My days are quite simple: wake up, have breakfast, tend to the fields, have lunch, tend to the fields, check for monsters, and finally eat dinner. What happens after dinner is freetime, which usually ranges from hunting, going straight to bed, or indulging in my hobbies.
But today, caught in the middle of lunch, there was a fairly large change. My neighbor, John, told me that he found traces of monsters in his fields. I went out into my fields, Sure enough, there are traces, fresh...
Me and John looked at each other with a look of bewilderment. We understood that if it's only our fields it would be manageable. But of course that's only if it's just our fields. I told John,
[ I'm going to get my rod, you tell the village elders. If ya go around, and we get some men together, this should be fairly easy. ]
John, as he was walking away, froze a bit watching something in the distance. Stressed and fidgety, he cuts almost unnaturally
[bastard!? that rods the only thing you have. when I feed you to the wolves I won't feel a thing!] He looks around with a fair amount of agitation. With a sudden change of tone he states.
[You know what, I better get going, you... should... sit tight and finish your lunch! Everything is going to be a walk in the park with a full belly.] With that John leaves to supposedly tell the elders.
I'm not necessarily sure what caused that outburst, but I will handle my end of the bargain. I head into my home to grab my rod. A AB-42 Blasting Rod, a fairly expensive magical weapon I bought for my hobbies. I am somewhat magically gifted although I have never been properly tested. It Allows me to use magical equipment without buying expensive mana storage. I use it for hunting, and it's designed for hunting in mind. Although not for traditional game, mainly monsters and whatnot. It's adjustable, almost completely silent, and at full power can gorge a meaty chunk out of most things. A fairly important weapon if I need to protect my home, and maybe the village. My fields will probably be damaged by this attack. I don't necessarily have many friends I can think of to support my burden. My mother and father died quite a while ago. My brother left God knows where to become an adventurer, the bastard. Maybe I'll finally become a full time hunter. Well thinking absent-mindedly I notice my still steaming lunch and am reminded of John's kind suggestion. I decided to sit down and enjoy one of the most favorite parts of my day. I was eating a portion of stew with bread, cheese, dried meats, and jam. After taking my time eating I wash my face and begin lazily wandering outside. I see a fairly unusual sight, many.. many... villagers out and about. Something you only really see during festival season. Seeing that I have my prized weapon, many of the villagers barge back into their homes to grab their own equipment, mostly bows, although they are grabbing as many arrows as they can carry. Quite a convenient thing, although instantly worrying. Village guards start shouting to head inside the village walls and into the palisade. Now I understand... we are in a fairly terrible position...
A Sergeant of the town guardsmen comes up to me
[Ken, you better be heading to the palisade soon or we will figure out how to put your name on an execution list.]
[Erm, Sargent Barken, I will do so shortly, I just need to grab a few things real quick, I didn't know the depth of the situation.]
He looks at me suspiciously, although before he said anything a guard comes up to him saying
[Sargent we need to hurry! lookouts say they are close!]
With that I went straight back into my house before anyone could criticize me.
I quickly take all my rations, food, water, and other valuables and put them into my cellar. My cellar is quite well made and most importantly hidden and fairly deep. My rummaging takes a bit of time. I stop halfway through after a loud scream. Determining that the scream is fairly far off I continue trying to stuff stuff into my cellar. Until I glanced out my backyard window and saw a massive hoard of monsters coming to the edge of my fields. I immediately drop the packet of herbs I have in my hand and immediately begin the process of hiding the cellar. Half the process is starting up basic runes, the other half can be done in the ladder well. These runes will ensure airflow and that the cellar will be hidden with some sort of alchemic complexity. I am honestly not specialized in these types of runes and had someone come in and etch them. Jumpstarting the runes I hop into
the cellar hoping that the startup process will finish before anything notices. The second part of the process is to insert a key into the main circuit, the key is made of mithril and is quite good at conducting magic. I take my blessing as paying for such an expensive system allows the runescript to finally start up into completion. As the insistent stomping above me starts to begin. I stay, completely still, senses on overdrive, trying to look for the slightest sign that someone knows I'm down here.
The footsteps keep on coming. And just keep on coming, and just keep on coming. I am fairly relaxed at this point, my arms are fairly cramped hanging onto this ladder. And I was just starting to feel that I'm in the clear when I started hearing a proper stomp more than a footstep. It started getting absurdly loud, I imagine a beast, no, a monster like no other. With a bit of a screech the lid to my cellar bulked a tiny bit. After I almost had a heart attack the runes flared up showing its almost vain attempts to repair such a thing. Causing me to immediately go down the ladder, and set up a small fortified position made from the furniture I have down here. I just aim my AB-45 at the entrance trying to find an excuse to fire it. Slowly... Surely... the movement calms down. I aim my gun at the entrance until sleep claims me.
-
There is an old theory that the Gods treat this world as a playground. That if they truly needed faith, why would they make such a terrible world. Is God incompetent?
