Chapter 50: Dark Deeds before Breakfast

Just as Bonny had requested, I asked Jellybee to wake her up to the smell of coffee.

Granted, it was the smell of burning coffee.

In our defense, though, not one of us had a lick of real barista related Skills. There was a jar of roasted whole beans stored downstairs, but I had no idea what to do with them. The only way I knew how to make a proper brew was by dumping dusty Folger’s into a machine filter and sending up a quick prayer. While that had given me a pretty good track record in the past, it was a method I could no longer employ.

But by golly, we had almost figured out how to make coffee. No one could say we hadn’t tried!

Despite the offensive aroma, Bonny descended the stairs looking somewhat less murderous than she had a few hours ago.

I spoke quickly to my employer as she entered fully into the Merriweather Dungeon, “Before you say anything, I take full responsibility for Jellybee’s inexperience. We admittedly don’t know how to make a cup of Joe. That said, none of us had anything to do with the worms. Or the new cat–oh, watch your step.”

“What? Joe?” Bonny muttered in confusion before she narrowly avoided tripping over the latest addition to the family, who was stretched out across the bottom step like an elongated, misplaced body pillow. “What the-? Another cat, Ethel? Really? This has to stop.”

“As I was saying: not my fault. Blame Tiptap. This one showed up all on her own after Tiptap leveled up. We’re still trying to decide on the name. In other news, Spinemess is making breakfast and I also leveled up!”

Spinemess returned from the pantry carrying a few ingredients. “Good morning, Miss Kettleflar. Isn’t she a cutie?” Spinemess dumped the ingredients into the Neverwatch Pot.

“Morning, Spinemess. It smells good,” Bonny replied. She bent down to inspect the creature, hands on her knees. The cat rolled over like a fuzzy hotdog and meowed in greeting. Bonny smirked, then frowned. Her expression turned thoughtful. “Another copy? It looks like…”

“Like the porch light's on, but no one's home? Yeah, she ain’t exactly the sharpest spoon in the drawer.”

As if to prove my point, the cat yelped in surprise as her bottom half rolled off the step.

Bonny laughed. “Yes, that too. No, I was about to say that it looks like Tiptap is using a Control Copy Skill. The duplicates never have as much detail as the original. I have a Skill just like that. But how did Tiptap…” The witch groaned and rubbed the bridge of her brow. “Of course. My Dust Bunnies. Because it is my Skill. She must have learned it from me.”

“Can we keep her?” I asked. “Spinemess and Jellybee are fond of her.”

Spinemess discretely gave me a thumbs up without turning away from their work. The dryad was stirring something inside the Neverwatch Pot. I had left the task of breakfast entirely up to them while Jellybee helped Jimbo-no clear the rubble downstairs.

“It’s not my choice. She’s a part of Tiptap. She wouldn’t be able to leave even if she wanted to. So yes, she can stay.”

I looked down at the other cat that had taken residence on my lap. “No offense, Tiptap. But this is all your fault.”

Tiptap happily purred back without moving. Which was completely and utterly unfair.

Bonny stood up straight with a distinctly pained groan. I distinctly heard her back pop.“Oof. Please tell me there’s at least some tea?”

I didn’t realize my Aura could be so effective against one so young. Was she malnourished? Did she need to drink more milk? Then I remembered what Jimbo-no had said about mages and how their bodies didn’t accumulate as much Mana. It appeared that having a lot of magical firepower could come at the cost of becoming a glass cannon.

I wondered what would happen to me if I held onto all my Mana instead of spending it. Or if I never stored any Mana? Would my Core break more easily? Could I intentionally strengthen it? Either way, I figured it didn’t make much of a difference. I had no real body or bones to speak of.

Still, getting our hands on a milking cow might not be such a bad idea. The witch girl could use more calcium.

“Sorry, Miss, no tea yet. We’ve only got one kettle and one fireplace. I’ll boil some water next,” Spinemess replied from their standing post at the hearth, right beside my Core. “Have a seat, Miss. It’s about done.”

Part of me also felt bad for not providing Bonny adequate caffeine to start the day. Lord knows I needed it most mornings to get me going. Though that was mostly for other ‘digestive’ reasons. Spinemess made a good point: there was only so much we could do over a single open flame, even with undead servants. Especially if I wanted to Pyreplace Simmer at the same time. I made a mental note to look into stove recipes later. Three homemade meals a day would cut into my Crafting budget.

Bonny, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she seemed to brighten up at the thought of food. “Will you join me for breakfast, Ethel?”

“Can’t.” I motioned with both hands to the cat. “Stuck.”

“Ah. I see. Do you need me to save you?”

“No…” I said. “I’ve got this.”

With immense willpower and effort, I ended my Soul Stroll Skill.

Tiptap dropped a couple inches onto my chair. She let out a surprised, “Merp!” Then, clearly offended, she jumped off the chair and trotted away.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I reactivated my Skill to sit at the table.

“The dark deed is done,” I said solemnly.

“Very impressive,” Bonny replied as she took a seat across from me.

“But at what cost?”

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you eventually.”

I watched as Tiptap bonked into the backdoor. “You’re probably right.”

Spinemess served up a simple nettle soup, filled with bits of barley and rye. Dried sausage and fatty bacon–a real luxury for pastoral folks in a world without megalithic grocery stores–had been crumbled on top as a way to say thank you for saving our butts.

“Thank you kindly, Spinemess. This more than makes up for the coffee. This is wonderful,” she smiled pleasantly.

I raised an eyebrow at that reaction. I had been expecting gratitude, but not to that extent. It didn’t seem that fancy. The primary seasoning was salt. There hadn’t been even a dash of pepper.

