After my 100 squats, I sit down on the edge of my bed and scroll through my skills while I recuperate. I click on, ‘telekinesis,’ mostly because I want the voice in my head to stop threatening me.
[CURRENTLY UNUSABLE WITHOUT GREAT HARM TO PID OWNER.
RAISE STRENGTH AND ENDURANCE TO RANK D AND ANIMA MANIPULATION TO RANK C TO UNLOCK SKILL
SURVIVE FOR 30 DAYS IN THE LANDS BEYOND
REWARDS
+35 DAYS OF LIFE, 2% MASTERY
DRINK THE HEART BLOOD OF ANY 10 MIASMA-TOUCHED CREATURES
5% TO MASTERY, 2% TO ALL STATS. ]
The second task was a bit...surprising, but it matched what the Voice was saying to me about consuming the blood of creatures touched by the anima-filled Miasma would allow our bodies to cohabitate better without one killing the other. Just thinking about it, however, and the first task worried me. So for every 30 days I live here, I get an additional 5 days of living? What kind of bullshit is that. By the end of the six months, I’ll have a little over a month before I have to come back?
With an A rank in all of your stats, you won’t have to worry about that any longer.
“Yeah, and how long would that take me?”
It matters not.
That 2% increase though...If I wanted to live a long and happy life, that might be the way to do it. Still, my stomach churned. I took a drink of water from my canteen to ease the nausea building up in my stomach, and opened up the section on, ‘Anima Manipulation.’
[DRINK THE HEART BLOOD OF 20 MIASMA-TOUCHED CREATURES
15%
Well, I suppose I could do both at the same time.
FILL OUT 10 BESTIARY ENTRIES 0/10
REWARDS:
25%
VISIT 10 NEW LOCATIONS IN THE LAND BEYOND 1/10
REWARDS:
25%
AT REACHING RANK E- UNLOCK
ANIMA BULLET]
Is that a spell, like Telekinesis? I’ll unlock it eventually if I wanted to live. I find the ‘track task,’ button — a check mark right under the advancement bar, and track the first and second tasks in the section.
“Bestiary,” and, “Locations,” were both subjects in the Encyclopedia tab on the PID. There were also, “ingredients,” “recipes,” “Skill Books Read,” “Items,” and, “Personal statistics.” Currently, “New Eden,” was the only thing in the “Locations,” tab under the, ‘Settlements,’ subheading. In the selection there was a ‘fame,’ and, ‘infamy,’ meter; something that measures how well known, and how feared I was. These numbers, of course, were at 0.
[NEW EDEN]
After the Goblin Incursion, and the Lich's Invasion of 2010 New Eden is the only city within the White Company's borders within the First Realm of the Land Beyond. No one knows who exactly built it, but it was occupied by the White Company nearly 200 years ago, and has served as its primary base for it's expeditions into the Land Beyond since. It's inhabited mainly by Contractees (Mercs) or ex-contractees. Most of the merchant class, and the maintenance staff, however, are native to the Land Beyond.
Every Double Full the Elves of the Great Barrier Woods pay New Eden a visit for the Elf Market.
I tracked the, “TAKE 100,000 STEPS,” task from Endurance, the “CARRY 32,000 POUNDS FROM THE SCRAPYARD TO NEW EDEN,’ task from Strength, as I could do both of these things passively, and the “DRINK 20 THE HEART BLOOD OF 20 MIASMA TOUCHED CREATURES,” as by finishing that, I would be able to finish the task for telekinesis as well. In, “Personableness,” I track both tasks available: “HAGGLE FOR 1000 TOTAL DOLLARS OFF ITEMS PURCHASED. 0/1000,” and, “HAGGLE FOR AN ADDITIONAL 1000 DOLLARS. 0/1000.” Each would grant me a 10% boost to improving the stat. After I have all of that sorted out, I head out with my empty bag to buy the things on the list.