If so, why don't we try and take the reins behind this terrible system. That old theory was tested time and time again before we finally noticed that there was nothing. This isn't a game, it was simply a natural function. Every system of reality had evolved and set to its function. To become a creature of pure magic, to take the reins of our systems, one must subvert their own systems, their own reality. Becoming something irrelevant and self-serving, something absolutely abhorrent. Magic itself is an antithesis of Reality. And Reality itself is malleable and fragile, such things can be easily abused. It has been abused throughout history. Ultimately, there is a very good reason the gods don’t change the world for their gain.
[ The Theory Behind Reality, Sage Helith ]
-
Waking up I feel incredibly hungry, this may be one of the rare times I missed dinner. Although of course cooking down here might attract monsters, so technically it's an acceptable sacrifice. I feel terrible body cramps as I fell asleep on a makeshift barricade, and of course, in a terrible position in general. Getting up and stretching I decide to have a cold breakfast of provisions. You never know if something is still up there. Thinking about it, I could have just eaten a cold meal yesterday. I guess I wasn't in the best state of mind.
After finishing my meal I go up the ladder and deactivate the runes. The runes are built to last quite a while, they are quite expensive so abandoning them will be painful. Peeking outside I have to come to terms with the fact that abandoning everything will be a tad painful. The fields are smashed, houses are broken, my own home doesn't have walls anymore. Noticing no real monster activity I retreat back into my safe space. I look at all the things in this dusty old cellar, the food and supplies roughly piled in a corner, the book-shelves with tons and tons of gold worth of investment, my hobbies and all their tools wasted for all their worth. I need to find a way to at least scavenge something. I head upstairs to try and find my bags, I have a few. Going into my bedroom I notice my closet has all its belongings spread out into the floor. Most things were missing but my pack was still there. Although torn open and tossed aside. Picking it up, I check for the most important thing attached to the bag. That being magical bags. Luckily 3 are still on, the herb bag, the beast bag, and the general bag. Although the general bag was rummaged through. This means the monsters that invaded knew how to figure out which bags which. A terrible sign of intelligence. The only force I can think of that would be that intelligent would be the demon king's army. We are near the border so I guess my village was the first on the chopping block. The bags that are missing are my money pouch and ration bag. Basically the entirety of my savings and a bag that made it so food remained fresh. I felt wronged, 10 years of my life, 10 years of life was in that single bag. I take a deep breath, then another, then maybe one more. I beat the shit out of the nearest object, the closet, making a large ruckus. I throw my bed as far as it can go (which is quite pitiful as it's a bed). I Storm back into my cellar slamming the hatch on my way down. I didn't take my pack and the bags with it... going back up, the awkwardness of the situation made me cool my head a little. Grabbing the bag I headed back into the cellar and to my workspace. I have quite a number of tools and doodads I have collected over the years although that's not the focus now. I take out my general sewing needles and thread. I pick up a few small scraps of leather and start trying to repair my bag. I sigh often as I try to focus and clear my mind, hard to do when what you're mending is a constant reminder of your frustration. Slowly... But surely... I got the simple task done. I felt a little bit refreshed, but soon I remembered my situation. I sat there stewing in my own pity for quite a while. Before I heard something, yelling? Grabbing my AB-45 I climbed the ladder upstairs. I see a zombie, an undead, fueled by some sort of weird magic. It mumbles loudly, enough to hear at least from my dinky torn down home.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
[ You... you... you... bastards... fight.... terribly.... bastards... too… many… ]
The zombie looked like a town guardsmen, a girl many people called the town pass around. Supposedly she slept her way to an officer's position. I think her name was Mary now that I think about it. She was fairly annoying toward me especially. She would constantly try to illegally confiscate my hunted game, and would ask for a ridiculous amount of money to do things... with her... She was at least decently confident from what I remember, a pity she is… now something else. I decided to try to get her attention. The newly risen undead are said to have strange properties. Getting into her view she stopped mumbling and fidgeting about and let out a blood curdling howl
[ ken... KEN YOU BETRAYING! BACKSTABBING! DESERTER!... CUn... ]
She starts spouting every insult her rotting brain can think of and starts to sprint wildly toward me. I rush to take aim and I fire, taking a massive chunk out of her right shoulder. Pushing her to the ground and making her a deflated bag. I feel relieved, but suddenly unnerved, she did call me a betrayer right, a deserter. Frustrated, I look at her and tell her.
[ you look terrible, my blasting rod wouldn't have changed anything but maybe a few seconds, maybe a few bodys... ]
I realize that I'm trying to tell off a corpse, and since that corpse was undead. I remembered that it was probably just simple resentment. She blamed me for her death the pathetic sod. I heard once that the newly risen dead is the saddest thing one can come across. Undead come from resentment, so when they first rise, their
body's aren't that rotten. Their faculties are still somewhat there so they remember a bit from when they were alive. The constant howling and jabbering of how things could have gone. Although that still makes me frustrated, they blamed me of all people. I wouldn't have done jack yet little miss Mary thinks that i could have saved the world. Pathetic... but really I don't have a good memory of Mary. So unless I'm wrong she might just be a terrible person.
