CHAPTER 136

When Tom reached the party area, he was not surprised to discover different coloured mists floating around the space that the otter had set up. Carpets were laid down to cover the gas in the ground and cushions were positioned to hide the spot where an overly curious boulder stretched for the sky. Their bard had taken the opportunity to play his harp, adding to the festive feel.

Then his attention was caught by the edge of the designated space. There was an obvious line in the air that split the gathering area from the wilds. The coloured mist would roll up to and squish against it like there was a solid glass preventing it from going further and then bounce back into the main zone.

People had no difficulty crossing the line, and he even saw Jin and Gita together, jumping outside to avoid some mist from tagging them. They were grinning happily at the little game they had invented to make use of those selective walls.

It was another casual display of magic that had been turned to promote mundane convenience. It was almost certainly an artefact and, in the future, Tom promised himself that it would be him with the impressive toys, but such dreams were for the future. Right now, he had a valuable source of information to exploit.

Internally, Tom reviewed what he wanted to find out from this strange creature. There was so much stuff that the native had to know, but if he had a limited number of inquiries… Then which was the most important? The strength of the monsters that surrounded them? The mindset of nearby kingdoms? Would any be friendly to a competitor race? Were they in danger of being actively hunted? How strong they need to get in order to resist the coming pressure?

They were all questions that needed answering, but before he could move, he could see that the otter was already deep in conversation with Sonya.

He shrugged and walked through a blue mist and instantly felt energy bubbling through him. It was very pleasant.

“And you need to combine that with pink.” Everlyn insisted before she grabbed him and started dragging him across the enclosed area.

“Why?”

“Because everyone knows pink is the best colour. Duck.” Everlyn with a grin of limbo danced under a chest height cloud of purple.

She was cute; he thought to himself and followed, dropping to his hands and knees to crawl under the gas that she wanted him to avoid.

“Pink?”

“Best colour.” Everlyn insisted.

Tom didn’t believe her response for a moment but let her guide him over to where pink and a green were mixing.

“The green is probably okay.” Everlyn told him, after a slight hesitation, and then plunged personally into the mist. Tom followed. The green seemed to coat his throat and settle there while the pink targeted his skin and got into him that way.

She was smiling and laughing and genuinely enjoying the chance to relax. He felt the same as her. The gases had energised him and made him feel content and happy. Between that and the energy and the music, he started swaying to the music with her.

“Wait, was pink just to make me more likely to dance?”

“Yes.” She clapped her hands. “But not here… On the dance floor.” She pounced to link her arms around him and dragged him towards the side of the area where Keikain was putting the finishing touches on a smooth stone surface. Mus must have adjusted his talisman because most colours of gases got reflected off an invisible barrier and did not enter the dance floor.

A second musician had joined the bard and had laid out a set of drums. Tom recognised him as a spearman who was moonlighting as a drummer. When he started playing, he was impressed by the other earth mage’s skill level. He must have been in a band back on earth and probably a successful one.

“Too fast.” Everlyn complained about the music, but was happy enough to dance next to him. Others were joining them. Even some people who had refused to dance the last time they had held a party were on their feet this time. Tom guessed that there were numerous combinations of gases that made dancing inevitable when ingested. The blue energy mist he had first stepped into and a strong music beat and a positive emotion of any sort would suffice to get anyone on the dance floor, as long as they did not suffer from crippling shyness.

He was having fun.

A drink was passed to him.

“Wine.” The girl told him.

Tom took a drink and almost spat it out as the bubbles went up his nose. “What?”

Everlyn, laughing stopped him from throwing the cup away. “Give it a moment. It’s the green smoke you consumed with the pink. Makes everything fizzy.”

He had another sip and now that he was ready for it, the overall effect was pleasant. “Amazing,” he told her, though there were so many bubbles that it slowed his drinking down considerably.

He danced, ate exotic food and chased down the good, coloured gases while avoiding the bad ones. At one point, a drunk Keikain ended up in the lime green colour and spent twenty minutes bawling out his eyes. It was eerie; he said nothing, but had obviously, like all of them, suffered something horrific in the past. Most of them were so buzzed by the gases they instinctively avoided him. Only Clare took the time out to sit next to the earth mage and comfort him.

Tom, like everyone else avoided that colour gas even more religiously than previously.

About two hours later, he spotted an opportunity to sit down with a briefly unoccupied Mus. An area free of gases surrounded the person.

“I…” Tom started.

“Wait Tom. This space actively drains the effects of the gases out of you. But before we start, check the system room to see if you are still affected by it.”

