Chapter 3: A Week of Work

Crimson raised his head off the pillow and blinked blearily as he tumbled out of bed. It was a trick he'd learned his second day working for Evans to help him wake up in the morning. The fact that he woke up earlier than everyone else didn't help the fact that it was hard to get up, even being a morning person had its limits, but he wanted time to practice running with no one else around.

After hauling himself off the wooden floor he stumbled over to the basin of cold water in the room and dunked his head into it. Just splashing the water on his face hadn't done enough to help the first time he'd tried, but sticking his whole head in the basin had worked - no need to stop doing it.

Crimson shook his head and breathed out the low gasps of someone exposed to a copious amount of cold water as it streamed down his face and dripped off the tip of his chin.

Looking up into the mirror he reviewed the face he still hadn't gotten used to. His face - like the rest of his body - was more bony and narrow. His hair color had changed to an unnaturally dark black and was cut fairly short; his eyes had changed to be slanted and silver in color. While he wasn't happy with his new appearance, for the most part, he did like his eyes. They weren't JUST silver, but almost like mercury. The color shifted and moved as he stared down his own eyes and it was far too bright to be a simple silver.

Well, it didn't change the fact that his own appearance unnerved him. Seeing someone else staring back gave him an unpleasant feeling that ran from the base of his skull to the pit of his stomach, but over the past few days it had gotten more tolerable. He hadn't even been able to like his eyes until yesterday. It may have been little by little, but he was learning to accept the changes.

Crimson broke eye contact with himself and quickly changed into his clothes and yanked on his shoes.

Moving quietly, he slipped down the stairs in the dark - the sun wouldn't show any sign of rising for another hour - and out the front door while making as little noise as possible. It had taken a bit of practice, but he'd learned where all the loud floor boards were and he could avoid them in the dark. He felt quite proud of himself for that one too.

Once outside, standing in the pre-dawn light Crimson took a good look around and then began walking toward the tree line. Once he was a short distance away he stopped and began stretching.

While he'd never done running back home, he knew enough from 'health class' -done via a laptop- that it was important to warm up his muscles to avoid damaging them. It was actually nice to put into practice some of the 'useless' knowledge he'd gained from that 'class.'

To finish his stretching he touched his toes for a few seconds. That done, he began to walk parallel to the tree line, then started speed walking, then bumped it up to a jog. As he bounced along he remembered the first morning he'd tried running.

He hadn't been able to get up early enough the first morning and had to deal with the laughing peanut gallery when he'd tried to learn how to jog for the first time. He'd ended up with a mouthful of dirt on several occasions and had to deal with peals of raucous laughter assaulting his ears. It had made his ears burn red and it had taken quite a force of will to keep his expression neutral even as he spat out dirt.

Since that day, he'd learned his lesson and had been getting up before everyone else to practice. Well, it hadn't been that long ago, it was only the fourth morning after all.

Crimson picked up the pace even more and started to run. He'd finally figured out some interesting things: the angle of his foot hitting the ground, how hard he pushed off, how he angled his body, how he breathed, and even where he looked all affected running. It had been quite the revelation for him, and since then he'd focused a lot on the little things that helped things move smoothly.

It was something he'd brought to his other chores. He'd learned how to use the little things - sub-conscious things - to help him do better work. It had helped him as he pulled weeds and learned better ways to position himself to allow him to use leverage, it had helped him as he chopped wood as he learned the best ways to transfer the force of the axe onto the log and even how to aim, and it had helped him as he learned that the way he breathed could even help warm his body as he worked on the inventory in the cold storage room.

The whole experience had given him a new appreciation for how difficult doing ANYTHING was, and it taught him that there was always a better way to do things - even the little things.

Crimson was forced to slow down to a jog once more as the skill he was focusing on at the moment reared its ugly head: pacing oneself. It was something he'd learned was a thing once he'd been able to maintain a pace without tripping, and he'd had a hard time getting a feel for his own pace, but he'd been getting better.

As the sun began to truly rise Crimson slowed to a stop breathing deeply and heavily while trying to do his best to control it. That was one other thing that had made him appreciate the small things a lot: the fact that he couldn't do them. He'd never exerted himself extremely in the past, so he'd never had to learn how to control his breathing. Being able to now lent a new level of appreciation in him for his own body.