Jack was stepping out of his room into the hall when I stepped out of mine. He wore his backpack strapped tightly to his back, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and his canteen, pistol, and knife on his belt.
“Oh, are you heading to a job?” He asked.
“No, I’m going to get some supplies first. How about you?”
“Accepted a job to bring ten pieces of venison to a butcher in town. Just way too excited about all this to stay cooped up.”
"Well, good luck.”
“Thanks, man.”
He stomped down the stairs humming a tune. He’s got a few screws loose, doesn’t he?
He is a fine specimen of what a warrior must be.
“How do you mean?”
A true warrior enjoys adventure for the sake of adventure. They look at the world with a child-like wonder.
Child-like is right.
I stepped down the stairs once I heard the door to the inn rattle shut.
“Heading out as well?” The man at the counter asks.
“Just getting some stuff,” I answered.
“Alright. Come in before 10 tonight.”
“What time is it now?”
“4:30 PM.”
Six hours is plenty of time. I step out of the inn and follow the road along the canal. The first stop would be a general store. A lot more people than I expected were walking around the town as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Several of them have slight….oddities. Strange colored hair, and protrusions on their heads that almost looked like burgeoning horns or antlers. Some had slightly pointed ears, while others had more hair on their bodies than they had any right to have. Each of them had WC emblazoned on their clothes somewhere plainly visible.
I found a general store a short walk away from the inn. According to the step counting task, it was a mere 503 steps away down the canal. I step into the glass doors. The wooden floors creak as I step in, and dust rises at my intrusion. An elderly woman sits at the counter, reading a book. Items of various sorts sit on the shelves that line the walls. The smell of heavy dust, oil, and a variety of other things sits in the air. She took a long drag on a cigarette and blew the trail of smoke out into the air before casting her warm gaze my way. She sets the book down, and smashes the head of the cigarette into an ashtray sat on her counter.
“Evening, ah, a newcomer? Want to get rid of those Freshie Greens? We got a good selection of clothes over there.”
She motions to a group of clothes racks on the far side of the store.
“Nah, looking for tools and other stuff.”
“Hm? Well, tools are over on this wall by the counter.” She said. “Feel free to look.”
I pick up one of the hand baskets by the door walk over to the counter she mentioned, and begin to peruse.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Socket wrench set.”
“Ah, see that small red box?”
“This one here?”
“Yeah, that has all the standard sizes.”
I pick it up and place it in the basket.
“So where are you staying?”
“The Cat and the Fiddle.”
“Ahh, old Oscar’s place. He’s a bit of a grouch. Don’t get on his bad side.”
Aha. Too late for that.
“Does he work for the White Company as well?”
I pick a hacksaw off the wall and set it in the basket.
“No. Not everyone in town is a merc. You can recognize a White Company contractee at once by the, ‘WC’ symbol you’re all required to wear on all of your clothes.”
I pick a folding saw off the wall and set it inside my basket.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Where do they all come from?”
“Ex-mercs. Some from other mercenary companies. Some were born here in the Land Beyond.”
“Born here?”
“Oh yeah, there is a...or rather, was a pretty sizable native human population about 500 miles north of here.”
“Really? Why are they here then and not in their town?”
“Ah, back in...oh, 2006 the Vatican sent a priest that-a way to find some artifact or another left behind by the Knight Templars — from whom most of the native humans in the North Territories were descended. The Priest vanished and was presumed dead. But in 2010 he came back at the front of an army of undead.“
“Undead, you really expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t know why you’re having a hard time with it. To get here you must have stepped through a portal; that alone should put some cracks in that skepticism.”
I drop the subject.
“So these people here are all refugees is what you’re getting at? From the north?”
“No. Not just from the north. To the East, there was a sizable population of current and ex-White Company employees, their families, and descendants. At around the same time as the undead attack to the north, there was an influx of Goblins that began to attack those villages and towns to the east.”
“How many people in total?”