Tom nodded shut his eyes and stepped into his system room. “Any status effects on me.”

The wall shifted to display the words.

0.09 blood alcohol concentration.

Above the legal limit to drive, but not high enough that his decision making would be materially impacted.

“The gases are gone.” He told Mus brusquely. “Let’s chat. There’s a lot of stuff I’m interested in.”

There was a dull red cushion positioned across from Mus that Tom settled on. The internal material adjusted to his weight, and in short order he was comfortable.

“So, you’re no longer drugged. That’s the great thing about gases. They have a big impact, but leave your system quickly.”

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“What? Like they’re a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.”

Mus blinked at that. “You learn the colours and that stops being an issue. But then everyone avoids the bad ones and what’s life without up and downs. If too many people are avoiding the negative ones, you change the rules to speed their motion up, so even high ranks can’t always dodge.”

Tom laughed at that. “No one’s safe.”

“Not at a party! So, hu-man, do you have questions?”

“You can call me Tom.”

“I know. I just like to say hu-man.”

“First, is there anyone you haven’t spoken to?”

The otter’s whiskers twitched in its familiar way to show its amusement. “You humans are a fascinating species.”

“We have our flaws, that’s for sure.”

Mus waved the comment away. “Most species do. I don’t suppose you want to volunteer to come with me?”

Tom laughed at that. “You already know that answer.”

“Well, you don’t know till you ask.”

“That’s bullshit. You knew exactly how I would respond.”

“Of course, but it was still polite to inquire.”

Tom chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. Do you mind answering some questions?”

“Definitely. You hu-mans are satisfactory.”

Tom shrugged at the comment not knowing why the otter had expressed it or whether the term was layered with extra meaning.

“You’ve flown over the area and know what’s out there. How strong do we need to be to not get hunted?”

“This.” Mus’s paws shot in the air, expressing an eureka style moment. “Is not business. Do you want to describe distant lagoons at a party? I think we should partake in some additional gases, that is, if you are going to insist on serious talk.”

“Sure.” Tom agreed if that was the cost of information, he was willing to pay it. But he hoped he didn’t get manic and energy at the same time because if that happened the chat would be over almost immediately. There was no way he could sit still though that combination.

Tom’s fears were misplaced because instead of opening up the shield Mus produced a pile of the trapped gases and started sorting through them. He crunched some of them in his hands and multicoloured plumes radiated outwards. A couple went down Tom’s throat before he could do anything, and he felt like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Not cool.” Tom ground as he struggled to keep his mind focused.

“Cool? You wanted cool? I have a frozen gas, but I haven’t used it because I thought it would not be compatible with human physiology.”

“Not! What! I meant!”

Mus’s whiskers twitched, and then. He collapsed down, rubbing them furiously.

Tom found he didn’t care, but despite his dissociative state he was himself. He still wanted answers to his questions. “I need answers.”

“Don’t we all?”

Tom ignored the philosophy and enjoyed existing. It was pleasant enough to sit here and trust that Mus would answer eventually when he had finished his little game.

“If you came with me, volunteered we could do this every night. You can even bring your mate.”

Internally, he could acknowledge the seductive nature of that offer. After so many years of struggle and depravation, to have the rest of his life secured in comfort… It was an amazing vision and to be able to achieve that amongst sapients that had a fun sense of humour. An existence where every day he could earn ranking points without continually being on the edge of life and death. It would be incredible, a reward for his forty years of sacrifice.

Tom shook his head and let it go. The idea had a gloss to it, a shine, an aura it was alluring almost beyond imagination. But no. He had never been in this for… He hadn’t suffered through those years of loneliness to build a better life for himself. He thought about his younger brother and sister and what might happen to them if they lost the competition. No, he had bigger gains to pursue. “There are humans around who suit your purposes more than me. I’m too independent and have a class.”

“Two,” Mus answered without missing a beat. “But we could level you quicker. You already have Spells at levels that would allow you to teach them. For what you already bring to the table and your fighting ability… You’re better than all the others.”

“I have other plans.”

“Maybe we can help you with that as part of a deal.”

“No. You’ll get your volunteers. Joline’s already putting together the best list.”

“Yes, her. I didn’t like her.”

“She can be intense.”

Everlyn slumped down beside him. “Has he told you the secrets of the existence?”

“No. He’s been holding out.”

“If you come with me, I’ll share. I’ll take both of you before any others.”

Simultaneously, they both shook their heads.

“That’s a shame.”