Crimson began to head back to the house; he'd need to rinse the sweat off before Symia spotted him - he didn't need yet another tongue lashing from her. She was on a constant hair-trigger for telling him off, but she never seemed to have ill intentions behind it - it was just her natural tendency. The fact that he wasn't the only target helped reinforce that fact.

Crimson head around the back of the house to the well. He drew the water, took off his shirt, and poured the frigid cold water over the top of his head. It rolled down his body and cooled off his exertion-heated skin. As he shook himself like a wet dog, gasping from the cold, Evans came outside with a huge yawn.

"Yup already kid? Your Intelligence must be a 2 or less for that."

Crimson shrugged. It couldn't be helped if Evans considered him crazy, but his time running had become important to him. It was almost self-affirmation to him - a reminder that his body was whole.

The fact that it would also benefit his health was just an afterthought that allowed him to justify the practice.

Crimson awkwardly worked his shirt over his still-wet chest and and glanced over at Evans, "What will we be doing today?"

Evans let out another massive yawn and spoke while scratching his belly, "Well, I figured I couldn't say "no" anymore. I'll be sending you and Billy to clear out some slimes in the south-west part of the farm."

Crimson had to glance away from Evans for a quick second to smother his grin. He'd been asking for the chance to go slime hunting ever since his first morning.

Maintaining a pleasantly neutral expression he turned back to Evans and responded casually, "Sure, I'd like that."

Evans looked at him in amusement, "If you want to hide your emotions you need to hide it in more places than your face. You're practically radiating excitement."

A subtle fist pump wasn't "radiating" excitement.

"Pay more attention to your body language. Your breathing has sped up, you've started to lean forward like you're anticipating something, and you've shifted your weight forward to move quickly."

Crimson self-evaluated for a moment before he looked at Evans quizzically, "Okay, I'll give it to you: I am doing that. Thank you for pointing it out, but how did you know to look for all that?"

Evans proudly announced, "I've spent a long time watching my wife! She isn't always the best at expressing her emotions or when I've done something wrong, so I've had to work hard to figure it out."

Crimson looked behind Evans and tried to subtly warn him, but it was too late - the wife in question descended.

"Ohh? Evans, whatever are you talking about?"

Evans froze with a rigid smile on his face as he slowly turned around, "I was bragging about my wonderful wife."

Symia let out a wonderfully bright smile that contrasted nicely with the hands on her hips and Evans' cowering figure.

"Oh? Was that all it was? That makes me so happy! I could have sworn that my husband made it sound like I was a poor wife who never talked to him!"

Evans' started laughing nervously and Crimson noticed that sweat had started to bead up on his forehead.

"Nothing of the sort dear! You are the best, most beautiful, most wonderful wife in the world! No one else can compare to you!"

Symia seemed truly happy as she responded, "Thank you dear! I'll forget you what you said, but you're helping with house work today."

Evans breathed out a mighty sigh of relief as she went back inside.

"She let me off easy," he glanced at Crimson,"Never hesitate when it comes to compliments - just make sure that they're the truth."

A part of Crimson wondered, was he staring at his own future? Evans was certainly happy, but there appeared to be a hidden cost there. Well, he was only fifteen, and he wouldn't get married the second he became a "legal adult" in this world at sixteen. He'd worry about it all later - if the time ever became "right."

"Lesson learned."

Evans nodded firmly, "Don't ever forget it. Come on in, breakfast should be about done."

After Crimson and Evans helped set the table once more they dug into the meal with a determined vigor as the other farm helps walked in one by one.

Evans announced his plans for Billy and Crimson to go slime clearing that day and it was met with an apparent lack of enthusiasm.

Billy being the one with the least amount of energy in response to the announcement, and the one with the highest [Class] level at the table.

After the meal finished, he and Crimson gathered together what they'd need: a makeshift spear, and a mallet.

As they walked toward the area Billy started breaking down the way things would go.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'll use the spear to knock them out of the trees, you smash them with the hammer. The ones in the area are really weak so there shouldn't be any issue even if it's just you killing them. We can swap off after a while, but I want you to get a feel for killing the slimes."

"Understood."

"Good."