“A couple thousand. We live far on the other side of town, though, within the residential quarters. We take care of the more mundane tasks in town; the building, the shop upkeep, and the like.” She sighed, “This is a human city — as when representatives of large corporations come to hire people, they’re often off-put by nonhumans, but there are other peoples as well that occasionally visit.”
I pick a crowbar off the wall and set it in the basket.
“Other peoples, what do you mean?”
“Elves, halflings., gnomes, dwarves, fairies, and many others. This is where they retreated once humanity came into control of Midgard.”
I would have had a hard time believing such words if it weren’t for what I had gone through that day.
“Midgard?”
“Ah, it’s from Norse mythology. It’s what most people call, ‘the real world,’ when you’ve been here long enough.”
Midgard is a dreary place. You should stay here.
“So...elves, huh? I’m having a hard time believing it.”
“They’re actual elves. Like in Lord of the Rings. Some people figure that Tolkien must have come here at one point in his life because they’re a pretty close match.”
“How can I meet one?”
She thinks for a moment; tapping her chin with her finger.
“Ah, I know…” She looks at a calendar hung on the wall behind her, and points to a date; August 1st. She taps the square with her finger. “August 1st, the Elf Market will be in town. You’ll be able to meet some.”
“Elf Market?”
“Yes. It’s really fun, you should go.”
“I’ll try.”
“Fairies usually come to accompany them, so you’ll see both. Dwarven merchants come at the end of every month, so they’ll be here next week. Halflings are kind of...isolated, but you might find a village out there. Fairies...well, unless it’s something like the Elf Market, you don’t want to interact with them. More trouble than they’re worth.”
I pull a roll of rope down and set it in the basket, a small pouch of tent stakes, and a rubber mallet. I find a pickax that was able to
“Do you guys sell any electric stoves?”
“Yes, they're over there with the cooking supplies. Want to leave that here? I’ll start scanning them.”
I set them down on the counter.
“Oh ho, these are some pretty clever items.” The old woman quipped.
“What do you mean?”
“With the hacksaw, socket wrench, and crowbar, you’ll be able to dismantle anything made of metal. With the pick, you’ll be able to take mineral samples from stones. Is a tarp on your list? With the rest of these things, if so, you can make a shelter anywhere you might have to camp.”
Huh. I suppose it wasn’t just a random hodgepodge of items. I got the pots and pans from the same place I got the electric stove. I check the list.
“Where can I get a compass and a draw pouch.”
“I have both of these here behind the counter.” The woman answered as she pulled them from the shelves full of items behind her.
I bring the rest of my items up to the counter. She rang everything up, and I set my bag on the counter.
“That’ll be...1500 dollars.”
“1500? What’s with the prices here?”
“Shortages of nearly everything. Do you know how few items come to New Eden?”
“Still. 1500 items for things you can get at Walmart for 200?”
“What do you want me to do, huh? Go bankrupt. This is the bare minimum I can charge. I’m being nice because you’re new.”
“Okay...how about 1300?”
“1475, not a penny less.”
“1400?”
“1450.”
“Alright, fine.”
Hobby. Remember the letter. Find something that can become your hobby.
Eh? I really don’t want to.
Oh, that thing looks interesting. Perhaps I’ll grab it from over here.
Fucking fine.
“By the way, what’s a cheap hobby to get into?”
“Cheap hobby huh? Whittling, perhaps? We have some knives available...here.”
She reaches under the counter to pull out a cloth rolled. She opens it to reveal several short, curved knives.
“How much.”
“50 dollars.”
So in the end, I’ll pay 1500 regardless, huh?
“Fine.”
She passes me the strange button, and I press my thumb to it. A sharp painful stab a moment later, and I’m sucking on my thumb while I back up my goods. I put the drawstring pouch and compass in my pocket, and somehow manage to fit everything in my bag, save for the electric stove which I carry under my armpit.
“Come again.” The old woman cheerily calls, “And any miscellaneous things you might have, I’ll happily buy from you in the future!”