“Do you have anything relevant to share with us?” Everlyn asked.

“I guess I can be flattered into sharing my wisdom.”

An impish smile lit Everlyn’s face. “Oh, wisest of adventurers. What advice can you spare these fellow weak adventurers?”

“Hmm… First, there’s never been a competition in my lifetime, so my knowledge only comes from recorded tales. Second, my fragile companions I’ll implore that you be careful about others out there. Even if you are unwilling what can be extracted from your competitor connections is a prize to get the attention of kings and warlords. The more levels you have under your belt the less valuable you become but the risk to you doesn’t end there. The moment you stop being a potentially useful resource to be snapped up by the greedy you morph into a threat.”

Mus stopped to break another gas. The entire dose this time went into the otter. “I’ve told you that natives earn substantially less experience, but it is the peripheral stuff that makes you dangerous. A competition individual is considered to be twice as strong as a similar levelled native. That is because of traits, skills and spells that competitor species can accumulate. And that relationship only holds to level a hundred. Beyond that, the contrast gets even worse. A level two hundred might be four times as powerful as the equivalent native.”

Mus paused to let them absorb that. There was no surprise in the words. They sort of already knew.

Everlyn frowned. “The threat never goes away?”

“For you guys, unfortunately not. You’re either a valuable resource to be exploited or a potential risk to be eliminated. Competitor races, even ones classed as satisfactory have a terrible reputation.”

“What does that term mean?” Everlyn asked. “Satisfactory.”

“You are neither a terror nor a pacifist. It is a broad category that all neutrals are assigned to until at least thirty local years into the competition. At that point.”

“It takes you thirty years to classify the nature of a species.”

“There are many cases of satisfactory competitors who over halfway through the competition morphed into terrors in their desperate attempt to obtain sufficient ranking points to protect their future.”

“Really.”

“Yes. My race included. It is common. Sometimes good species need to do unsatisfactory things to survive.”

“Shit.” Everlyn whispered.

“Yes, I hope it doesn’t happen to you hu-mans.”

“And the point when Evie and I stand on our own two feet? When can we stop jumping at shadows?”

Mus appeared to be amused at the expression because it looked at its own appendages and then at theirs. “It’s a hard question to answer and it’ll change as your status as a competitor becomes known. But for native-on-native combat, one versus one most people will avoid fighting any opponent stronger than about two-thirds of their rank. At that point, you’re mostly guaranteed to win and people who pick fights closer to their own class level don’t last for long. You can have a dozen fights go your way, but things only need to go wrong once. That means practically you personally have to achieve a strength equal to three quarters of any nearby adventures you’re likely to run into. Do that and you’ll be mostly safe from them challenging because slaving is far harder than just fighting.”

Mus put the pile of crystals in front of him into storage. “However, if you’re close to a kingdom, then that calculation goes off. If I have a team of fifty, all of whom are half your rank I’m backing my squad to possess the power to abduct or kill you.” Mus made eye contact with both of them. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just telling you to be wary. If you’re approaching a kingdom, you need your rank to be more than twice the average. In this area, that means rank forty will get you immunity in the wild. That will protect you from lone explorers but to approach the kingdom’s borders. Most of them will require you to be above sixty and the more elite kingdoms you’ll need eighty and for some over a hundred. What I’m saying is that there is no safety till you’re playing at the kingdom trading level, but if you get that high, then others at your level will take notice and then you’re back to watching your back.”

“You make it sound so bleak.” Everlyn said.

“That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it to your mate at this party.”

“Better to know than not.” Tom said still floating in his calm state. “You saying something has not made it more dangerous for us.”

“Not always.” Mus admitted. “But often knowledge improves safety, but Tom I think you might have absorbed too much of that melancholy gas.” A crystal appeared in Mus’s hand, and he crashed it and the gas swept into Tom’s nostrils and down into his lungs. Tom felt his emotions centre once more.

“Hu-man Tom and hu-man Everlyn this is not how I wanted to spend my night. We can talk more in the morning before I leave.” In his paws Mus held two more gases, which he broke. A combination of pink and blue gas appeared and made a beeline for the two of them. Tom felt that familiar euphoria and energy fill him.

Everlyn had got the same dose.

“Not fair.” Tom shouted at an otter that was wiggling hysterically in the wading pool as Everlyn dragged him to the dance floor. He danced with her all their many concerns and fears forgotten. Mus had called this a party he was just glad that incredibly powerful native had indulged them as long as he had. Power, after all, wrote its own laws.