Their relationship was a simple one: co-workers. They didn't fight, but they weren't friends. For his side, Crimson wasn't bothered by the relationship. It was simply how things worked out. For Billy...he probably didn't care or thought Crimson to be a mild nuisance, but he couldn't be sure.

The silence persisted as they made it to the troublesome area. Looking around, Crimson could see the blue slimes hanging onto low hanging branches in the trees. There weren't many of them, but there was a decent number. Maybe ten?

He glanced at Billy a bit confused, if they were so weak, what was the point in clearing them out while they were this few? Did they have a fast reproduction cycle? He didn't have enough information.

When he asked Billy the man took a moment to respond as they headed over to the nearest slime, "The thing about slimes is that they aren't that strong or smart, but they are fairly durable, and that durability increases significantly with time.

"As more time passes they split into two slimes and the two new slimes have a base strength stronger than the originals starting point, but weaker than the originals end point. Then, they both become more durable until they split as well, the split ones will be even stronger, and so on. It's a nasty loop that needs to be headed off early.

"If you keep the slime population down, then they'll all be weaker as a whole, but if you let them propagate you may get a slime monarch. If that happens we're all as doomed as a Shade in sunlight and we'll have to place a request with the Adventurer's Guild with the hopes that someone will kill it before it kills us."

Crimson nodded thoughtfully. He'd been partially right, it had something to do with the reproduction cycle, but not quite in the way that he'd thought.

Billy took the spear and started jabbing at the slime in the tree - careful to not stand under the thing. After a few jabs it dropped from the tree and Crimson smashed it with a hammer. He didn't feel any need to hesitate nor any desire too. As pieces of slime splattered around the hammer it started to slowly pull together.

"Just hit it again - it'll take ten or twenty minutes before it's properly reformed with how weak these ones are. The most powerful one we’ll see today will be Lv. 2.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Silently complying Crimson smashed down with the hammer once more and the slime spread out even further. He didn't even need to check to see if it had stopped moving - he'd felt the mana from the thing pass over his hand as it dispersed.

It was odd, he hadn't noticed it before then, but he could now feel a bit of mana radiating from the nearest slime. It was on the level of feeling heat from a match, but he'd suddenly become aware of it. Maybe coming into contact with slime mana had suddenly allowed him to sense it?

The next slime was just at the next tree over and wasn't too far, but from the next one over he couldn't feel anything. Maybe he was too far?

Billy headed over to the slime in question and repeated the jabbing act, but this slime was a bit smarter and, after the first jab, began to ooze towards the trunk of the tree in an effort to avoid the spear.

Billy let out an annoyed grunt and began to harass the thing more vigorously. After a half dozen jabs Crimson stopped feeling mana from the thing and it began to drip to the ground.

"Humph, I hate when they don't cooperate. The spear takes forever because of their resistance to piercing damage. Blunt damage is best for slimes."

Crimson nodded in agreement. Raften hadn't gone too in-depth, but he had mentioned the three types of physical damage: Blunt, Slash and Pierce. If a monster could be harmed physically it would almost always be weaker to one than the others. Case in point: Slimes, weak to blunt, resistant to slash, extremely resistant to piercing.

The only reason Billy had brought the spear was to force the slimes out of the trees and into the reach of the hammer - not to kill them with it.

Regardless, the hunt continued smoothly and the next three slimes cooperated nicely. Crimson felt the odd sensation of mana passing over his arm with every kill, but he didn't feel the mana radiating from them from any further away or any more clearly - too bad. It would probably take the [Blessing] for him to turn this into anything more useful.

He'd even tried an experiment where he put some of the mana from his own pool into the hammer before smashing the slimes, but it had done literally nothing. He'd need to learn more about how mana worked.

After they killed the fifth slime in the area Crimson and Billy swapped off and he had the opportunity to wield the mighty spear.

It was a shoddily made piece with a badly made spearhead tied into place at the end, but it was good enough for the slimes.

Crimson had worse luck than Billy and the first time he tried to bait a slime out of its tree it began to move up the branch to try and get away. Crimson forced himself to be patient and twenty fast jabs later the thing was finally dead, and his arms were going numb from the awkward angle.

Billy stood off to the side during the whole process and had been laughing at him. The laughter only worsened at the same situation repeated itself, all five times.