Focusing all my frustration on Mary did wonders for my productivity. I stopped sitting around and now I really just grumbled when getting work done. I focused on trying to make use of the more stationary tools and heavy tools that will inevitably be abandoned. Although there really is only one stationary thing. The rest would just be too difficult to pack up. The alchemist machine, a large box of steel and runes meant to fundamentally change the aspects of how a thing functions, or in rare cases you can simply pop things out of thin air using pure magic. I mostly use it to make plants like seeds that can grow anywhere or more potent healing herbs that can more easily make high level potions. Currently I am trying to make the seeds for a few potent herbs: Lenthal Grass a supplement, Regith a fertilizer, and 3 mix tufts. With these three I can make a garden anywhere and be able to still remain relatively healthy. I'm probably not going to be able to eat bread for quite a while, or at least until the bread I take with me rots. I personally don't like the taste of lenthal. It's used in a lot of travel rations, military rations, and just many dry terrible things. It's ok on roasted or cured meat but there are better spices that exist. Lenthal is built to have absurd nutritional value making it a logistical wet dream. Your soldiers are guaranteed to be healthy eating a Lenthal biscuit. The only worry is actually overdosing on the various nutrients it provides. Thinking about it I also make Kenion seeds which are a flavorful root vegetable that makes a pretty good soup stock. The only problem with these magically altered and manufactured plants is that they suck out nutrition like it's nobody's business. Regith is a plant designed to put as much nutrition into the soil as possible from basically nothing. One crop of regith cut down and burned is capable of providing enough nutrients for the area to produce for at least 5 cycles. Although if you're working with magic, 5 cycles becomes fairly short. Maybe something to happen within about half-a-month or so. It's how I became the richest person in the village. Or.. at least how I was the richest person in the village. Anyways I look into my herb pouch to try and get rid of that thought.
I tear up looking into the pouch. I bought herbs to create a sweetener for my tea, a lovely thing to have after work. A luxury I just know is going to be gone for a long while. I will have bitter tea every morning or maybe no tea at all. I don’t have any recipes for a good tea plant. I create that sweetener, it has a short shelf life of a day or so. I brew some tea and decide to just sit there for a while, and think about what I should do. What should be done… I look at my bookshelf, quite a few of these are collectors items, nobles would kill me to have a few of these. Reading might put a bit of time between me confronting reality. You know I could just live here, in the skeleton of my home, in the basement. With that comforting thought I look at my shelf for something to read, a few collectors books catch my eye. I stored them to resell them at an auction event, apparently they are considered forbidden in a few countries. Really those plans don’t matter, let's just rip them open anyway. The first book 140 days of a Lady of the Plains, smut… I’m not in the mood for such… things… And if I remember right, this one is banned in a lot of countries. It might have some really terrible stuff in it. The second book, ahh some fine reading, Hell Economy, by Sage Helith. Helith is a Patron of one of the four gods of knowledge, particularly magic, and planes, and dimensions, and really just weird stuff. The forbidden tomes written by her usually talk about something most orthodox religions or particularly tyrannical states don’t want people to know. They are a common black market item and even if you are caught, unless you have actually practiced what was in the book, you would just have to burn the darn thing. So let's have a go, i am a professional collector so I keep my books in good order, this may be a good chance to actually read one of the things I have lying around.
-
Introduction to the Hell Economy
This book is a dedicated guide to the Hell Economy, in order to understand Hell one must know its Economy. There are 2 major currencies Blood and Emotions, Blood being the lifeforce of a dimension, and Emotions being the sins or virtues of a plain or dimension. Hells and Heavens are the same thing, parasites looking to increase their economic value by stealing from other dimensions. You may think to yourself that these practices are unsustainable, and you would be correct. Many Hells collapse into themselves, or their hierarchy collapses into anarchy, which leads to the collapse of their economy. So, why don’t they just use an Orichalcum standard, you say? They are fundamentally linked to these industries, they are fundamentally born to serve in these industries, they are slaves to their instincts and their economy. They are simply drones in the game of free will, and this can be abused to great effect. This book holds many guides on how one can abuse a hell, produce a factory of emotions, and become a Hell Baron. Hell Demons, or Angels if you're a weirdo who doesn't like hell as an aesthetic. Are the perfect workforce for any activity, want to dig a giant pit for no reason, why not summon legions of undying loyal servants to dig through stone with their bare hands. Or maybe claws if you don’t want to just watch them dig until their hands are paste. Many wonderful things can be done with such magics, the field of demonology, a specialization of dimensional magics. You might ask what's the difference between Hell Economy and an introduction to demonology, well demonology requires prerequisite knowledge in dimensional magic. In a hell economy you are abusing the economies of pre-generated hells instead of making a hell and ruling over it like an overlord. There are 3 copies of this book to limit the amount of overlords generated by this knowledge reaching the hands of weirdos and book collectors. 1 of demonology so have fun finding that if it isn’t burned by some inquisitor or something. I think I also printed 1-3 books on dimensional magic so if you really make that your goal. You are probably a real go-getter. For any demons reading this, understand that you are not a hell demon, and are just called demons because many races are racist, now onto the index.
[page 1, Hell Economy, Sage Helith]
-