dolls that could be scavenged were littered on top of everything else. This was the youngest of us’ life in a nutshell, where we lived, learned, played, and slept.

It was where I had spent the last… I wasn’t sure, four or five years of my life? I didn’t have many memories from before that simply because I was too young, and that’s when my dreams started.

Instead of here, Jorge led me to a room on the left corner, opened up the door to reveal a set of stairs circling around the room to lead up to the next floor. Every door was made of a lightweight white stone that was different from the dark grey of the buildings in Stonegut.

It was a brittle stone which offered little protection other than convenience or privacy, and was one of three doors in our home. The front door, the door to the second floor, and our treasure room.

Not that I’d seen the third door, but it was easy to hear in the dead of night above the living room.

This would also be the first time I was allowed upstairs.

I climbed behind Jorge, a bit of nervousness creeping up on me. The thrill and energy from before had settled, and instead now I was going to meet the oldest of our family, the head of the household, and the sole reason any of us were still alive.

“Come on,” ushered Jorge kindly. “It’ll be fine.”

I nodded in response and we entered the living room on the second floor. This, well, this was where all the teens lived. At least, that’s what I had assumed before now. Instead of the mess downstairs that we children lived in, this larger room was more organized. Furniture was aligned with the walls with cushions and sheets in much better condition with a large table dominating the center of the room. 

Tablets, papers, books, charcoal and many other tools of learning were stored on the table. I recognized many for when Jorge had taught us to read and write, and felt silly that I never wondered where the stuff had come from. Along the walls and under the table were stone crates full of other knick-knacks and tools.

The room was something between a lounge area and storage. The furniture and some sections of the floor definitely were setup for sleeping and comfort, but there were four rooms leading out of the living room, the stairway not counting.

Jorge didn’t pause as he went for the leftmost room, which was also the only one with a door.

“It’s not a treasure room?” I muttered under my breath too quietly for Jorge to hear as I followed along.

Jorge knocked twice in rapid succession then once a bit harder. “Maric?”

“Jorge? You can enter,” responded the airy voice of a man. As if the words he spoke were part of his breath, light and soft despite the steadiness of them. 

I chewed on my lip as Jorge opened the door to reveal Maric’s room, and the first thing I zeroed in on was the most comfortable bed I’d ever seen. A solid grey stone frame like everything else, but the mattress had fluff to it, as did the pillow! The sheets weren’t thin at all! 

“Hey, Maric,” said Jorge.

I blinked away from the sight of the most luxurious sleep-place I’d ever seen outside of my dreams to focus on Maric. He was… my eldest brother. Either nineteen or twenty years old, the oldest of us all, and also a towering figure both figuratively and literally.

His wispy body was nearly seven feet tall so that even when seated on a stool as a desk, he was still towering over me standing. His brown leather clothes were only slightly dirty and of, I think, an Artisan’s make. Passable enough that he wouldn’t be too out of place if he left Stonegut. 

“Jorge,” said Maric, his slate grey eyes regarding us warmly. “Evadne. I’m glad you both are well.”

“Just some dirt and blood, nothing that we can’t try and wash off,” said Jorge with a lighthearted chuckle. 

I gulped as I looked between the two. Jorge was somewhere between fourteen and fifteen, but everyone always seemed smaller in Maric’s presence. It was probably why we children didn’t see Maric that often.

“So it was a success?” asked Maric despite likely already knowing. 

“She managed to get in, steal, and get out to hand off the goods, then escape when chased,” claimed Jorge proudly. “I have no doubt she’ll qualify for useful skills or even a good class.”

Maric’s eyes, so flat and grey despite conveying so much kindness and warmth, crinkled in mirth. “Then it will be a good two days. Today for the meal, and tomorrow for your birthday, Evadne. Good work, you two.”

I puffed up my chest in pride, nervousness be darned. My first solo mission for my siblings, a bit of a risky move that I asked for since I’m on the cusp of young adulthood: age ten.

The age when our class system unlocks.

“Thanks, Maric,” said Jorge.

“Helen did the hard part,” I said.

Maric chuckled as he got up off his stool, rising to his full height, and went over to a stone crate on a dusty shelf. “So she always does, that girl. Such a gifted girl, but so stubborn. She’ll have her usual share, of course, but I believe you asked for a reward, Evadne?”

My throat felt a bit dry. I never had actually asked Jorge nor Maric for any reward for the mission, only offered to help out and if there was something I could do before my tenth birthday.

But I had talked. 

Talked my whole life, really, and lived with these two for just as long. We weren’t strangers, but we had eight other children younger than me in our home, and five older. I had no real reason to think anyone actually listened to what I said, or paid attention to me. At least, not until the last month or so when I began asking to help out.

Maric reached into the crate and gently pulled out a few different sized bowls, cups, all dark grey stone of course. To be anything else would already be more extravagant than I was worth, so when he pulled out the last item, I felt stones in my stomach.

A copper pot.

Even Jorge was taken aback while Maric smiled at our expressions and put everything back in the crate. “While I hope your first mission benefits you, Evadne, your ideas are far more valuable. Your dreams might be more than that, but neither I nor others will ever know if we do not try.”