By the end, Crimson's arms were completely numb and he had worked up quite a sweat. Stabbing a slime took more effort than chopping wood - a lot more.

Crimson swapped with Billy back to the hammer as the man lead him further into the area on the hunt for more slimes.

----

The sun was placed fairly low in the sky as they started to head back. It was probably about five in the evening, and Crimson was absolutely exhausted, but he would push on - even if there was more hated slimes to kill.

Billy was scratching his head in confusion as they returned, "Boy, that was the strangest slime hunt I've ever been on. I only got to kill one this entire day, but after that you killed them all. If you had the spear, they'd stay in the tree. If you had the hammer, they'd drop easily." he looked at Crimson with concern, "Mind telling me what kind of curse you have?"

Crimson shook his head, "To my knowledge, none."

"Well, it was the strangest thing I've seen in a while, but it was funny watching you kill those slimes with the spear!"

Crimson elected not to respond. He hadn't minded the duty so much when he'd wielded the hammer, but killing them with the spear was an absolute pain. Billy had a higher strength stat than he did, so it was easier for him to kill the slimes, but when Crimson had tried handing him the spear in the middle of an encounter, the slime had immediately dropped the ground the second he laid his mitts on the hammer.

Even he thought the whole situation was weird. Maybe there really was some kind of curse or blessing he had that he didn't know about? Raften did say that he would receive five, but never said what they were…

As they walked back into the main clearing they spotted a group of men milling around looking like they were on the verge of panic.

Crimson felt his expression go deadpan once more. He'd seen this situation before.

Billy hurried over to the group and Crimson kept pace with the [Agility] bereft man with little issue.

He hurriedly began to question them with Crimson looking on, "What happened?"

Nelson was the one to respond, the kid looking the most lost of the group, "Aunt Symia went into labor."

Yup. Crimson had figured as much. It was nice to see that guys responded the same way to this situation in this world as the ones in his old world did. Not that he was any better off than the rest of the group - he had no idea what to do either. He just didn't look or feel like a lost lamb on the verge of running.

Billy questioned with some level of panic, "Is there anything we can do?"

"No. Evans and the midwife I fetched from Petea are with her."

"Oh." Billy slumped down as he officially joined the others in despondency and scratched the back of his head.

Crimson thought back on every show that he'd seen that had this same situation - a shocking number - and asked a simple question, "Has anyone started heating water?"

Every eye started burning holes into him in an instant. Nelson spoke for the group, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't pretend to know what to do in this situation, but usually someone asks for warm water at some point during these moments."

The members of the group -sans Crimson- started exchanging meaningful glances before Billy turned to him with a dead serious look.

"Go cut more firewood."

His arms would fall off this evening.

---

A low fire burned over a massive pot in the space afforded by the clearing. The pot was big enough for Crimson and Nelson to sit comfortably inside and was filled to the brim with gently steaming water.

They'd gone overboard. By "they" Crimson meant everyone besides himself because they refused to listen when he'd told them that they probably didn't need that much water. They'd also made him cut way more firewood than necessary for the task. The upside to that being he probably wouldn't need to do it again before he left. The blisters on his hands also promised a "fun" day of pulling weeds tomorrow.

Evans chose that excellent moment to stick his head out the door, "We're going to need some hot wa-" he abruptly cut himself off as he noticed the pot, "Yeah, that'll do. Bring me a bucket of that stuff."

He was clearly trying not to panic as he ducked back inside.

Crimson picked up the bucket he'd grabbed earlier, having seen the moment coming, and proffered it to Billy. The man grabbed the bucket, filled it, and rushed inside.

Crimson casually sat on the ground as the previously silent house was suddenly rent with a woman's loud groans. He was also impressed with Billy as the man ran out of the house like a man retreating from the most gruesome battlefield.

Maybe it was a little heartless for Crimson to be so calm, but he wasn't worried in a world where magic appeared to be so abundant. Already, he could feel the mana radiating off who ever was in Evans' bedroom or whatever they were doing. The second one was more likely in his opinion. He could probably feel the mana coming of the spell being cast.

He glanced at the panic squad as they flinched with every groan. The fact that the bedroom in question faced the front the house and the open window made it all the easier to hear what was going on. Well, made it easier to hear the sounds of pain.