I checked myself on the privileges that I had casually taken for granted in a past life. Contrary to popular opinion back home, breakfast hadn’t always been the most important meal of the day. For most of human history, meals were limited by manpower and lighting. Most households had not been equipped to do much cooking in the wee hours before the sun rose. Even upper class folks would often settle for a bowl of porridge, since it was decently filling and easy to make. It wasn’t until power grids and boxed cereal came along that companies started pushing the message to consume dessert and sugar for breakfast.

“You’re welcome, Miss Kettleflar. I’ll get that tea going,” Spinemess said. They responded with a slightly higher inflection. Was that a hint of pride?

Bonny ate quietly. With only minor harassment from Tiptap trying to dip a paw in her soup.

Soon enough the kettle was whistling and Bonny looked far more alive.

“Actually, I agree,” Bonny said. “Upgrading your Mana Capacity is normally a smart move, but having a lot of Mana can be like lighting a beacon. I want this Dungeon to stay on the down-low until Brill and I can figure something out. Especially after last night. Upgrade your Mana Renewal again, but don’t select any other abilities yet.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I be leveling up as quick as possible?”

“Once again, normally yes. But I don’t have that much time this morning to analyze all the options. We want to be careful when choosing your abilities.” She took a sip from her cup. She leaned forward and spoke in a hushed whisper, “Don’t tell Jellybee, but Spinemess makes much better tea.”

I made a motion of zipping my lips. “My lips are sealed,” I said quietly.

“I actually had hoped you would have had more time to level up all your Skills before your Core gained another level. But unfortunately, here we are," Bonny said.

“And why is that?” I asked. I was genuinely curious. And anxious about screwing up. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t have a choice about being invaded.”

“You’re fine. You didn’t know. It’s common sense for anyone with System access to grind out their Skills. Well, common enough sense. Every person is taught at a young age to try to get their Skills as high as possible before they advance, since doing so opens up more pathways. Once you make a choice, you can’t change it. There’s no take-backs. You can always gain new abilities as you level up, but each level requires progressively more experience. It’s best to maximize the Skills you have to increase the likelihood of the System offering better upgrades or Skill mergers.”

No do-overs? That sounded like another design flaw. It sounded worse than choosing a college degree. There wasn’t just an opportunity cost of money and time, but also levels? Taking a career shift must be a nightmare. I shivered at the idea of having to fight monsters to progress through nursing school.

“That must lead to a lot of regrets,” I said.

“It does,” Bonny said softly. “Especially when you know that you might get stuck with your Skillset forever.” She stared at Spinemess as she said that. They were distracted, entertaining the felines by playfully wiggling sticks all about.

“That’s dumb,” I said. “What kind of idiot designed it to be that way?”

Bonny chuckled. “System scholars speculate that it’s a balance check. Which is another whole debate we don’t have time for right now… I recommend waiting to level up until after we summon the Domovoy. There’s a chance that the Kikimora Minion option might get offered again, but you never know. Hopefully we won’t need it. On the other hand, we know that Mana upgrades will happen at every odd level for you, so I’m one hundred percent confident in this decision. You can always increase your Mana Capacity later.”

“You betcha.” I said.

I closed all the new notifications and menus that popped up. I didn’t want to be tempted.

It was minuscule and barely perceptible, but I already felt a slight shift in the Mana that my Core began to passively absorb. I had an inkling that the Mana numbers displayed on my character screen weren’t completely accurate. I suspected there might be some hidden decimal values, but I wasn’t going to complain about the convenience of rounded whole numbers.

“Are you sure you want to start with a Domovoy?” I asked. “We could start small. I know what a plush golem is. I could create a few more of those instead.”

Bonny’s face whitened.

“One that isn’t a goose!” I added. “Or a bear!”

She shook her head. “We need to explore all our options. While Lucie was a force to be reckoned with, I doubt a bunch of unnamed and low level plushies would have stood a chance against those Orphworms from last night.”

"What do you mean? We kicked their asses!”

“Ethel, you almost died.”

“Psh! Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” I waved my hand dismissively. “That last one just happened to get the jump on me."

Bonny briefly leaned to the side and rested a hand upon her cheek. Her brow crinkled in confusion. “Horseshoes and what?” She shook her head and sat up straight. "Ethel, in the grand scheme of things, those Orphworms were small fry. They should have never gotten the jump on you in the first place. You still needed my assistance. But I am not a Skilled combatant, while you are a Dungeon. I need to be able to trust that you can handle a few weaklings while I’m asleep or running errands. Even if Brill and I manage to negotiate with the Ossarchy, it's only a matter of time before other eyes take note."

I huffed. This was all so confusing. I needed to grow quickly, but also keep in mind that all my choices were permanent. I needed to stay under the radar, but I also needed to expand. And I needed to fight off invaders to level up, while also not putting the home in danger.

I almost missed the simpler days when my greatest challenge was resetting the clock on the VCR. Almost.

Feeling overwhelmed, I tactfully changed the subject. "Funny you should say that... I think there might be another Dungeon nearby.”

Her eyes grew wide. She stood up, knocking over the chair she had been sitting in. "WHAT? Where?”

"Relax! It's inside the mountain, but it hasn't noticed me yet. Probably. I've been sneaky. But it's a Dungeon, alright.”

“How far? Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know where it is. I’m trying to find it. How bad could it be? So far the only crime it’s committed is being a noisy neighbor.”

“Bad,” Bonny said. “Very bad if it takes an interest in Poppymill. Are Jimbo-no and Jellybee done clearing a path?”

“Just about.”

“Okay, good,” she replied. She took a deep breath. “Meet me downstairs. Let’s go make a monster.”