Maric picked up the crate and handed it to me. It was a stone crate with stone and metal dishes in it, so it wasn’t something I could even lift. Yet, Maric smiled at me and my knees felt leaden.

“[I Carry Your Weight], [A Good Night’s Rest], [Homebound Strength], [Aura Of Comfort],” spoke Maric, his airy voice reverberating with the power of his skills. Every word said made me feel stronger, healthier, and as if I belonged. As if I were a person who was important.

When I, a soon to be ten-year-old, took a stone crate full of priceless gifts, it was heavy enough that it was something that I could carry. It was what just a few skills of my eldest brother, and our only T-1 classer, could do.

That I was worth four of his dozen skills made me feel far different than when I was worth four of that butcher lady’s skills because this wasn’t a T-0 classer. No, it was different because Jorge beside me was also almost glowing with comfort and strength.

Maric patted my shoulder. “You are appreciated, Evadne, and I look forward to what you think you can do. Find a spot you wish to claim, and you are welcome upstairs anytime now.”

Tears welled up as I wanted to give Maric a hug, but my hands were now full. “I don’t know what to say.”

Jorge smiled as Maric nodded. “There need not be something said at all times, Evadne, but words do have power all their own. You were always more mature than others, but for good or bad, success or failure, I only have one thing to say.”

I blinked the tears away as Maric leaned down and patted me on the head. “Welcome home.”

Jorge ushered me out as Maric watched us exit his room before gently closing the door. “Congrats, Eva.”

“I don’t know what to say. How did… I can’t even use it yet,” I complained about the stupidly expensive pot. “What spot do I even use?”

“Hmm, you could always take the other side of Helen’s room. It, at least, has a table,” offered Jorge. “She definitely wouldn’t mind.”

“If that’s okay?” 

He nodded and showed me over to another room that was mostly spartan except for a low stone table, three stone stools, and a corner absolutely full of animal carvings of different shades of stone as well as a copper knife. While a bit more common since it was a bladed tool, the fact that Helen also owned a metal tool made me ask.

“Does he give something to everyone older?” 

Jorge sighed, “I don’t know how Maric manages it, but yes. Usually it is something smaller unlike your pot. Between you and me, I’m not sure if he’s buying it or it’s a skill.”

I shuddered to think of the cooldown on a skill that could create copper. Were they common in T-1 or above? Was it days? Weeks? Longer? I was clueless about upper society, only knowing how it was down here in Stonegut. Even if Maric was buying them, something metal, even if it was just copper, was worth more than several of my siblings' lives, mine included.

It put it into comparison just how well off that butcher lady and her shop was, didn’t it? I didn’t have any guilt about stealing before and I definitely didn’t now.

I set my crate on the ground and began unpacking it onto the table opposite of what was, according to Jorge, Helen’s area. In total is was four small stone bowls, three stone cups of different sizes, and the small copper pot. 

All in all, I now had things I owned, things I didn’t have to share with the other children. “Do I sleep up here too?”

Jorge nodded. “Anywhere works, but yes.”

Some might say it wasn’t fair that the older siblings got out of the mess of the first floor, but it was just a fact of life. It wasn’t safe for children under ten, people without classes, to exist. It was only thanks to Maric’s class that we were able to grow up safe.

The rest of the night blurred together as Jorge and I went downstairs to mingle and eat with the rest of the family. Helen might not have had a cooking class, but she was a fair hand at meat soup for a thirteen-ish year old girl. Using some of the firecoals, a dusty black stone that burned when struck together, even the poor in Stonegut could afford to cook. 

After eating a solid meal, one bolstered by yet another of Maric’s skills, this one passive that affected anyone living in our home, I avoided the jabbering crowd of my younger siblings about my birthday. It was an exciting time, and it was all the other kids could talk about.

What would I be, what would I do, how skills would help us, and such.

I was a bit more informed since I had talked with our older siblings, and knew how it was going to work, at the start at least.

Hours later, I sat at my newly claimed desk as Helen sat on the floor behind me with her various carved animals. Copper knife in one hand, crude stone block in the other, and definitely skills at work, she carved slowly in silence.

Maric was still in his room doing… whatever my eldest brother did. Jorge was passed out in the living room, and my two other older siblings were out of the house, which was somewhat normal. Tommy was a daredevil who was just as likely to come home as he was to die without anyone knowing, and Bea was working.

So I waited, my thoughts racing about the potential of what I would do, about what I could do. It wasn’t as if the world messed over people permanently, but from what my siblings say, it’s a matter of risk and time. 

Starting over was close to death in some cases.

Minutes ticked by, each second feeling as anxiously grueling as the last, before a notification appeared in my mind. There was no sound, just words I couldn’t see anywhere but inside my mind, and a feeling of change.

Of the potential of change.

[Age restriction unlocked…]

[Loading system template…]

[Adhering world parameters…]

[Registering new user…]

[Reading past causality…]

[Calculating vectors…]

[Factoring achievements…]

[Unpacking series profiles…]

I knew many of these words, but had no context, even with my dreams, to understand at all. The only thing I knew was that, because I was now ten, the world considered me a person. That only now was I worth acknowledging.

After more and more strange notifications, finally, the words that haunted everyone finally appeared. 

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