Long after the sun set the group was still waiting outside. They were huddled around the fire they'd made for the water and were keeping the rest of it warm - just in case.

Well, Crimson was probably the only one trying to stay warm. The rest of the group just wanted to comfort each other.

The screams had finally stopped and the low sounds they could hear after they stopped were cut off by the window being closed, so nobody had any idea what was going on.

All of the group -sans Crimson- watched the front door with bated breath as it opened and Evans stepped out. The fear and nervousness were instantly replaced with joy and excitement as he smiled at the group and gave them a thumbs up. Even Crimson couldn't help but be happy - even if he hadn't been worried the entire time.

Evans approached the group and spoke, "Symia is tired and doesn't want to see anyone right now. We can all see her and my new little girl in the morning, but let's get you all some food before you go to bed."

Evans couldn't cook, and the group was unanimous in that fact. The most skilled among them could boil meat with salt, so the group just had milk, bread, and fruit for dinner before dispersing for bed.

It had been a long evening for everyone.

---

The next morning, Crimson was the first one up like usual. Following his morning routine he went out for his run and by the time he returned the rest of the household was starting the day.

By silent mutual agreement, none of the men would dare bother Symia or the midwife and, after a vicious and cutthroat time pulling straws, Crimson was selected to make breakfast. Well, "try" at the very least.

Fortunately, they had some eggs on hand and he didn't get too many pieces of the shell in the pan as he fried them. He was even able to make the mess without burning them. His first experience cooking was actually semi-edible. For that, he was more proud of himself than he let on.

"He's really happy with himself, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Is he glowing?"

"Nah, but if he was any more proud he might've."

Crimson decided to ignore the whispers from the peanut gallery. He also made a mental note to practice hiding his emotions. It would be a much needed skill, maybe he could even get a [Skill] from it?

...

...

That little thought just made him depressed. A year was way too long.

----

Symia's new child was a beautiful baby girl with the same green hair color as her mother. She also had that weird baby thing where she was absolutely adorable and very ugly at the same time. Crimson had never understood why such a contradiction like that existed, but it did.

The mother in question was still tired, but she was also very content as she held her daughter in her arms.

Evans had helped them both down the stairs as the group was crunching their way through the eggs and had his wife sit in a chair by the fire place.

While the group wanted to crowd around the baby -sans Crimson, who was waiting for an invitation- the bull-like midwife intervened. He watched as she gave them a whispered tongue lashing more vicious than any Symia had given, and laden with a lot more curses. Apparently, comparing people to stupid or ugly monsters was a good way to insult them.

Once the group was sufficiently cowed they'd been invited up one by one to see the child, with Crimson being offered first place by the mid-wife since he'd been the most well behaved, but he declined in favor of last place. Better to let the people with a real connection see her first.

That was how they reached the current point of him staring down the child. She still hadn't opened her eyes yet, but he guessed that they'd match her father's. Well, it was only a guess, and considering the fact that he was leaving the day after next he might never know. Depended on how long she took to open her eyes.

After greeting the currently nameless child and wishing Symia well Crimson got to work weeding the field to the east of the clearing. There was a path that led through the forest for a short distance before letting out where the field was. Since the plants were all just starting to sprout it was important to keep the weeds away so that they could grow properly. That's where Crimson came in.

Most of the crops weren't interesting in the slightest: barley, wheat, tomatoes, pumpkins, corn, and some other stuff, but the crop that Crimson was working on was VERY interesting. He still didn't know much about it, but it contained mana - something he'd found out the second he touched it.

The information he knew could be summarized in two points: it was called Pheonix Leaf, and it was used in Alchemy.

They grew it here because the ambient mana in the soil and air was well suited for it and it sold for a decent amount. Based off the name, Crimson guessed that it was used in some kind of healing potion. Regardless, it was cool to find mana in a plant.

He'd even tried experimenting a little by having his mana enter the plant, but the one time he'd done that he ended up killing the plant. Fortunately, it was one among thousands, but he'd still apologized to Evans who'd waved the issue off and told him to avoid doing it again. He'd taken special care since then to not harm the plants in any way.

He'd also tried sensing ambient mana, but no matter how much he tried he couldn't find it in the air - despite the fact that it was definitely there. He couldn't find any in the soil either - much to his dismay.