I walk the distance back to the inn. Oscar eyes me as I make my way up the stairs, and store everything in my room. I find an electric outlet just behind the desk, so I set the stove and cooking supplies up there. For the rest, I either lean against the wall or sit on the shelves. None of the items I got at the shop, save for the item pouch and the compass registered as, ‘items,’ in the encyclopedia. Both had the tags of, ‘common,’ and, ‘adventuring items.’ Looking further into it, apparently, only items created in, or native to the Land Beyond, and were owned by me would register. There was a small bit of dopamine released when I saw the two squares light up like that. Filling this thing out could get addicting...
I head down again, to look for a weapon shop. I find a stall on the other side of the canal from the general store, about 622 steps from the inn, according to the PID. It’s a small stall, embedded into the wall with a canvas canopy to block out the sun. A young man works there. He doesn’t wear WC clothes, so I assume he’s a local instead of a mercenary. Weapons of all kinds sit on shelves and on the table behind him. Maces, morningstars, clubs, swords, daggers, spears, and war hammers.
“Hello! Looking to buy anything?” The man asks.
“A sword. Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something that’s sharp and will work.”
The man thinks for a moment.
“I think I got just the thing.”
He reaches into a crate on the ground by the other swords and pulls out a sword about as long as my arm from my shoulder to my wrist, sheathed in a cheap leather sheathe. I pull it a little out; the metal is almost black and feels more like the metal of a horseshoe. I run my finger along its edge, and hiss and pull back. It’s sharp, at least.
“How much?”
“Hm...500 dollars.”
“Can you do 450?”
“I can do 500 dollars.”
I clicked my tongue and bought the sword, hooking it into my belt on my left-hand side.
“Where’s the nearest bookstore?” I asked as I adjusted the sword to my hip.
“Oh, there’s one right over there.” The man pointed to a storefront glistening with glass.
The windows were large and elaborately curved. The light was blocked from entering due to heavy violet drapes hung over them.
“Thank you.”
According to the PID, it was another 125 steps from the stall.
“Bookwyrm’s Hoard.” Was the name of the shop. I pushed open the door and stepped in.
A young woman worked here. She, like the stall owner, didn’t wear WC clothes. Instead, she wore a long-sleeved, purple shirt, and black pants. Her black hair was tied up in a ponytail. The tie had dark black and violet feathers coming off of it that looked almost natural to her feathery hair, and an aura of wisdom encompassed her. Her eyes shined with a barely contained lilac light. At that moment, I thought I had found the most beautiful woman in the world. Around her almost lilac eyes, there was a strange pattern, that almost mirrored black scales.
Bookshelves lined the walls; stretching from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Four shelves sat evenly spaced across in the middle, and my steps cast small echoes on the gray stone floors that quickly died down when colliding against the violet drapes. A single shaft of sunlight snuck in through the glass of the door, casting a long pillar of light that cut through the darkness gathered on the floor. Strings of orbs of orange lights hung down from the rafters that held up the second floor of the building, and everything was kept immaculately clean. Not a single mote of dust could be seen dancing in the air. The smell of lavender hung in the air.
“Hello there! What are you looking for?”
The woman at the counter said in a cheery tone.
“Uh...hi.” I manage to sputter out, “I’m...I’m looking for...foraging book.”
“Ah! You’ll find Basic Foraging over there, among the other Basic Skillbooks. It’s a white book with a green plant on the front, somewhere in the middle of the shelf…”
I follow her instructions to the shelf the third shelf of four in the middle of the room. Other basic skill books like fishing, forging, hunting, tracking, and trap-making line this shelf. I glance at some of the others: basic swordsmanship was one of the books on the shelf in front of it, and I remember the words written in the letter and avoid it. I find, “Foraging in the Realms Beyond,” book, and make my way to the counter before setting it down in front of this beautiful woman.
“Is that it for you?”
I nod. Looking her in the eyes was painful.
“15,000 dollars.” She said, with a wry grin on her face.
“O...okay.”
I use the machine and walk out with my head down out of the store.
“Please come back!” The woman said.
“Y-yeah.”
Never in my life had I ever had trouble speaking to women. Why now?
It is understandable. She is of my kin after all. In the presence of absolute power and absolute beauty, losing one’s ability to speak is a given.
“What does that even mean?”
You’ll come to learn.
I walk the distance back to the inn, lean my sword by my rifle, and set the skill book on my bed. If this book acts like the last, then it’ll take me a long while to get through, and I’ll be in a trance the whole time, and I’ll be completely drained, so I decided to get something to eat, and I head back downstairs after locking my room.
“What’s a good place to eat?” I ask Oscar, the man at the counter.
“We serve stews here.” The man said, “Some folks say it’s the best in town.”
I was never a picky eater.
“What kind you got?”
“Well all kinds, there’s menus at the table there.” He points to the small bar area. “Personally I like the potato stew in a bread bowl.”
“Then I’ll have that.”
“Thumb.”
He brings out the button.
“How much is it?”
“150 dollars.”
I wince as the button bites.
“HEY, WE GOT ANOTHER BREAD BOWL STEW.” Oscar leaned back and yelled into a door hidden by shelves lining the wall.
“DAMMIT OSCAR, STOP YELLING.”
“YOU’RE DEAF, OLD MAN.”
“I’M NOT OLD, YOU’RE OLD.”
“Go take a seat, that bastard bring it out when it’s done,” Oscar said.
I find a seat near a window. A thick layer of dust blotted out the setting sun. There were a few other patrons in there with me; sitting alone, mostly. I searched through the other tasks for other stats and skills while I waited.
In Perception, I had to find 150 rare materials to raise the mastery bar by 25% and log 150 types of plant species in the encyclopedia to increase Perception mastery by 50%.
With pistols and rifles I had to shoot 1000 bullets from each for 100% mastery, in Brawling I had to kill 15 enemies without a weapon for a 75% increase in mastery. Scavenging I had to dismantle 100 items for a 33% increase in mastery and sell 100 scrap items for a 25% mastery to scavenging, and a 10% mastery to Personabnless. Should I focus on all of them? No, I don’t think it’d be possible. I suppose for combat for now I’ll focus on swords and pistols. I track the 1000 bullets from pistols and dismantle 100 items from Scavenging.
A man that looked incredibly like Oscar, walked out of the kitchen door and looked around the room until he focused on me.
“You ordered the stew bowl?”
“I did, and?”
“What’s with the attitude, boy? Just saying your food’s ready. Or do you not want it? I’m fine with throwing it in the trash.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
He brings a tin plate with a bread bowl sitting on it to my table. A spoon sits beside it.
“Don’t be an asshole, kid.” The Oscar lookalike says, “It won’t get you anywhere here.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The man scoffs and walks away, and I get a notification on my PID that my infamy in New Eden rose by 1. Who cares if I’m hated if I’m rich? I dip the spoon in the stew and put it into my mouth.
Is it any good? The voice asks me.
“It’s...it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” I say as I dip the spoon in again.
Savory, creamy...there aren’t words enough to describe the stew. The bread was soft and buttery and complimented the stew perfectly.
...I want some.
“You are a disembodied voice. You can’t have any.’
Ah. Death is so cruel.
After finishing up the stew, I tried to apologize to the cook, but he wouldn’t believe what I said. I sighed and resigned myself to the fate of forever being hated by the mastermind who made that stew and headed upstairs.
Once in, I took my clothes off and sat on the edge of my bed to read the skill book. Images of various edible and medicinal plants; flowering plants, mushrooms, types of grasses; flash through my mind, and before I know it six hours had passed and every single bit of energy I had. I barely had enough energy to wrap the blanket around me before I slipped into a dream of plants, and beautiful ravens with violet light shining off their wings.