A few hours under the sun later he had a quick lunch with the other men, then got to his special task: creating an inventory.

It hadn't been easy, but he'd made good headway on it. It also made for good practice writing in his new language. Creatively called: The Common Tongue.

Fortunately, his own handwriting was still kept even in the new alphabet. He'd spent a lot of time back in his other world improving his handwriting. It had kinda rankled him when he was young that people had assumed his handwriting would be atrocious after a glance at his hands, so he'd put in a lot of time and effort to prove them wrong. He also didn't want to use his body's condition as an excuse for being bad at the things he could physically do.

That effort continued to pay off as Evans had muttered, "You've had no complaints? Of course, no one would dare!"

Evans had then began to jokingly question which master scribe Crimson had run away from before moving on.

Good. Recognition for his efforts was nice.

Well, he continued the work and almost finished cataloguing everything in the freezing cold storage room. Well, it probably wasn't that cold, but he'd lived in desert regions his whole life. It was certainly cold to him.

Crimson exited just in time for dinner and joined the others. Symia had, despite the literal crowd of people trying to stop her, cooked dinner for the group while the midwife had looked after the baby.

While he could and would never know how draining child birth could be, he didn't think that he'd be up and about as quick as she was if he was in her position.

After the meal he'd let his head hit the pillow as the others decided to stay up late to try and figure out a name for the child.

Waking up first thing in the morning he'd found them red-eyed and still at it with two clear factions having formed and appearing ready for war.

Since there were eight people and one baby there was an even split of four versus four with Symia holding her child. The second Crimson walked into the room he suddenly became the tie-breaking vote. Great.

Probably the best idea ever to have the guy with the name "Crimson" act as the tie-breaking vote for a name. Brilliant.

Well, there was no escape for him, and he still wanted to do his morning run, so he asked his options. The first, championed by Symia, Nelson and their plus two, was Emerald. The second, championed by Evans, the midwife, Billy and their plus one, was Rose.

Crimson's first instinct on hearing that was just to combine the two and call her Emerald Rose, but fortunately everyone shot down that idea unanimously. Even he knew it was bad.

Somehow, he ended up with the child in his arms as the war preparations between the two groups continued, having given up on him as the tiebreaker. As he looked down he saw that she'd finally opened her eyes, and that they were a lovely purple color. They reminded him of, "Lilac." he spoke aloud unconsciously.

Well, he could change it a little. Calling a child Lilac would be too much. Muttering to himself he listed a few ways to change it, "Lia, Lillia, Li-"

"That's it!"

Surprised, Crimson looked up to see eight pairs of eyes and eight fingers all pointed at him. Without him noticing, they'd ended the war and had been listening to him mutter to himself. How much of that had he said out loud?

The baby was scooped out of his arms by her mother and Symia started to coo at her. "I like that name, we can call her Lillia, with Lia being her nickname."

Crimson felt it was a bad idea for her to take his rambling seriously, a really bad idea. Hopefully Evans would put a stop to it... Uh, no. He had even started cooing to the baby girl her new name in support of his wife.

With the attention fully on "Lillia" and not on him Crimson took that moment to head outside to do his morning run. He'd best be out of the house once they'd thought twice and realized it was a bad name. Why did they even take it seriously?

Crimson spent his last day working as everyone went to bed after having stayed up all night arguing. He finished the inventory, arrogantly laughed at the already chopped wood, and was able to get another row of Phoenix Leaf weeded. His week of the same tasks were over!

When he came in for dinner he'd discovered that they still hadn't thought twice about the name he'd thrown out, and that it appeared to be sticking. He felt like someone was cheerfully ramming a spear made of guilt into his chest as Evans and Symia thanked him for the "wonderful" name.

He'd ended up giving them the only response he could in the situation, "You're welcome."

While he didn't think so, their sincerity made him wonder if maybe he'd actually suggested a good name. Well, it wasn't his problem anymore, they could realize how bad it was later. Evans would be taking him to Petea tomorrow. From there, he'd catch a ride or walk to Falst. It was the capitol city of the country he was currently in: Alda.

He headed off to bed with the hope that he'd somehow suggested a good name and thought on his future.